EDUCATION   DEPT. 


A  SYSTEM  OF  RHETORIC. 


SYSTEM 


RHETOEIO 


CT  W.  BAKDEEN 


NEW   YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:•  CHICAGO 

AMERICAN     BOOK    COMPANY 

fWM  TVS  nmm  o» 
A.    S.     BARNES    A    CX7. 


EDUCATION  DEPT 


ComiOBT  BT 

A.  S.  BARNES  tt  Ca 
1864 


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Jo 


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PREFACE 


In  presenting  to  the  public  a  new  text- book  on  Rhetoric, 
the  author  asks  attention  to  these  features  as  characteristic : 

(1.)  It  is  kept  in  tlie  foreground  throughout,  that  the 
fundamental  law  of  rhetoric  is  adaptation  ;  that  the  form 
of  discourse,  like  the  fashion  of  clothing,  has  no  intrinsic 
beauty,  but  is  or  is  not  artistic  as  it  does  or  does  not  pro- 
duce the  effect  designed,  at  the  time  and  under  the  circum- 
stances. 

(2.)  That  the  student  may  look  on  rhetoric  as  an  art, 
not  like  trigonometry  which  he  may  use,  but  like  arithme- 
tic which  he  must  use,  its  most  important  laws  are  devel- 
oped in  the  practical  treatment  of  Conversation  and 
Letter-Writing.  The  boy  who  does  not  care  to  be  taught 
speech-making  and  verse-writing  may  be  glad  of  help  to 
feel  at  ease  among  strangers,  and  to  write  a  business 
letter. 

To  this  is  added  instruction  in  Narration  and  Descrip- 
tion. These  are  forms  of  composition  in  which  the  essen- 
tial element  is  not  literary  taste  but  personal  experience. 
Any  man  may  be  called  upon  to  tell  or  to  write  for  the 
newspaper  what  he  has  done  or  seen,  and  every  man 
should  be  able  to  do  it  well. 

Because  Conversation,  Letter-Writing,  Narration,  and 

ii7iS240573 


VI  PREFACE. 

Description  are  of  immediate  interest  to  every  one,  they 
are  the  essential  portion  of  the  subject,  and  for  scholars 
who  do  not  care  for  more,  this  part  of  the  book,  including 
a  full  treatment  of  Punctuation,  is  published  in  a  sepa- 
rate volume,  called  "  The  Elements  of  Practical  Rhetoric." 

(3.)  With  the  Essay  begins  what  is  properly  literary 
work.  One  must  converse,  write  letters,  narrate,  describe, 
— and  the  only  question  is  whether  one  shall  do  it  well  or 
ill.  But  one  need  not  write  for  the  magazines  or  deliver 
orations  or  publish  poems,  unless  one  has  a  taste  that  way. 
Hence  this  part  of  the  subject  has  been  kept  distinct,  and 
for  those  who  so  prefer  it  is  published  in  a  separate  volume, 
called  "  A  System  of  Advanced  Khetoric." 

Especial  pains  has  been  taken  in  the  treatment  of  Prep- 
aration and  Invention.  The  principles  laid  down  are 
familiar  to  practised  writers,  but  are  usually  reached  by 
experience  instead  of  by  instruction.  It  is  believed  that 
these  chapters  will  do  much  for  young  authors  to  make 
the  way  easy  and  definite. 

(4.)  The  mechanism  of  composition,  instead  of  being 
scattered  throughout  the  book,  is  gathered  into  Part  I., 
serving  as  an  introduction.  The  treatment  differs  from 
that  usually  found  in  so-called  "  Composition  Books,"  in 
that  it  treats  the  sentence  from  a  point  of  view  purely 
rhetorical.  Hence  arrangement  of  words,  phrases,  and 
clauses  is  made  prominent,  the  principles  under  this  head 
being  distinguished  from  the  rest  under  the  title  of 
"Observations."  These  will  be  found  to  occupy  more 
than  half  the  space  given,  and  their  importance  cannot  be 
too  strongly  insisted  upon. 

For  those  who  desire,  Part  I.  is  published  by  itself,  in  a 
volume  called  "  Outlines  of  Sentence-Making." 

(5.)  Throughout  the  book  there  is  a  profusion  of  illus- 


PREFACE.  VU 

trations,  believed  in  this  8iibject>to  be  particularly  esfien- 
tialV^^^necdotes  have  been  chosen  wherever  practicable, 
because  a  blunder  that  is  ludicrous  is  more  easily  remem- 
bered and  avoided.  The  bearing  of  the  anecdote  on  the 
principle  illustrated  will  not  always  be  seen  at  a  glance  by 
most  pupils ;  but  the  point  will  be  found  when  searched 
for,  and  the  profit  will  be  greater  for  the  search.  Through- 
out the  author  has  aimed  to  be  suggestive  rather  tlian  ex- 
haustive ;  to  quicken  thought  as  well  as  to  convey  infor- 
mation. 

(6.)  The  multitude  of  quotations  from  leading  authors 
on  rhetoric  serves  a  double  purpose,  the  language  of  most 
of  them  being  referred  to  throughout  the  book  in  illustra- 
tion of  the  qualities  of  style.  It  is  believed  that  the  fre- 
quency of  credit  given  will  be  in  most  cases  sufficient 
acknowledgment ;  but  in  a  few  instances  the  memorandum 
of  the  source  of  a  quotation  has  been  lost.  Two  books,  so 
far  the  best  in  their  respective  departments  that  intelli- 
gent treatment  must  follow  them  closely,  deserve  especial 
mention  :  these  are,  "  The  Art  of  Extempore  Speech,"  by 
M.  Bautain  ;  and  "  The  Art  of  Reading,"  by  M.  Legouv^. 

Upon  a  subject  like  this,  always  a  favorite  theme  with 
the  best  writers,  it  would  be  preposterous  to  hope  for 
originality.  What  is  true  is  as  old  as  Aristotle,  and  what 
should  be  announced  as  new  in  principle  might  safely  be 
condenmed  as  untrue.  Yet  because  rhetoric  is  a  means  to 
an  end,  the  application  of  its  principles  must  vary  with 
the  age  and  the  people  where  it  is  to  be  exercised.  Tliis 
is  an  age  of  newspapers,  and  we  are  a  busy  people — witli 
little  leisure  to  contemplate  beauty  of  diction,  but  accus- 
tomed to  glance  down  tlie  column  to  see  what  the  writer  is 
aiming  at  and  whether  he  hits  it. 

As  a  practical  art,  modern  rhetoric  must  accept  and 


VUl  PREFACE. 

yield  to  this  tendency,  and  its  canons  of  criticism  must  be 
applied  to  the  morning  journals.  It  is  nowhere  stated  in 
this  book  at  what  point  in  the  Iliad  the  first  simile  occurs; 
but  there  are  many  quotations  from  newspapers  just  now 
most  popular,  with  some  effort  to  distinguish  power  from 
bombast,  humor  from  vulgarity  and  imbecility.  This  criti- 
cism the  student  is  expected  to  carry  further  and  apply  to 
his  daily  reading — which  is  more  likely  to  be  of  the  Kew 
York  Herald  and  the  Burlington  Hawkeye^  than  of 
Ilesiod  and  Catullus. 

In  short,  this  book  is  written  from  the  standpoint  of  one 
whose  daily  work  it  has  been  for  some  years  to  read  and 
select  and  publish  manuscripts,  who  knows  from  experi- 
ence the  actual  difficulties  and  faults  of  young  writers,  and 
who  would  like  to  help  them.  Hence  the  treatn)ent 
throughout  is  practical  rather  than  scholastic,  adding 
much  that  is  unusual  in  text-books  of  the  kind,  and  omit- 
ting some  things  that  since  the  time  of  Campbell  and  Blair 
have  been  considered  conventional.  The  author  hopes 
that  trial  will  prove  these  changes  to  have  been  made  with 
good  reason,  and  the  book  to  have  contributed  something 
toward  general  culture  in  good  speech  and  good  writing. 

NOYBMBBB  2,   1883. 


COJSITENTS. 


PART  I.    Sentence  Making. 

"THROUGH  PACILiTY  TO  PEUCITY." 

Section  First.      Simple  Sentences xvii. 

Section  Second.  Complete  Sentences xcv. 

Section  Third.     Compound  Sentences cxiii. 

PART  II.    Conversation. 

MAIN  object,  to  PROMOTE  SOCIABILITY. 

Chapter  I,     Good  Breeding 8 

II.     Table  Talk 13 

III.  Gossip 82 

IV.  Commendation  and  Reproof 45 

V.     Discussion 62 

VI.     Story-Telling 81 

VII.     As  to  Being  Funny 92 

VIII.     Egotism V.\S 

IX.     Articalation  and  Pronunciation l')! 

PART  III.    Letter-Writing. 

MAIN  OBJECT,  TO  CONVEY  INFORMATION. 

Chapter  X.    Rinds  of  Letters  171 

XI.     General  Rules  for  Letter-Writing 190 

XII.     Narration 208 

XIII.  Description 248 

XIV.  Punctuation — Arbitrary  Rales 256 

XV.     Rules  Dependent  on  Judgment 276 


r  CONTENTS. 

PART  IV.    The  Essay. 

MAIN  OBJECT,  TO  INTEREST. 

Chapter  XVI.    Preparation 805 

XVII.    Invention 331 

XVIII.     Style 342 

XIX.     Parity a53 

XX.     Propriety 370 

XXI.     Precision 899 

XXIl.     Perspicuity 434 

XXIII.  Power...! 448 

XXIV.  Perfection ' 465 

XXV.     Preparation  for  the  Press 491 

PART  V.    The  Oration. 

MAIN  OBJECT,  TO  PERSUADE. 

Chapter  XXVI.     Eloquence .')'>:. 

XXVII.     Argument 519 

XXVIII.     Extemporaneous  Speaking 537 

XXIX.     The  Voice 547 

XXX.     Delivery 562 

PART  VI.    Poetry. 

MAIN  OBJECT,  CONTEMPLATION. 

Chapter  XXXI.     What  Constitutes  Poetry 587 

XXXII.     Figurative  Language 601 

XXXIII.     Rhythm  and  Rhyme 627 

GENERAL  INDEX 645 

GENERAL  GLOSSARY 663 


ELEMENTS  OF  PRACTICAL  RHETORIC. 


PART  L 
Sentence-Making.— Through  Facility  to  Felicity. 

PART  IL 
Conversation.  —Main  Purpose,  to  Promote  Sociability. 

PART  III. 
Letter-Writing.— Main  Purpose,  to  Convey  Information. 

PART   IV. 
The  Essay.— Main  Purpose,  to  Interest. 

PART  V. 
Oratory.— Main  Purpose,  to  Persuade. 

PART  VI. 
Poetry. — Main  Purpose,  Contemplation. 


PART  I. 

SENTEN  CE  -MAKING 


PART  L 

SEKTEKCE 'MAKING 


SECTION  FIKST. 

SIMPLE  SENTENCES. 


Composition  is  the  art  of  arranging  our  thoughts, 
and  expressing  them  in  appropriate  language. 

All  thoughts  are  expressed  by  means  of  Sentences. 

The  formation  of  Sentences  is  therefore  the  first  step  in 
Conip<>siti<»n. 

The  Simple  Sentence  is  the  basis  of  composition, 
and  the  foundation  of  all  other  sentences.  It  is  so  called 
because  it  is  the  expression  of  a  single  thought,  and  con- 
tains only  one  Subject  and  one  Predicate. 

All  other  sentences  are  merely  combinations  of  Simple 
Sentences.  They  must  therefore  contain  two  or  more 
Subjects,  and  two  or  more  Predicates. 

The  Subject  in  every  Simple  Sentence  is  that  of 
which  something  is  affirmed;  the  Predicate  is  that 
which  is  affirmed  of  the  Subject 


xviil                                   THE  SUBJECT. 

Examjples, 

8UBJB0T. 

PRKDICATB. 

Birda 

fly. 

flomebinla 

fly  BwifUy. 

Some  Urda  of  prey 

fly  very  awlftly. 

victim. 

fly  Tery  swiftly  with  It  to  the 

[Part  I. 


In  the  first  example  we  have  the  simplest  form  of  the  Subject 
and  Predicate  ;  in  the  other  three,  we  have  expanded  forms. 

The  Object. — When  the  Predicate  contains  a  transi- 
tive verb,  it  can  be  subdivided  into  Predicate  and  Object. 
Thus: 


SUBJECT. 

PREDICATE. 

OBJECT. 

The  BCholar 
The  diligent  scholar 
The  diligent  scholar  beincr 
always  prepared. 

repeats 

repeato  correctly 
repeats  correctly  to  his 
master 

THE  SUBJECT. 

the  lesK>ns. 
the  lessons  of  the  day. 
the  different  lessons  of 
day. 

The  Subject  of  a  Simple  Sentence  may  be  eitlier 
(1)  a  Koun,  (2)  a  Pronoun,  (3)  an  Adjective  used  as  a 
noun,  (4)  an  Infinitive,  or  (5)  a  Participle.     Thus : 

(1)  Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  time. — Young.  (2)  He  taught 
ns  how  to  live  and  how  to  die.— Tickell  (of  Addison).  (3)  The 
vpright  shall  prosper.  (4)  To  suppress  the  truth  may  be  a  duty  to 
othei-s  ;  never  to  utter  a  falsehood  is  a  duty  to  ourselves. — Hare. 
(5)  Doing  his  duty  is  the  delight  of  a  good  man. 

Exercise  I. — Complete  the  following  sentences  by  sup- 
plying appropriate  subjects. 

Note  I. — Every  affirming  sentence  begins  with  a  Capital^  and  ends 
with  a  Period.     See  page  257. 

Example. — The  shepherd  tends  his  flock.  — tends  his  flock. 
— praises  the  scholar,  —overcomes  difliculties.  — enlightens  the 
earth.  — promotes  health.  — import  cargoes.  — succeeds  sum- 
mer. — cultivates  the  groimd.  — produces  fniit.  — moves  the 
train.     — gather  moss.    — lash  the  shore.     — sounds  the  charge. 


Sbc  I.]  PLACE  OF  THE  SUBJECT.  XIX 

— cleaves  the  air.  — plouglis  the  main.  — build  nests.  — make 
long  voyages.  — guards  the  house.  — yields  a  costly  fur.  — 
buries  its  eggs  in  the  sand.  — walks  rapidly  over  the  hot  desert. 
— often  baffles  the  hounds.  — is  adapted  to  their  kind  of  life. 
— are  termed  oviparous.  ^  — forms  a  diphthong.  — are  called  poly- 
syllables. — is  the  ear.  — directs  all  animals  in  the  choice  of 
food.  — lies  between  the  tropics.  — is  situated  between  the 
torrid  and  the  north  frigid  zone.  — affords  a  striking  iUustration 
of  the  doom  of  insatiable  ambition.  — cannot  vie  with  the  beau- 
ties of  nature.     — will  prove  a  source  of  happiness, 

Obs.  I . — The  subject  usually  precedes  the  predicate; 
but  may  follow  it  when  the  sentence  is  introduced  by  it^ 
this,  there,  now,  etc.,  as  in  the  following  sentence:  It  is 
easy  to  go. 

It  is  necessary  that  there  should  be  a  general  understanding  as 
to  tlie  relative  position  of  the  subject  and  the  object,  since  both  have 
in  English  the  same  form.  In  the  sentence,  John  struck  James,  it 
would  be  impossible  to  tell  which  struck  and  which  received  the 
blow  except  on  the  general  principle  of  arrangement  that  the  sub- 
ject prece<lcs  and  the  object  follows  the  verb.  Hence  in  poetry, 
the  fact  that  this  principle  is  often  disregarded  may  occasion  am- 
biguity.   Thus : 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  sUlIncAS  holds.— Grat. 
The  dako  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose, 
And  him  oaUive,  and  die  a  Yident  death.— Sbaufkrb. 

See  also  pages  293,  294. 

Infinitives  commonly  give  up  their  fonnal  place  as 
subject  or  as  object,  mostly  in  favor  of  a  provisional  pro- 
noun— it,  this,  that. 

The  anticipation  of  the  infinitive  by  means  of  it  is  exceedingly 
frequent  *•  It  was  not  easy  to  wound  his  feelings  ;  "  **  My  patron 
had  it  not  in  his  power  to  introduce  me  personally ; "  it  is  the 
formal  subject  in  the  one  case,  and  the  formal  object  in  the  other, 
while  the  infinitives  to  toound  and  to  introduce,  which  are  the  real 
subject  and  object,  are  formally  said  to  be  in  apposition  to  the 


XX  THE  SUBJECT.  (Part  I. 

prononn.  In  careful  writing,  the  form  in  to  has  a  monopoly  of  this 
usage.— Bain. 

Thus,  we  should  not  say,  **  It  was  not  easy  wounding  his  feel- 
ings ;  "  "He  had  it  not  in  his  power  introducing  me  personally." 

Obs.  2. — The  natural  order  of  words  in  a  sentence 
may  be  varied  in  accordance  with  the  first  law  of  Force, 
that  evrvphatui  words  must  stand  in j>o8'Uioiis  empliatic  he- 
cause  unusual ;  as  when  the  subject  is  removed  from  the 
beginning  of  a  sentence,  or  the  predicate  is  put  there. 
Thus: 

Much  l>  this  inculcated  bj  Cicero  and  Qaintilian.— Bi^ib. 

FUuked  hU  their  sabres  bare.— Tuhtsoh. 
And  »hriekt  the  wild  sea-mew. — Btrom. 
But  whoso  went  his  rounds,  when  flew  bat,  flitted  midge.— BBOwmia. 

When  the  subject  is  a  pronoun,  the  object  may  in  like  manner 
be  put  before  the  verb.     Thus  : 

Some  he  imprisoned,  others  he  put  to  death. 

Military  courage,  the  boast  of  the  sottish  German,  of  the  MtoIous  and  prating  French- 
man, of  the  romantic  and  arrogant  Spaniard,  he  neither  possesses  nor  values. 

But  where  both  subject  and  object  are  substantives,  such  inver- 
sion would  produce  ambiguity  (see  Obs.  1,  page  xix).  To  indicate 
emphasis,  therefore,  the  form  of  the  sentence  must  be  changed. 
In  the  sentence,  "  John  struck  James,"  we  can  in  speaking  give 
special  stress  to  either  of  the  three  words  that  we  vrish  especially 
to  emphasize.  In  writing  we  can  itahcize  either  of  the  three,  as, 
*•  John  struck  James,"  where  it  is  assumed  that  James  is  struck,  and 
the  question  is  as  to  who  did  it ;  or,  "  John  struck  James,"  where 
it  is  assumed  that  John  did  something  to  James,  and  the  question 
is  as  to  what  he  did  to  him ;  or,  **  Jolm  struck  James,'*  where  it  is 
assumed  that  John  struck  somebody,  and  the  question  is  as  to 
whom  he  struck.  But  both  vocal  emphasis  and  written  italics  are 
so  frequently  misused  that  it  is  better  so  to  construct  the  sentence 
that  the  arrangement  shall  make  the  meaning  clear.  Thus  the 
three  meanings  of  the  sentence  given  are  indicated  clearly  as  fol- 
lows : 

It  was  John  that  strucV  James ;  What  John  did  to  James  was  to  strike  him  ;  It  was 
James  that  was  struck  by  John. 


Sec.  I.] 


PLACE  OF  THE  SUBJECT. 


XXI 


The  emphasis  of  the  predicate  might  be  shown  by  this  arrange- 
ment, ''Struck  was  James  by  John."  This  inversion  would  be 
suitable  in  poetry,  and  is  sometimes  unobjectionable  in  prose  of 
an  elevated  character.  But  with  ideas  and  words  so  common- 
place as  these  such  an  arrangement  would  be  bombastic. 

Obs.  3.  Inversion. — We  can  often  put  the  verb 
before  the  subject  by  beginning  with  an  adverb,  or  other- 
wise changing  tlie  form  of  the  sentence.  This  structure 
is  called  Inversion.     Thus : 


There  goes  a  man,  down  the 

road. 
Scarcely     had    Tom     spoken, 

when,  etc. 
Then  came  the  crisis. 
Such  was  his  fate. 


Now  is  your  time. 

No  sooner  had  we  started,  than. 

How  are  the  mighty  fallen. 
Swiftly  flew  the  arrow. 


Especially  in  the  Subjunctive  Mood,  is  it  common  to 
use  such  forma  as,  Were  I  an  officer,  instead  of,  If  I  were 
an  officer. 

Some  writers  practise  this  degree  of  inversion,  which  our  lan- 
gnage  bears,  much  more  than  others  ;  Lord  Shaftesbury,  for  in- 
stance, much  more  than  Mr.  Addison  ;  and  to  this  sort  of  arrange- 
ment is  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  that  appearance  of  strength, 
dignity,  and  measured  harmony  which  Lord  Shaftesbury's  style 
poBsesses.  This  will  appear  from  the  following  sentences  of  his 
"Inquiry  into  Virtue;"  where  all  the  words  are  placed,  not 
strictly  in  the  natural  order,  but  with  that  artificial  construction 
which  may  give  the  period  most  emphasis  and  grace.  He  is 
speaking  of  the  misery  of  vice : 

Tbiii,  M  to  the  oomplete  immonU  utate,  in  whnt,  of  their  own  acoctnl,  men  readily  re- 
mark. Where  there  U  thin  alMuluto  degeneracy,  this  total  apo^staxy  from  all  candor, 
trust,  or  equity,  there  are  few  who  do  not  aee  and  acknowledge  the  ntittery  which  is  con- 
sequent. Beldom  is  the  case  misconHtrue<1,  when  at  worst.  The  misfortune  is  that  we 
look  not  on  this  depravity,  nor  consider  how  it  standH,  in  leea  degree.  As  if,  to  be  ab- 
solutely immocml,  were,  indeed,  the  greateei  misery ;  but.  to  be  eo  in  a  little  degree, 
should  ho  no  misery  or  barm  at  all.  Wbloh,  to  allow,  is  just  as  reasonable  as  to  own 
that  'tis  the  greatest  111  of  a  body  to  be  in  the  ntmoet  manner  maimed  or  distorteti :  but 


XXll  THE  SUBJECT.  [Part  I. 

that,  to  lone  the  nw  only  of  one  limb,  or  to  be  Impaired  in  aome  fdiiffle  organ  or  member, 
Ih  no  Ul  worth;  of  the  least  notice,    (ii.  82.) 

Here  is  no  violence  done  to  the  language,  though  there  are  many 
inrersions.  All  is  stately,  and  arranged  with  art ;  which  is  the 
greatest  characteristic  of  this  author's  style. 

We  need  only  open  any  page  of  Mr.  Addison  to  see  quite  a 
different  order  in  the  construction  of  sentences. 

Our  idght  ia  the  most  perfect,  and  most  delightful,  of  all  our  fcnee*.  It  Alls  the  mind 
with  the  largest  variety  of  ideas,  converses  with  it»  objects  at  the  p:reate«*t  ili^tAiice,  and 
continues  the  longest  in  Hction.  without  being  tired,  or  satiated  with  its  |iru|>er  enjoy- 
ments. The  sense  ul  feeling  can,  indeed,  give  us  a  notion  «>f  exU  nxiun.  Khsiie,  nnd  all 
other  ideas  that  enter  at  the  eye.  except  colors;  but,  at  the  M.me  time,  iti»  wry  much 
■trained  and  conflDed  in  iu  opentiona,  etc — SpectaHtr^  No.  411. 

In  this  strain  he  always  proceeds,  following  the  most  natural 
and  obvious  order  of  the  language  :  and  if,  by  this  means,  he  has 
less  |>omp  and  majesty  tlian  Shaftesbury,  he  has,  in  return,  more 
nature,  more  ease  and  simplicity  ;  which  are  beauties  of  a  higher 
order. — Blair. 

It  is  not  upon  Rnch  changes  as  these  that  I  propose  to  remark.  bi:t  upon  certain  rather 
newfangled  forms  of  expression  which  seem  to  me  affected  and  not  felicitous.  The  fin>t 
of  these  which  I  shall  bring  up  is  a  change  in  the  position  of  the  verbs  &«,  have,  and  do 
in  sentences  in  which  the  latter  clause  makes  a  comparison  with  something  set  foi  th  in 
the  former.     For  example : 

Loni  George  also  was  displeased— more  thoroughly  displeased  than  had  been,  his  wife. 
— Tboljx)PE  :  I'open)oy,  Chapter  4. 

Bankruptcy  has  tended,  as  might  have  been  expected,  to  produce  bankruptcy ;  and 
for  all  purpunes  of  |>anic  as  well  as  business  New  York  and  London  are  as  close  an  were 
London  and  Manchest^-  a  few  years  ago.— /taW  Mall  Budget,  June  8,  1878. 

It  is  needless  to  give  more  instances :  the  writing  of  the  day  is  full  of  them,  and  Mr. 
Trollopc,  the  chief,  and  one  of  the  earliest,  if  not  the  earliest,  of  offenders,  is  but  the  fore- 
most man  of  a  multitude.  This  placing  of  the  verb  directly  after  the  conjunction  or 
preposition  is  a  new  trick  in  style.  It  is  sheer  affectJition,  and,  if  I  do  not  err,  is  quite  un- 
English,  In  such  sentences  as  those  given  above,  che  simple  English  construction  is, 
"  more  thoroughly  displeased  than  his  wife  had  been,"'  '*  are  as  close  ax  London  and  Man- 
chester were  a  few  years  ago."  The  placing  of  the  su'-ject  of  the  verb  .ifter  it,  except  by 
poetic  license,  or  in  very  elevated  prose  (and  even  there  with  great  diwretion ),  is  not 
English,  it  is  not  clear,  it  is  not  natural.  No  good  si)eake  ■  of  English  would  talk  iu  this 
style,  even  in  the  soberest  conversation.  If  I  remember  rightly,  Macaulajr  never  uses 
this  construction,  nor  Cardinal  Newman,  a  very  correct  writer,  whose  taste  is  unexcep- 
tionable. The  fashion  came  in  not  long  ago  through  the  desire  to  avoid  a  verb  of  one 
syllable  at  the  end  of  a  sentence.  For  example :  "  Mary  was  not  so  beautiful  as  her  sis- 
ter was."  To  end  the  sentence  with  a  dissyllable  instead  of  a  monosyllable  (a  very  weak 
affectation),  the  verb  was  transjwsed,  and  we  had,  "An  teas  her  sister."  Whoever  wishes 
to  write  clear,  manly,  and  simple  English  will  avoid  this  foolish  fashion,  which,  howeyer, 


ftRc.  I.]  INVERSION.  XXI 11 

has  become  so  prevalent  that  it  appears  with  a  most  ridiculous  incongruity  even  in  such 
writing  as  that  of  the  following  passage  from  a  reiK)rt  of  a  dramatic  performance  by 
*•  Count  Joannes  ;  " 

"  In  the  audience  last  night  were  many  Yale  students,  who  were,  of  course,  boister- 
ous an.1  jolly,  and  led  the  attacks,  but  justice  requires  the  remark  that  they  did  not  say 
a«  many  fimny  things  aa  did  two  or  three  newsboys  in  the  gallery."— R.  G.  Whitb. 

Exercise  II. — In  the  following  sentences,  change  the 
form  so  as  to  put  the  Predicate  before  the  Subject. 

Note  U. — An  inverted  clause  is  iisually  set  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
sentence  hy  a  Comma.     See  page  293. 

Examples.— The  express  is  going  ;  Thei-e  goes  the  express.  The 
tug  of  war  is  coming  ;  I^ow  comes  the  tug  of  war.  What  he  said 
is  as  follows  ;   This  is  what  he  said. 

I  never  before  saw  such  a  show.  If  I  had  known  yon  were 
sick  I  slionkl  liave  come  np.  I  am  veiy  glad  to  see  you  again. 
He  jumi^ed  up.  The  thermometer  dropped  down.  The  chair  fell 
over.  She  was,  he  said,  the  best  of  mothers.  The  issue,  my  law- 
yer writes,  is  doubtful.  He  was  not  once  defeated.  Satan  came 
also,  last  of  all.     They  didn't  care  for  him.     He  shall  go. 

After  inversion,  the  usual  order  of  subject  and  predicate 
seems  awkward ;  as,  No  contemptible  orator  he  was. — 
Blaib.    y 

Exercise  III. — Reconstruct  the  following  sentences  so 
as  to  show  (1)  that  the  emphasis  is  on  the  subject ;  (2) 
that  it  is  on  the  predicate ;  and  (3)  that  it  is  on  the  ob- 
ject. 

Example. — (2)  Found  was  the  water  by  the  crow.  Water  was 
found  by  the  crow  would  usually  answer  for  either  (1)  or  (8),  but 
if  more  positive  emphasis  is  recpiired,  (1)  It  was  the  crow  that 
found  the  water ;  (3)  It  was  water  that  the  crow  found. 

The  crow  found  the  water. 

The  boy  threw  i)ebbles. 

Mary  broke  the  i)itcher. 

The  ostrich  inhabits  the  desert. 

The  farmer  raises  com. 


XX17  THE  OBJECT.  [Part  I. 

Obs.  4. — When  the  subject  is  long  or  complicated  it 
is  well  to  summarize  it  before  the  verb. 

For  examples,  see  page  283. 

THE  OBJECT. 

The  Object  of  a  simple  sentence  may  be :  (1)  a 
Noun,  (2)  a  Pronoun,  (3)  an  Adjective  used  as  a  noun,  (4) 
an  Infinitive,  or  (5)  a  Participle. 

Examples. — (1)  Wlio  steals  my  purse,  steals /rosA.  (2)  We  loved 
her,  but  she  died.  (3)  His  views  and  affections  take  in  only  the 
visible.  (4)  Learn  to  labor  and  to  wait.  (5)  He  prefers  walking  to 
riding. 

Exercise  IV. — Supply  objects  to  the  following  transi- 
tive verbs. 

Example. — The  sun  gilds  the  hill-top.  The  sun  gilds—.  The 
diligent  boy  deserves — .  Education  improves — .  Fools  de- 
spise— .  Bain  refreshes — .  The  gardener  prunes — ,  Tfie  boy 
repeats  his — .  The  king  le\ied — .  The  physician  prescribes — . 
Spring  revives — .  The  hunter  climbed — .  The  weary  laborer 
reached — .  Good  men  comfort — .  Good  kings  love  their — . 
The  bridge  spans — .     Ducks  frequent — . 

Participles  and  Verbal  Nouns  differ  in  that  a 
Participle  retains  the  notion  of  time  and  agrees  with  the 
noun,  while  the  Verbal  Noun  expresses  only  the  abstract 
idea  of  the  action,  and  is  the  object  of  the  noun  in  the 
possessive. 

Obs.  5. — Verbal  Xouns  should  be  avoided  wliere 
verbs  can  be  used  instead,  because  unless  immediately 
preceded  by  prepositions  they  may  often  be  mistaken  for 
participles. 

Exercise  V. — Change  the  following  sentences  by  con- 
verting the  verbal  nouns  into  phrases. 


Sec.  I.]        MODIFIERS  OP   SUBJECT  AND   OBJECT.  XXV 

Example. — When  Horace  trembled  for  the  life  of  Virgil,  it  was 
an  interesting  moment,  etc. 

Horace  [Horace's]  trembling  for  the  life  of  Virgil  is  an  interest- 
ing moment  [episode]  in  the  histoiy  of  poetry  and  [of]  friendship. 
— Gibbon. 

I  assnre  you  therefore  seriously,  and  upon  my  honor,  that  the 
carrying  [of]  this  point  seems  essential  to  the  success  of  this  meas- 
ure.*— W.  Pitt. 

In  hot  climates,  the  letting  into  a  country  of  a  mass  [of]  stag- 
nant water,  etc. — Bentham. 

The  ascertaining  [of]  a  principle  in  metaphysical  science  is 
sometimes  the  clearing  up  of  a  doctrine  of  revelation. — W.  J.  Fox. 

Mr.  Mill  will  see  that  the  point  of  dubiety  spoken  of  was  one 
which  suggests  not  the  hanging  of  the  culprit,  but  the  sparing 
[of]  him. — P.  P.  Alexander. 

In  approaching  the  jiractical  problem,  there  are  two  parts  that 
will  need  to  be  kept  distinct — the  first  starting  of  the  new  system, 
and  the  keeping  [of]  it  going  after  it  has  been  started. — Cairns.  ' 

MODIFIERS  OF  THE  SUBJECT  AND  OF  THE  OBJECT. 

Kinds  of  Modifiers. — The  Subject  or  the  Object  may 
be  expanded  by  Modifiers  of  the  following  kinds:  (1) 
Adjectives;  (2)  Possessives;  (3)  Appositive8;'(4)  Parti- 
ciples ;  (5)  Infinitives ;  (6)  Preposition  Phrases ;  (7)  Ad- 
verbial Phrases ;  (8)  Clanses. 

(I)  Adjectives  may  be  roughly  classed  as  (a)  De- 
scriptive, or  as  simply  (b)  Demonstrative. 

a.  Descriptive  Adjectives  limit  the  noun  by  nam- 
ing some  quality  belonging  to  it. 

Exercise  VI. — Supply  appropriate  adjectives  in  the  fol- 
lowing sentences. 

Example.— A  disobedient  child  is  a  grief  to  his  parents.  A — 
child  is  a  grief  to  his  parents.  A — zephyr  played  on  the  surface 
of  the  lake.  The  elephant  is  a  very — animal.  Gold  is  the  — of  all 
metalH.     A  red  morning  sky  betokens  a — day.     Hiudostau  has  a 


xxvi  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

—climate.  Money  is  a— source  of  stiife.  Some  ground  requires 
— weeding.  The — heavens  are  a  sublime  spectacle.  A — bower  is 
pleasant  in  Hummer.  The  sheep  supplies  us  with  an  endless  va- 
riety of— mateiial.  Wheat  was  at  one  time  a — article  of  food  in 
this  country.  The  rivers  afford  an — supply  of  fish.  A — friend  is 
the  cordial  of  life.  Milk  is  an — article  of  diet.  Hannibal  was 
a — enemy  to  the  Romans.  Belgium  is  a  very — country.  The 
Dutch  are  a  very — people.  Alfred  was  a — monarch.  The  wasp 
has  a — waist. 

Obs.  6.— Fitting  Adjectives. — The  descriptive 
adjectives  employed  indicate  more  surely  than  any  other 
feature  the  quality  of  the  author's  style. 

Don't  say 

It  tastes  nice^  when  tou  mban  It  tastes  delicious. 

She  walks  nicely ^  She  walks  gracefully. 

He  did  it  nicely ^  He  did  it  skilfully. 

She  looks  nice,  She  looks  charming. 

The  water  is  wicc.  The  water  is  refreshing. 

He  is  a  nice  man,  He  is  2^  pleasant  man. 

A  nice  odor,  A  savory  odor. 

A  nice  landscape,  A  lovely  landsca|>e. 

A  nice  smile,  A  winning  smile. 

A  nice  mansion,  A  luxurious;  mansion. 

A  nice  cottage,  A  snug  cottage. 

A  nice  companion,  An  agi-eeable  companion, 

etc.,  etc. 
That  stupid  vulgarism  by  which  we  use  the  word  nice  to  de- 
note almost  every  mode  of  approbation,  for  almost  every  variety  of 
quality,  and  from  sheer  poverty  of  thought  or  fear  of  saying  any- 
thing definite,  wrap  up  everything  indiscriminately  in  this  charac- 
terless domino — speaking  in  the  same  breath  of  a  7iice  cheese-cake, 
a  nice  tragedy,  a  nice  oyster,  a  nice  child,  a  nice  man,  a  iiice  tree,  a 
nice  sermon,  a  nice  day,  and  a  nice  count  17. — Archdeacon  Habe. 

When  I  first  looked  upon  the  Falls  of  the  Clyde,  I  was  unable 
to  find  a  word  to  express  my  feelings.  At  last  a  man,  a  stranger 
to  me,  who  arrived  about  the  same  time,  said,  *'How  majestic  ! " 
(It  was  the  precise  term,   and  I  turned  around,  and  was  saying 


Sec.  L]  CHOICE  OP  ADJECTIVES.  xxvii 

"  Thank  yon,  sir  !  that  is  the  exact  word  for  it,"  when  he  added, 
eodein  Jiatu) — •*  Yes,  how  w^ry  pretty  !  " — Colebidge. 

V 

Exercise  VII. — Substitute  other  adjectives  in  the  fol- 
lowing sentences. 

Example. — For  indigent^  poor,  needy ;  insufferable,  intolerable, 
unendurable;  jeering,  sneering,  scoffing;  community,  fraternity, 
society  ;  flung,  threw,  cast ;  individual,  character,  pei*8on ;  kicked, 
drove,  spumed ;  r<ige,  fury,  passion ;  mean,  slavish,  servile  ;  wn- 
rulif,  ungoveniable,  iuti-actable ;  tcealthy,  rich,'  opulent ;  longing, 
panting,  desiring ;  forgiven,  excused,  pardoned ;  conspicuous,  dis- 
tinguished, illustrious. 

At  Oxford,  Johnson  lived  during  about  three  years.  He  was 
indigent  even  to  raggedness  ;  and  his  look  provoked  a  mirth  and 
a  compassion  whicli  were  equally  insufferable  to  his  haughty 
temijer.  He  was  expelled  from  the  quadrangle  of  Christ  Church 
by  the  jeering  looks  which  the  membei*s  of  that  aristocratical  com- 
munity flung  at  the  holes  in  his  shoes.  Some  charitable  individual 
placed  a  new  pair  at  his  door,  but  he  kicked  them  away  in  a  rage. 
Distress  made  him,  not  mean,  but  reckless  and  unruly.  No  wealthy 
gentleman  commoner,  longing  for  one-and-twenty,  could  have  used 
the  academical  dignities  with  more  gross  disdain.  Much  was  for- 
given, however,  to  a  stripling  so  loftily  conspicuous  by  abilities 
and  attainments. 

In  that  i)ortion  of  the  western  section  of  this  empire  which  is 
ordinarily  designated  Somei-setsliire,  there  lately  resided,  and  per- 
haps lives  still,  a  gentleman  whose  appellation  was  Allworthy,  and 
who  might  well  be  termed  the  favorite  of  both  nature  and  fortune, 
because  both  of  these  seem  to  have  striven  which  should  bless  and 
endow  him  most.  In  this  contest,  nature  may  api)ear  to  have  come 
off  triumphant,  as  she  bestowed  on  him  many  endowments,  while 
fortune  had  only  one  gift  in  her  i)ower ;  but  in  lavishing  this,  she 
was  so  very  lavish,  that  others  i^rhaps  may  consider  this  one  en- 
dowment to  have  been  more  than  equal  to  all  the  divei*sified  bless- 
ings which  he  enjoyed  from  nature.  From  the  anterior  of  these 
he  received  an  agi'ceable  apix^arance,  a  sound  constitution,  a  solid 
intellect,  and  a  good  heart ;  by  the  latter,  he  was  ap])ointed  to  the 
heirship  of  one  of  the  largest  p<^s8e^ons  in  the  country. 


XXVlll  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

Forms  In  Comparison. — As  a  general  rule,  the 
comparative  and  superlativ.e  degrees  are  formed  by  ap- 
pending er  and  est  to  adjectives  of  one  or  two  syDables, 
and  by  prefixing  more  and  most  to  adjectives  of  more  than 
two  syllables.  The  rule  is  not,  however,  arbitrary,  and 
some  writers  allow  themselves  great  liberty  in  the  matter. 

We  find  "honorablest"  in  Bacon;    *-* virtuousest "  in  Milton; 

"  beautifuller,"    "  beautifullest,"  in  Carlyle;  ♦*  unrivalledest "   in 

Ho  wells. 

Dean  Alford  sj^eaka  of  "  a  more  neat  way  of  expressing." 
Groans  and  tears,  looks  and  gestures,  a  flush  or  a  paleness,  are 

often  the  most  clear  reporters  of  tlie  heart,  and  speak  more  directly 

to  the  hearts  of  others. — Comhill  Magazine. 

Double  comparatives  are  of  course  inadmissible ;  as, 
The  last  are  indeed  more  preferable. — Addison. 

Obs.  7.— The  comparative  degree  must  be  used 
only  of  different  objects,  or  of  the  same  object  at  different 
stages  of  its  existence.  Therefore  when  a  comparative  is 
followed  by  than,  the  thing  compared  must  be  always  ex- 
cluded from  the  class  of  things  with  which  it  is  compared, 
by  other  or  some  such  word.     Thus  : 

The  letters  published  after  C.  Lamb's  death  and  that  of  his  sis- 
ter, by  Mr.  Talfourd,  make  up  a  volume  of  more  interest  to  me 
than  any  [othei']  book  of  human  composition. — C.  R.  Leslie. 

jrrobably  Lord  Halifax  is  better  versed  in  the  real  history  of  the 
period  .  .  .  than  any  [othei']  living  man  or  (*'Bear"  Ellis  ex- 
cepted) than  any  [other]  man  who  ever  lived. — Political  Portraits. 

**Your  Englishman  is  just  as  serious  in  his  spoi-ts  as  in  any 
[other]  act  of  his  life."  "Much  more  so,"  observed  Mr.  P. — C. 
Delmer. 

Cmnpare:  "  Scott's  works  were  the  daily  food,  not  only  of  his 
countrymen,  but  of  all  educated  Europe."  Bain  corrects  this  to 
**  but  of  all  the  rest  of  educated  Europe,"  or  to  "  the  daily  food  not 
of  his  countrymen  alone : "  otherwise  the  implication  is  that  Scott's 
countrymen  were  not  educated. 


bEC.  I.]  DEGREES  OF  COMPARISON.  XX ix 

The  objects  compared  must  be  in  the  same  category. 
We  cannot  say,  There  is  no  nobler  calling  than  a  teacher. 

Compare  this  sign  in  Essex,  England : 

NO  HOBSES  SHOD  ON  8UMDAT, 

Except  Sickness  and  Death. 

-r 
Obs.  8. — The  superlative  degree,  on  the  other 
hand,  must  be  used  only  of  objects  in  the  same  class. 

Thus,  St.  Peter's  is  greater  than  any  other  church  (not  than  any 
church),  but,  St.  Peter's  is  the  greatest  of  all  churches  (not,  of  all 
other  churches). 

Exercise  VIII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Etample. — It  was  the  happiest  time  he  had  ever  spent. 

It  was  the  happiest  time  he  had  ever  yet  spent. 

This  work  was,  however,  destined  to  cause  Lady  Morgan  more 
trouble  and  annoyance  than  she  met  with  in  the  whole  course  of 
her  literary  life. — Memoirs. 

Adam, 
The  oomelicst  man  of  men  since  bom 
UU  sons.    The  fairest  of  her  daughters  Eve.— MiLTOir. 

The  very  class  who,  of  all  other  citizens,  were  least  to  be  trusted. 
.  .  .  .  Who  they  pronounce  to  be  of  all  others  the  least  falli- 
ble in  their  judgment It  was  the  most  amiable,  although 

the  least  dignified,  of  all  the  party  squabbles  by  which  it  had  been 
preceded. — James  WiUiiAMS. 

Mr.  Stanley  was  the  only  one  of  his  predecessors  who  slaugh 
tered  the  natives  of  the  regions  he  passed  through. — The  (London) 
Examiner. 

Errors  in  education  should  be  less  indulged  than  any. — Locke. 

I  know  none  so  happy  in  his  metaphors  as  Addison. — Blair. 

No  writer  in  our  language  is  so  purely  English  as  he  is,  or  bor- 
rows so  little  assistance  from  words  of  foreign  derivation. — Blaib. 

This  noble  nation  hath  of  all  others  admitted  fewer  corrup- 
tions.— Swift. 

The  vice  of  covetousness  is  what  enters  deepest  into  the  soul  of 
any  other. — U  uardian. 


XXX  ADJECTlVEa  [Part  I. 

There  is  no  talent  so  useful  toward  rising  in  the  world  or  which 
puts  men  more  out  of  the  reach  of  fortune,  than  that  quality 
generally  possessed  by  the  dullest  of  people,  and  that  is,  in  com- 
mon language,  called  discretion. — Swipt. 

Obs.  9.— The  superlative  of  two  seems  on  its 
face  an  absurd  expression,  and  the  young  writer  is  advised 
in  comparing  two  objects  to  use  the  comparative  degree, 
preceded  by  the  definite  article. 

Thus,  He  is  the  taller  of  the  two ;  not.  He  is  tallest  of  the  two. 

Dual  forms,  pertaining  to  two  objects  and  not  to  more 
than  two,  are  often  misused  in  composition,  but  should  be 
respected  by  those  who  would  write  irreproachably.  Camp- 
bell says : 

"  Most  languages  distinguish  dual  from  plural  in  numeral  [de- 
tnonstratire]  adjectives.     Thus  in  English, 

When  the  discourse  is  of  two  ;  of  several: 

collectively,  both,  all ; 

distribuiively,  each,  every; 

indiscriminately,  either,  any; 

exclusively,  neither,  none ; 

relatively  and  interrogatively,  whether,  which. 

"This  distinction  in  French  hath  been  overlooked  altogether, 
and  in  English  is  beginning  at  least  in  some  instances  to  be  con- 
founded." 

That  Campbell  himself  confounds  it  in  the  case  of  the 
comparative  is  shown  in  the  following  statement : 

We  say  rightly  either  *'This  is  the  weaker  of  the  two,"  or  "  the 
weakest  of  the  ivfo:'— Rhetoric,  i.  383. 

How  Many  Alternatives? — We  are  grateful  to  onr  esteemed  contemporary,  the 
Herald,  for  calling  our  attention  to  the  phrase  "  three  alternatives,"  which,  it  seems,  has 
got  into  our  columns,  and  for  pronouncing  it  bad  English.  We  like  nothing  better  than 
to  be  corrected  when  we  are  in  the  wrong.  Such  correction  1 ;  the  sure  means  of  im- 
provement, and  improvement,  progress,  is  one  of  the  great  ends  of  this  mortal  life.  Can- 
dor al>«o  compels  us  to  say  that  the  Herald  is  correct  in  it»  criticism,  and  that  the  dic- 
tionaries generally  take  that  view  of  the  question  which  it  propounds.    Strictly  speaking. 


Sec.  I.]  ADVERBS  FOR   ADJECTIVES.  XXXI 

an  alternative  relates  to  the  opportunity  of  choosing  between  two  thingn ;  and  yet  if  a 
writer  8i>eaks  of  three  or  four  alternatives,  his  English  is  not  absolutely  vicious,  because 
in  that  case  he  imagines  the  choice  to  Ix?  made  between  one  of  the  things  he  refers  to  on 
one  side  and  all  the  others  on  the  other.  For  instance,  when  the  order  of  the  Osmanll 
was  offered  to  Mr.  Bennett  in  Constantinople,  in  recognition  of  his  distingtiished  talents 
as  a  journalist,  he  had  several  alternatives,  namely,  first,  to  accept  the  compliment  or  to 
decline  it ;  secondly,  to  accept  it  unconditionally,  or  to  accept  it  on  condition  that  he 
should  be  made  an  Osmanli  of  the  first  class,  instead  of  the  second  or  third  class,  which 
was  offered  him ;  thirdly,  to  accept  it  on  condition  that  the  act  should  be  approvj-d  by 
the  Administration  at  Washington  and  by  Congress;  fourthly,  to  accept  it,  whether  with 
conditions  or  without,  and  to  keep  the  fact  private  ;  or  fifthly,  to  accept  it  and  make  the 
fact  notorious.  Does  not  this  make  five  alternatives  open  to  Mr.  Bennett  in  regard  to 
this  single  decoration  of  Tiirkish  knighthood  t  Could  he  not  choose  either  one  of  them 
and  reject  all  the  rest,  putting  the  one  he  chose  on  one  side  and  all  the  others  together  on 
the  other,  thus  complying  with  the  strict  sense  of  the  phrase  by  making  his  choice  be- 
tween two  things  only  ? 

\Vc  take  pleasure  in  the  discussion  of  these  nice  questions  of  language  with  a  learned 
and  critical  journal  like  the  Herald ;  and  we  trust  that  whenever  it  sees  us  falling  into  a 
blander,  it  will  administer  the  necessary  correction. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

Exercise  IX. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — The  mother  seemed  the  younger  of  the  two. 

The  mother  seemed  the  youngest  of  the  two. — Thackeray  (in 
Esmond). 

If  we  consider  the  works  of  nature  and  art,  as  they  are  qualified 
to  entertain  the  imagination,  we  shall  find  the  last  very  defective 
in  comparison  of  the  former. — Addison. 

The  question  may  be  said  to  be  entirely  open  to  the  peculiar 
views  of  the  presiding  judge  and  the  witnesses  in  each  case,  yieither 
of  whom  have  a  definite  standard  of  action  in  law  or  in  medicine  to 
guide  them  in  their  investigation. — North  American  Reriew. 

That  he  [Shakspei-e]  wrote  the  plays  which  bear  his  name  we 
know ;  but  except  by  inference  we  do  not  know  the  years  in  which 
they  were  \iTitten,  or  even  that  in  which  either  of  them. was  fii-st 
l>erfonned. — Richard  Grant  White. 

Peasant,  yeoman,  artisan,  tradesman,  and  gentleman  could  then 
be  distinguished  from  each  other  almost  as  far  as  they  could  be 
seen.  Except  in  cases  of  unusual  audacity,  neither  presumed  to 
wear  the  dress  of  his  betters. — Id.     . 

Obs.  to.  Adverbs  for  Adjectives. — By  ellipsis 
adverbs  sometimes  do  duty  as  adjectives.  Though  not 
without  authority,  this  custom  should  be  avoided. 


xxxii  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

There  are  a  few  disagreeable  matters  of  style,  such  as  the  re- 
peated use  of  the  adverb  almost  as  an  adjective,  **  an  almost  child ; " 
and  the  same  misuse  of  other  adverbs,  as  in — •♦  to  think  on  the 
once  themes  is  to  be  by  my  once  self ;  "  and  *'  joy  at  this  house's 
now  despair."    Such  things  as  these  are  too  dreadful  to  criticise. 

— H.   B.  FiBMAN. 

We  seem  to  remember  remarking  that  David  Davis  wouldn't 
look  badly  in  the  chair. — Springfield  Republican.  **  Look  badly  " 
looks  bad.  Overhaul  your  grammar. — Lowell  Courier.  We  copy 
the  above  in  the  hope  that  it  may  meet  the  eye  of  the  schoolmaster. 
Among  people  who  lay  claim  to  culture  we  know  of  no  more  preva- 
lent solecism  than  this  "  look  badly,"  '* feel  nicely"  atrocity.  One 
might  as  weU  say  **feel  coldly,"  or  "feel  hotly." — Boston  Tran- 
script. 

Exercise  X. — Change  the  following  sentences  so  as  to 
escape  the  use  of  adverbs  as  adjectives. 

Example. — In  the  situation  he  was  then  in. 

In  his  then  situation. — Johnson. 

The  seldom  use  of  it.  — Trench.  (Here  infrequent  may  be  sub- 
stituted for  seldom.) 

Our  Lord's  own  use  so  frequently  of  the  term. — Trench. 

For  in  my  then  circumstances,  the  note  was  of  much  more  con- 
sequence to  me. — Thackeray. 

After  the  then  country  fashion. — Kingslet. 

My  Lord  Duke's  entertainments  were  both  seldom  and  shabby. 
— Thackeray. 

Adjectives  for  Adverbs. — The  use  of  adjectives 
for  adverbs  is  inexcusable.     Thus : 

If  with  your  inferiors  speak  no  coarser  than  usual ;  if  with  your 
superiors  no  finer. — AiiFORD. 

He  that  lays  open  his  vanity  in  public  acts  is  no  less  absurd  than 
he  that  lavs  open  his  bosom  to  an  enemy  whose  drawn  sword  is 
pointed  against  it ;  for  every  man  hath  a  dagger  in  his  hand  ready 
to  stab  the  vanity  of  another  whenever  he  perceives  it. — Fielding. 

It  should  be  added  that  a  speaker's  being  well  heard  does  not 
depend  near  so  much  on  the  loudness  of  the  sounds,  as  on  their 


Sec.  I  ]  PLACE  OF  THE  ADJECTIVES.  XXXUl 

distinctness ;  and  especially  on  the  clear  pronunciation  of  the  con- 
sonants. — Whately. 

Obs.  I  I . — The  English  adjective  usually  precedes  the 

noun.    Tlie  advantages  of  this  arrangement  are  thus  stated  : 
si  ~ 

Ib  it  better  to  place  the  adjective  before  the  substantive,  or  the  substantive  before  the 
adjective  ?  Ought  we  to  say  with  the  French — un  c/ieval  noir ;  or  to  say  as  we  do — a  black 
horse?  Probably  most  persons  of  culture  would  decide  that  one  order  is  as  good  as  the 
other.  Alive  to  the  bias  produced  by  habit,  they  would  ascribe  to  that  the  preference 
thoy  feel  for  our  own  form  of  expression.  They  would  expect  those  educated  in  the  use 
nf  the  opposite  form  to  have  an  equal  preference  for  that.  And  thus  they  would  conclude 
that  niither  of  these  instinctive  judgments  is  of  any  worth.  There  is,  however,  a  philo- 
aoph  cal  ground  for  deciding  in  favor  of  the  English  custom.  If  "  a  horse  black  "  be  the 
arrangement,  immediately  on  the  utterance  of  the  word  '•  horse,"  there  arises,  or  tends  to 
ari<e,  in  the  mind,  a  picture  answering  to  that  word ;  and  as  there  has  been  nothing  to 
in;lic;»tf  what  kind  of  horse,  any  image  of  a  horse  suggests  itself.  Very  likely,  however, 
the  image  will  be  that  of  a  brown  horse ;  brown  horses  being  the  most  familiar.  The  re- 
sult is  that  when  the  word  "  black  "  is  added,  a  check  is  given  to  the  process  of  thought. 
Either  the  picture  of  a  brown  horse  already  present  to  the  imagination  has  to  be  sup- 
pressed, and  the  picture  of  a  black  one  summoned  in  its  place;  or  else,  if  the  picture  of  a 
brown  horse  be  yet  unformed,  the  tendency  to  form  it  has  to  be  stopped.  Whichever  is 
the  case,  a  certain  amount  of  hindcrance  results.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  "  a  black 
horse  "  be  the  expression  used,  no  such  mistake  can  be  made.  The  word  "  black,"  indi- 
cating an  abstract  quality,  arouses  no  definite  idea.  It  simply  prepares  the  mind  for  con- 
ceiving some  object  of  that  color ;  and  the  attention  is  kept  suspended  until  that  object  is 
known.  If,  then,  by  the  precedence  of  the  atiject.ive,  the  idea  is  conveyed  without  liability 
to  error,  whereas  the  precedence  of  the  substantive  is  apt  to  produce  a  misconception, 
it  follows  that  the  one  gives  the  mind  less  trouble  than  the  other,  and  is  therefore  more 
forcible. 

Possibly  it  will  be  objected  that  the  adjective  and  substantive  come  so  close  together, 
that  practically  they  may  t>e  considered  as  uttered  at  the  same  moment;  and  that  on 
hoaring  the  phrase  "a  horse  black,"  there  is  not  time  to  imagine  a  wrongly  colore!  horse 
l>cfore  the  word  '*  black  "  follows  to  prevent  it  It  must  be  owne«l  that  it  is  not  easy  to 
decide  by  introspection  whether  this  is  so  or  not.  But  there  are  facts  collaterally  imply- 
inn  that  it  is  not.  Our  ability  to  anticipate  the  words  yet  unsiwken  is  one  of  them.  If 
the  ideas  of  the  hearer  kept  considerably  Ix'hind  the  expressions  of  the  speaker,  as  the  ob- 
it-otion  assame^  he  could  hardly  foresee  the  end  of  a  sentence  by  the  time  it  was  half  de- 
livered; yet  this  constantly  happens.  Were  the  supfiosition  true,  the  mind,  instead  of 
iintici|iating,  would  be  continnally  following  more  and  more  in  arrear. 

If  the  meanings  of  wonls  are  not  realized  as  fast  as  the  words  are  uttered,  then  tho 
l<»8«  of  time  over  each  word  must  enUiil  such  an  accumalation  of  delays  as  to  leave  a 
hearer  entirely  behind.  But  whether  the  foroo  of  these  replies  be  or  bo  not  admitted,  it 
will  soar(*ely  t)c  denied  that  the  right  formation  of  a  picture  will  be  facilitated  by  present- 
ing its  elements  in  the  order  in  which  they  arc  wanted,  eycn  though  tho  mind  should  do 
nothing  until  it  has  received  them  all.— Ukmbert  Spbvcbr. 

Ambiguity  sometimes  results  from  a  neglect  of  this 

princ'i])le. 


xxxiv  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

Thns  a  newspsper  summarizes  an  official  report  as  follows  : 

The  report  of  Poittinaster  D.  for  the  month  of  July  to  the  I'oHt-offloc  Department  shows 
0    that  during  that  month  there  were  60  carriers  emplojredf  who  made  24,344  ddivery  and 
34,546  collection  tripe  daitw. 

In  other  words,  each  carrier  made  nearly  a  thousand  trii)s  a  day. 
Of  course  "daily  trii)8  "  was  intended,  but  the  transposition  makes 
of  the  adjective  an  adverb.  ,  t  /     .        ^>   vv\ 

hven  when  the  adjective  modifiers  are  many  and  various, 
it  is  sometimes  best  to  bring  them  in  before  the  subject, 
especially  in  poetry. 

Obs.  12. — In  some  cases,  however,  it  is  better  that 
the  adjective  should  follow  the  noun. 

(a)  Custom  has  fixed  certain  forms ;  as : 

Poet  laureate,  governor-general,  lord  paramount,  knight  errant, 
States  General,  court  martial,  body  politic,  notary  jmblic,  sign- 
manual,  Theatre  Royal,  letters  patent,  time  immemorial,  bride 
elect. 

Compare  lord-lieutenant,  duchess-dowager,  Knight  Templar. 

(h)  Cornplicated  Adjectives,  whether  aggregated  or  modi- 
fied, usually  follow,  that  the  noun  be  not  too  long  delayed. 
Thus: 

His  wife,  stout^  ruddy,  and  dark  brow'd.  A  system  worthy  of 
the  name  of  religion.  Details  requisite  for  the  house  of  a  moderate 
gentleman.    A  man  wise  in  his  ovm  conceit. 

Obs.  1 3- —A  serious  and  very  common  error  of  ar- 
rangement is  to  place  tlie  noun  between  the  adjective  and 
the  modifiers  of  the  adjective. 

High  voices  in  altercation,  and  voices  high  in  altercation,  are  by 
no  means  equivalent  expressions.  The  first  represents  the  voices 
as  pitched  high  by  native  quality,  and  the  other  as  pitched  high  by 
the  excitement  of  the  occasion. 


Sec.  I.] 


THE   DEFINITE  ARTICLE. 


XXXV 


In  the  following  example,  tastes  would  vary  as  to 
whether  the  adjectives  should  precede : 

But  while  long,  though  unconscious,  discipline  has  made  it  do 
this  eflSciently.— Herbert  Spencer. 

b.  Demonstrative  Adjectives  distinguish  the 
noun  as  an  individual  from  others  of  its  class,  hy 2>oiiitirvg 
out  instead  of  describing  it. 

These  adjectives  may  be  classified  as  (i.)  Definite,  (ii.) 
Indefinite,  and  (iii.)  Kumeral. 

i.  Definite  Adjectives  include  (a)  The  Definite 
Article,  (/3)  the  pronoun  adjectives,  This  and  That. 

a.  The  Definite  Article  is  used  to  refer  to  some- 
thing already  distinguished  in  the  mind  from  others  of  its 
class,  or  about  to  be  distinguished  by  limitation. 

Less  frequently  it  is  prefixed  to  plural  odjectivea ;  as,  "  Naught  eave  good  of  the  de- 
parted ; "  or  to  singular  adjectives  to  form  an  abstract  noun ;  as,  "  Worship  of  the  visible ; " 
or  before  a  singular  noun  to  represent  a  class ;  as,  "The  oak  is  harder  than  the  elm."  It 
is  also  prefixed  to  superlatives  to  make  them  more  emphatic,  and  to  comparatives  when 
followed  by  qf,  or  in  phrases  like  "  the  more  the  merrier.'" 

The  definite  article  is  nothing  in  itself ;  it  is  a  pointing  word, 
and  what  it  points  to  is  given  in  the  first  instance  by  a  relative 
clause  to  follow;  "the  book  that  you  wish,"  *' the  shoj)  that  we 
have  passed."  By  the  curtailments  of  the  clause  we  reach  the 
participial  phrase,  and  then  the  adverbial  phrase,  the  commonest 
of  all  ways  of  signifying  the  reference  of  the  article  ;  "the  clock  in 
the  steeple,"  "  tlie  way  to  glory,"  "  the  Tower  of  London."  The 
vague  preposition  **  of  "  answers  the  purpose.— Bain. 

Obs.  1 4. — The  article  must  bo  repeated  when  the  sec- 
ond of  two  connected  nouns  refers  to  a  different  object 
(see  Obs.  35,  page  Ivi).     Thus : 


Referring  to  one  object. 
The  secretary  and  treasurer. 
A  black  and  white  horse. 


Referring  to  two  objects. 
The  secretary  and  the  treasurer. 
A  black  and  a  white  horse. 


xxxvi  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

This  applies  also  to  adjectives  that  accompany  the  article 
and  belong  to  both  objects ;  as,  Philosophers  rejected  with 
equal  fervor  the  established  religion  and  the  [established] 
political  creed. — Leslie  Stephen. 

Exercise  XL — Improve  the  following  sentences  by  re- 
peating articles  and  adjectives  where  necessary. 

Kmmple. — They  possessed  both  the  civil  and  the  ciiminal  juris- 
diction. 

They  possessed  both  the  civil  and  criminal  jurisdiction. — Hume. 
The  elder  and  younger  son  .  .  .  were,  like  the  gentleman 
and  lady  in  the  weather-box,  never  at  home  together. — Thackeray. 
The  pursuers  and  pursued  entered  together.  The  lords  spiritual 
and  temporal,  wisdom  and  folly,  the  virtuous  and  the  vile,  the 
learned  and  ignorant,  the  temperate  and  debauched,  all  give  and 
return  the  jest. — Bro%\'N.  My  Christian  and  surname  begin  and 
end  with  the  same  letters. — Spectator.  The  French  and  English 
writers.  — Blair.  Tlie  creed  of  Zoroaster  supposes  the  co-existence 
of  a  benevolent  and  malevolent  principle. — Waltkb  Soott. 

Exbroise  XII. — In  the  following  sentences,  state  whether 
one  object  or  more  than  one  is  referred  to,  and  how  the 
meaning  may  be  changed  by  repeating  or  omitting  the 
article. 

Example. — "Wanted  a  nurse  and  housemaid,  means  that  the  same 
person  is  to  be  both.  Wanted  a  nurse  and  a  housemaid,  means 
that  two  persons  are  wanted. 

The  Town  and  County  Bank.     Alike  the  busy  and  the  gay. 

And  owns  the  patron,  patriot,  and  the  friend. — Savage. 

She  never  considered  the  quality  but  merit  of  her  risitors. — Wm. 
Penn. 

Before  the  use  of  the  loadstone,  or  knowledge  of  the  compass. — 
Dryden. 

Obs.  I  5. — Sometimes,  especially  when  there  are  more 
than  two  connected  nouns  referring  to  the  same  object,  the 


Sec.  I.]  THE  DEFINITE  ARTICLE.  xxxvii 

article  is  repeated  for  emphasis.     In  such  cases,  the  am- 
biguity is  usually  removed  by  the  context.     Thus : 

Dare  any  soul  breathe  a  word  against  the  sweetest,  the  ten- 
derest,  the  most  angeUcal  of  young  women  ? — Thackeray. 

Of  these  pamphlets  the  longest,  the  bitterest,  and  the  ablest  was 
V  commonly  ascribed  to  Ferguson. — Macaulay. 

I  returned  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man. — (Coleridge. 

Obs.  1 6. — AV^hether  we  should  say  "  the  first  two,"  or 
"  the  two  first,"  is  a  matter  of  discussion. 

The  meaning  to  be  expressed  is,  bring  me  the  first,  second,  and 
third  of  a  row ;  or  bring  me  all  from  the  first  to  the  third.  De- 
siring a  shorter  mode  of  statement,  we  are  accustomed  to  say  "  the 
first  three,"  or  "  the  three  first,"  neither  of  the  forms  admitting 
of  being  construed  strictly. 

The  following  occurs  in  Matzner  : 

In  conne<;tlon  with  flrat  nnd  other,  the  cardinal  number  is  found  brfore  or  after : 
"The  four  .first  acts"  (Sheridan,  Critic,  I.  1);  ''For  the  Jrst  ten  nnnntes"  (Cooiier, 
Spj/,  I'J);  "Four  other  children"  (Lewcp,  Goethe,  I.  18);  "  Otiier  seven  days"  (Gen. 
viii.  12). 

The  preference  of  grammarians  is  for  the  "  firet  three  ;  "  with 
regard  to  *' three  fii-st,"  they  ask,  How  can  three  be  first?  The 
only  answer  is  to  retort  that  the  "  firet  three  "  is  inapplicable  to 
tlie  first,  second,  and  third  of  a  single  pile  ;  it  supposes  a  line  of 
three  abreast.  t^A/  v 

We  find  in  good  use  such  expressions  as  these  :  "the  tiro  high- 
est  men;"  "  the /*ro  .s^/avw/n/^  chapters  ;  "  "the  tiro  next  candi- 
dates." Of  a  work  brought  out  in  two  vohimes,  a  critic  said — "  the 
tiro  best  volumes  of  light  reading  that  have  appeared  this  year." 
)    This  wouhl  have  been  a  case  for  •'  the  best  two  volumes." 

Gibbon  says  of  the  history  of  Rome  : 

*' The  .s-tfre/j/r.s/ centuries  were  filled  with  a  succession  of  tri- 
umphs." This  is  hardly  to  be  imitated  ;  no  more  can  we  com- 
mend "the  first  seven  centuries."  Better  avoid  the  form  alto- 
gether. "  For  seven  centuries  (from  the  first)  the  histoiy  was  a 
succession  of  triumphs." — Bain. 


xxxviii  ADJECTIVES.  (Part  I. 

(ff)  This  and  That  are  used  to  refer  distinctively  to 
two  objects  already  ni*»»itioned. 

Obs.  I  7. — For  this  purpose  we  have  a  series  of  adjec- 
tive couples ;  as, 

That,  This. 

The  one.  The  other. 

The  former,  The  latter. 

The  first.  The  second. 

The  first  named.        The  last  named,  etc. 

By  writers  generally,  the  couple  ••  former  and  latter"  is  more 
used  than  any  of  the  rest.  In  my  judgment,  the  other  fonns  are 
in  many  instances  preferable.  From  an  extensive  examina- 
tion of  cases,  I  am  incUned  to  believe  that  the  reference  by 
••  former  and  latter  "  is  frequently  very  obscure.  I  subjoin  a  few 
examples,  selecting  first  from  Gibbon,  who  makes  gteat  use  of  the 
construction. 

We  have  computed  the  iiihabUants,  and  oontemplatod  tho  public  teorti  ot  the  Roman 
Empire.  The  obiscrvation  of  the  number  and  grreatnees  of  it8  cities  will  Hcrve  to  con- 
firm the/ormer  and  multiply  the  latter. 

A  most  perplexed  reference.  The  antecedent  to  "  former  '* 
should  have  been  *'  [we  have  given]  a  computatioti  of  the  inJiabitanta,'* 
while  "  multiply  the  latter'*  refers  simply  to  pubiic  works.  There 
is,  moreover,  the  very  common  fault  of  such  references — too  great 
a  distance  from  the  subjects.  Nothing  short  of  repeating  the 
subjects  themselves,  or  gi^^ng  a  various  wording  of  them,  would 
enable  a  reader  easily  to  follow  the  passage.  The  second  sentence 
might  run  thus : 

A  consideration  of  the  number  and  the  greatness  of  the  cities  belonging  to  the  Em- 
pire, will  confirm  oi.r  statement  of  tke  population,  and  enhance  our  estimate  of  the  pub- 
lic works. 

The  productions  of  happier  climates  and  the  industry  of  civilized  nations  were  intro- 
duced into  the  West ;  and  the  natives  were  encouraged  to  multiply  the  /ormer  and 
improve  the  latter. 

In  this  case,  '•  the  one  and  the  other,"  a  more  homely  English 
form,  or  "the  first  and  the  second,"  would  answer  equally  well 
But  the  double  reference  itself  is  of  questionable  propriety  in  such 


Sec.  t]  THE  ONE,  THE  OTHER.  XXXIX 

cases.  It  is  very  artificial  and  clumsy,  if  not  slovenly.  We  ara 
introduced  to  two  subjects,  but  are  not  warned  to  keep  in  mind 
the  precise  order  that  they  are  given  in  ;  presently  we  come  upon 
words  that  direct  us  to  recall  first  one  and  then  the  other,  in  the 
exact  order  ;  the  hardship  being  aggravated  by  the  absence  of  any 
marked  natural  sequence.  Further,  the  suggestion  of  the  idea  of 
zoutrast  is  not  inconsidemble  ;  a  contrast,  however,  that  turns  out, 
on  examination,  to  be  merely  a  contmst  of  ix)sition,  or  one  of 
statement.     .     .     . 

Compare  with  these  instances  Macaulay's  practice : 

James  had,  durinp  the  last  year  of  his  rcipn,  been  even  more  hated  by  the  Tories 
than  by  the  Whigs ;  for  to  the  Whign  he  was  only  an  enemy,  and  to  the  Tories  he  had 
been  a  faithless  and  thankless  friend. 

Our  translation  of  the  parable  of  the  Pharisee  and  the  Publican 
is  an  interesting  example  of  our  mode  of  reference  for  a  twofold 
object. 

Two  men  went  up  into  the  temple  to  pray,  the  one  a  Pharisee  and  the  other  a  Pub 

lican.     The  Pharisee  stood  and  prayed  thus .     And  the  Publican,  standing  afar 

uff,  would  not  lift  up  so  much  as  his  eyes  unto  heavt  n.  ...  I  tell  you  this  man 
went  down  to  his  house  justitieil  rather  than  the  other. 

First  the  subjects  are  introduced  by  their  special  designations, 
along  with  the  correlatives  "the  one"  and  "the  other,"  which 
serve  to  indicate  a  conti*ast,  and  to  warn  the  reader  that  they  are 
to  be  kept  distinctly  separate.  On  the  fii-st  recuiTence  of  the  sub- 
jects, the  names  are  repeated  :  on  the  second  occasion,  "this"  is 
used  for  tlie  second  of  the  two,  being  the  nearest ;  "the  other" 

is  used  for  the  first The  following  old  parnplirase  of 

the  passage  now  quoted  shows  the  more  usual  i)i-actice  in  making 
"  the  one  "  and  "the  other  "  stand  for  "  the  tirat  and  the  second," 
or  "  the  former  and  the  latter." 

Did  two  go  up  to  the  temple  to  pray? 

Or  mther  say  the  one  went  up  to  bmg,  the  other  to  pray. 

The  one  the  nearer  to  the  altar  tnxl. 

The  other  nearer  to  the  altar's  Ood. 

In  easy  cases,  I  should  prefer  this  form.  Next  to  it,  in  my 
judgment,  is  "  (ii-Mt  "  and  "  second." — Bain. 


xl  ADJECTIVES.  [Part  I. 

Thm  BiDl  o«  TH«  Othkb.— *'  Say,  niiBUr,  are  wc  on  thif  side  of  the  bridge  or  the 
other?**  aaked  a  placM  uld  Indy  of  a  gentleman  on  a  Court  Street  car  yesterday  nioriiiug. 

**  We  are  on  thiK  wide,"  res|>ondetl  the  gentleman,  gravely. 

'*  Lawa  me  !    Then  we  ain't  anywhere  near  (ire«nwoo4l  Cemetery  yet  f  " 

'*  Yen,  madam,  we  are  within  a  few  squarea  of  it," 

*'  Bakes  a  maasy  I     I  thought  Greenwood  was  on  the  other  dde  of  the  bridge  I  ^ 

»*  No,  madam  ;  on  this  side." 

"Well,  that  peHky  condactor  told  me  it  wan  on  the  other  side  when  we  started." 

"  It  wan,  madam,  on  the  other  side  then,  but  we  have  crossed  the  bridge.** 

"  Then  we  are  on  the  other  side  !  " 

"  No,  madam,  we  are  on  this  aide  of  the  bridge.    We've  passed  it.** 

"  And  is  Greenwood  on  the  other  side  f  **  she  asked,  starting  up  In  alarm. 

"  No,  it  is  on  tiiis  side.** 

"  Don't  try  to  fool  me  with  yonr  nonsense, "  exclaimed  the  old  lady,  indignantly. 
*'  Don't  try  to  make  me  think  that  Groenwootl  is  on  this  side  of  the  bridge  when  I 
know  better,  and  don't  try  to  make  me  believe  I'm  on  this  side  of  the  bridge  when 
I  know  I'm  on  the  other  !     Don't  ye  do  it.""— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

(II.)  Indefinite  Adjectives  include  (a)  the  Indefi- 
nite Article  ;  {(i)  the  pronoun  adjectives,  except  This  and 
That. 

^    (a)    The    Inderinite   Article  is  the  sign  of  the 
singular  number. 

Our  langnage  ha.s,  however,  two  idioms  that  form  exceptions.  The  article  may  be 
used  (i.)  with  a  plural  adjective,  a  singular  noun,  and  a  singular  verb;  as,  "Many  a 
man  does  it; "  (iL)  with  an  adjective  of  multitude,  a  plural  noun,  and  a  plural  verb  ;  as, 
"A  thousand  liveried  angels  lackey  her."— Miltob. 

A  common  noun  in  the  singular,  not  preceded  by  some  otlier 
adjective  or  by  the  definite  ai'tiele,  takes  the  indefinite  article, 
except  in  the  following  cases  : 

(i.)  In  address  ;  as,  Wretch,  I  dare  thee. 

(ii.)  Where  the  singular  is  used  instead  of  the  plural  to  express 
with  more  emphasis  the  attributes  of  a  class ;  as,  Man  is  moi-tal. 
Poet  and  Philosopher  alike  employ  imagination. 

(iii.)  In  such  exjn'essions  as.  He  became  captain,  He  was 
elected  chairman,  The  i*ank  of  major,  The  relation  of  mother  and 
child. 

(iv.)  In  some  few  recognized  idioms,  gro\s^ng  out  of  effort  to  be 
concise  ;  as,  brought  to  table,  lea\ing  ^-own,  going  to  school,  do\NTi 
hill,  and  the  like. 

For  repetition  of  the  article  before  connected  nouns,  see  page 

XXXV. 


Sec.  I.]  0.0  ADJECTIVES.  xli 

Obs.  18. — The  Indefinite  Article  indicates  one 
thing  of  a  kind,  and  therefore  must  not  be  used  to  denote 
the  whole  kind. 

We  may  say,  The  unicorn  is  a  kind  of  rhinoceros,  but  not,  The 
unicorn  is  a  kind  of  a  rhinoceros. 

(Mi.)  Numeral  Adjectives  are  the  strictest  mode 
of  assigning  degree,  and  are  used  in  all  exact  measure- 
ments.    They  are  either  («)  Cardinal,  or  (|3)  Ordinal. 
Q  "John  Phoenix"  even  went  so  far  as  to  propose  a  system  of 
numerical  atlverbs  of  degree. 

Let  U8  then  represent  by  the  number  100,  the  maximum,  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  every 
human  quality— grace,  beauty,  courage,  strength,  wisdom,  learning— everything.  Let 
perfeftlon,  I  say,  be  represented  by  100,  and  an  absolute  minimum  of  all  qualities  by  the 
number  1.  Then  by  applying  the  numbers  between,  to  the  adjectives  used  in  conversa- 
tion, we  shall  be  able  to  arrive  at  a  very  close  a|>proximaiion  to  the  idea  we  wish  to  con- 
vey ;  in  other  words  we  shall  be  enabled  to  8i>c:ik  the  truth.  Glorious,  soul-inspiring 
Idea  !  For  instance,  the  most  ordinary  question  asked  of  you  is,  '•  How  do  you  do  *  "  To 
this,  instead  of  replying,  "  Pretty  well,"  "  Very  well,"  "  Quite  well,'  or  the  like  absurd- 
ities— after  running  through  your  mind  that  perfection  of  health  is  10(<,  no  health  at  all, 
1— you  say,  with  a  graceful  bow,  •'  Th..nk  you,  Tm  b'i  to  day  ;  "  or,  feeling  poorly,  "  Tm 
13,  I'm  obligeil  to  you  ;"  or  "  Tm  68,"  or  "75,"  or  "87>^,"  as  the  case  may  be  1  Do  you 
■ee  how  very  close  in  this  way  you  may  approximate  to  truth  ;  and  how  clearly  your 
questioner  will  understand  what  he  !-o  anxiously  wishes  to  arrive  at — your  exact  state  of 
health  ? 

I<et  this  system  be  adopted  into  our  elements  of  grammar,  our  conversation,  our  litera- 
ture, and  we  become  at  once  an  exact,  precise,  mathematical,  truth-telling  people.  It 
will  apply  to  everything  but  {xititicH ;  there,  truth  being  of  no  account,  the  system  is  use- 
leia.     But  in  literature,  how  atlinirable !     Take  an  exam)>le : 

As  a  19  young  and  16  beautiful  liidy  was  62  gayly  tripping  down  the  sidewalk  of  our 
84  frequented  street,  she  accidentally  came  in  contact— 100  (this  shouw  that  .she  came  m 
elo«e  contact)— with  a  73  fat,  but87good-humore  '  looking  gentleman,  who  wasd:^  {i.e.,  in- 
tently) gazing  Into  the  wmdow  of  a  toy-shop.  Gracefully  56  extricating  herself,  she  re- 
ceived the  excuses  of  the  96  eml>arrasse<l  Falstaff  with  a  68  bland  smile,  and  continued 
on  her  way.  Hut  hardly— 7— had  she  reached  the  corticr  of  the  block,  ere  she  was  «>ver- 
titken  by  a  21  young  mnn,  32  poorly  dressed,  but  of  an  85  expression  of  countenance  ;  91 
hastily  touching  her  64  iKjautifully  roundetl  arm.  he  said,  to  her  67  surprise— 

"Madam,  at  the  window  of  the  toy-^hop  yonder  you  ilroppe«l  this  bracelet,  which  I 
had  the  71  good  foriune  to  observe,  and  now  have  the  !M  happiness  to  hand  to  you."  (Of 
oonrae  the  expression  *MM  happiness"  is  merely  the  young  man's  ix>litc  hyijcrbole.) 

Blushlirg  with  76  nuHlesty,  the  lovely  (76,  as  before,  of  ctiurse)  lady  took  the  bracelet 
— which  was  a  24  magnitl(H-nt  diamond  clasp  (24  magniflcent,  playfully  sarcastic;  it  wat 
probably  not  one  of  Tucker's)- from  the  young  man's  hand,  and  84  heslt-itingly  drew  from 
her  beautifully  38  embruidcreil  reticule  a  67  portemonnoie.  The  young  man  noticed  the 
action,  and  73  proudly  drawing  back,  added— 

"  Do  not  thank  me  ;  the  pleasure  of  gazing  for  an  instant  at  those  100  eyes  (perhape 


v^ 


xlii  NUMERALS.  [Part  1. 

too  tzaggermted  »  oompliment)  has  already  more  tlum  oompenaated  me  for  any  trouble 
that  I  might  have  had/' 

She  thanked  him.  however,  and  with  a  67  blush  and  a  48  penaive  air,  turiwd  from 
Iiim,  nntl  pursued  with  a  88  alow  step  her  promenade. — A  New  Stfttem  of  Knyliak 
Orammar. 

(a)  Cardinals  are  used  of  groups,  and  show  the  size 
of  the  group ;  as,  Tliree  men  ;  365  days. 

Obs.  1 9. — In  writino  numbers,  round  sums  are  usu- 
ally 8j)elled  out,  as  are  numbers  smaller  than  one  hundred. 
But  where  statistics  are  given,  figures  should  be  used,  how- 
ever small  the  number  may  be.  Sums  of  money  should 
usually  be  expressed  in  figures  where  both  dollars  and 
cents  are  to  be  expressed. 

Note  m. — Numbers  above  one  thousandj  except  in  elates^  are  com- 
monly divided  by  commas  into  periods  of  three  figures  each.  Thus, 
«2,4C7. 89 ;  34, 586, 709.     See  also  page  259. 

Obs.  20. — Collective  "Words,  like  cmiple^  dosen^  etc., 
should  be  used  to  express  number  only  when  the  objects 
enumerated  are  grouped  in  couples,  dozens,  etc. 

Exercise  XIII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — Two  days  after.  (If  it  is  desirable  to  retain  the  air 
of  indefiniteness  that  belongs  to  "  a  conple  of  days  after,"  but  is 
lost  in  the  precision  of  '*  two  days  after,"  we  may  say,  "■  a  day  or 
iwo  after,"  or  "some  two  or  three  days  after.") 

A  couple  ^3f  days  after. — Thackeray.  I  have  another  with  a 
iouple  of  hundred  Continentals  behind  him. — Thackeray.  Wanted 
three  or  four  dozen  females  to  make  match-boxes. 

(y9)  Ordinals  are  used  of  individuals,  and  show  the 
position  of  the  individual  in  the  group  ;  as,  The  third 
man,  The  36otli  day. 

Obs.  21 . — The  th  that  denotes  the  ordinal  should  be 
placed  at  the  end  of  the  entire  number  ;  thus: 

The  Evening  Telegram  says:  "The  Eev.  Thomas  K.  Beecher, 
of  Elmira,  preached  his  seventeenth  hundred  sermon  on  Sunday 


Skc>.  I]  POSSESSIVES.  xliii 

inoming."    The  Telegram  should  explain  what  a  "hundred  ser- 
mon" is,  and  why  Mr.  Beecher  has  preached  seventeen  of  them. 

Obs.  22.— Usage  Differs  as  to  whetlier  a  nnmeral 
following  a  noun  is  to  be  considered  a  cardinal  or  an  ordinal. 

Thus  we  may  write  either  Sept.  3,  or  Sept.  3d ;  Pai-t  Two,  or 
Part  Second. 

(2)  Possessives  denote  possession,  or  some  kindred 
connection. 

For  punctuation,  see  page  259. 

The  tnith  is  that  the  English  case  in  a  has  not  only  the  posse5»8ive  use  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  genitive,  but  the  othi-r  cases  which  stand  nearest  to  this.  Thus  ft  is  constantly 
employed  to  denote  connection  in  family,  or  state,  or  society  :  as  in  John's  bfother, 
Hfnru'H  tieighbor,  EnglaiuCH  queen,  the  king's  enemien — in  old  English  we  find  even  the 
kiny'n  traitors.  Mr.  Manning  might  pt-rhaps  argue  that  to  say  the  ling's  enemies  im- 
plies that  "tlie  king  has  enemies,"  and  expresses  therefore  a  ixisst-sKive  relation.  But 
the  verb  have  is  a  word  of  very  general  ireaning,  which  can  be  use<l  in  a  multitude  of 
CA.<<e8  where  there  is  no  possession,  pro|>erly  so  called,  and  sometimes  even  where  our  pos- 
resaive  case  would  be  inadmissible.  Thus,  every  apple  has  a  half,  but  we  cannot  say 
evert/  apple's  half.  Still  farther  our  case  in  «  is  used  to  express  the  subject  of  an  action 
or  attribute:  as  in  cofo«r<r« /ear,  God's  love,  the  prisoner's  being  alixent.  But  relations 
which  stand  at  a  wider  distance  from  the  possessive  cannot  l)e  expressed  in  tjjiis  way. 
Thus,  the  objective  relation  :  we  do  not  say  Goifs  fear,  but  the  fear  of  Gml ;  not  the 
child's  gttartlinnship,  but  the  guardianship  of  tfu  child.  We  do  indeed  say  England's 
ruler,  the  rhiUTs  gtiarditm  ;  but  here  it  is  political  or  social  connection  that  is  thought 
of,  and  not  the  object  of  the  action.  In  like  manner  our  case  in  «  ainnot  be  nseil  as  a 
genitive  )>artitive  (not  icomen's  loveliest,  but  loveliest  of  women)  ;  nor  as  a  genitive  of  ma- 
terial (not  leather's  girdle,  but  girdle  of  lenthrr) :  nor  as  a  genitive  of  designation  (not 
Ilalij'H  kingdom,  but  kingdom  of  ftalt/).— J amjm  llADiiKY. 

Obs.  23.— The  Objective  Cenitivey  or  the  rela- 
tion of  the  possessive  to  its  noun  as  the  object  of  the  action 
implied  in  the  noiHi,  not  being  permitted  in  English,  snch 
expressions  as  "  In  our  midst,"  for  "  In  the  midst  of  ns," 
nuist  be  carefully  avoided. 

An  attorney  not  celebrated  for  his  probity  was  robbed  one  night 
on  his  way  from  Wicklow  to  Dublin.  His  father,  meeting  Baron 
O'Grady  next  day,  said :  "  My  lord,  have  you  heard  of  my  .«?w^'4 
robbery?"  "No,  indeed,"  replied  the  Baron;  "pray  whom  did 
he  rob  ?  " — Uodoson. 


xliv  POSSESSIVES.  [Part  I. 

Obs.  24. — A  Relation  of  Persons. — "Another 
rule  is  to  avoid  converting  mere  alistructions  into  persons. 
I  believe  you  will  very  rarely  tind  in  any  great  writer  be- 
fore the  lievolutioii  the  possessive  case  of  an  inanimate 
noun  used  in  prose  instead  of  the  dependent  case,  as,  '  the 
w^atclfs  hand,'  for  *  the  hand  of  a  watch.'  The  possessive 
or  Saxon  genitive  w^as  confined  to  persons,  or  at  least  to 
animated  subjects." — Coleridge. 

In  modem  English  the  inflected  possessive  of  nouns  expresses 
almost  exclusively  the  notion  of  property  or  appurtenance.  Hence 
we  say  a  marCB  hat^  or  a  man*8  hand,  but  the  description  of  a  man, 
not  a  man's  desci'ipliou.  And  of  coui-se  we  generally  limit  the  ap- 
plication of  this  form  to  words  which  indicate  objects  capable  of 
possessing  or  enjoying  the  right  of  property  :  in  a  word,  to  persons, 
or  at  least  animated  and  conscious  creatures,  and  we  accordingly 
speak  of  a  woman's  bonnet^  but  not  of  a  house's  roof. — Marsh. 

%    Obs.  25. — Whose  as  the  possessive  of  whwh  (neu- 
ter) is  therefore  subject  to  criticism. 

The  author  asks  credit  for  his  having  here  and  elsewhere  re- 
sisted the  temptation  of  substituting  '' trhose"  for  *' of  trhich"— 
the  misuse  of  the  said  pronoun  relative  "whose,"  where  the  ante- 
cedent neither  is  nor  is  meant  to  be  represented  as  either  personal 
or  even  animal,  he  would  brand  as  one  among  the  worst  of  the 
mimicries  of' poetic  diction,  by  which  imbecile  writei*s  fancy  they 
elevate  their  prose— would  but  that  to  his  vexation  he  meets  with 
it  of  late  in  the  compositions  of  men  that  least  of  all  need  such  ar- 
tifices, and  who  ought  to  watch  over  the  purity  and  pri\41eges  of 
their  mother  tongue  with  all  the  jealousy  of  high  priests  set  apart 
by  nature  for  the  pontificate.  Poor  as  our  language  is  in  tennina- 
tions  and  inflections  significant  of  the  genders,  to  destroy  the  few 
it  possesses  is  most  wrongful. — Coleridge. 

At  present  the  use  of  whose,  the  possessive  of  wJio,  is  jDretty  gen- 
erally confined  to  persons  or  things  pei-sonified,  and  we  should 
scruple  to  say,  '*  I  passed  a  house  whose  windows  were  open.** — 
Marsh. 


Sec.  I.]  WHOSE  AND    ITS.  xlv 

Yet  in  "  Man  and  Katiire  "  Mr.  Marsh  writes,  "  a  quad- 
rangular pyramid,  the  perpendicular  of  whose  sides "  (p. 
14^). 

Campbell  says: 

The  possessive  of  who  is  properly  irhose;  the  pronoun  which, 
originally  indeclinable,  Iiad  no  possessive.  This  want  was  sup- 
plied in  the  common  periphrastic  manner,  by  the  help  of  the 
l)rei>osition  and  the  article.  But  as  this  could  not  fail  to  enfeeble 
the  expression,  when  so  much  time  was  given  to  mere  conjunc- 
tives, all  our  best  authors,  both  in  prose  and  in  verae,  have  come 
now  regularly  to  adopt  in  such  cases  the  possessive  of  tt'ho  ;  and 
thus  have  substituted  one  syllable  in  the  place  of  three,  as  in  the 
example  following :  **  Philosophy,  wJioae  end  is  to  instruct  us  in 
the  knowledge  of  nature,"  for,  "  Philosophy,  iJie  end  of  which  is  to 
instruct  us." — Bhetoi'ic,  ii.  375. 

Its  has  a  curious  history,  showing  the  prejudice  that 
had  to  be  overcome  in  establishing  a  neuter  possessive. 

In  AngrloSaxnn  the  pemonal  pronoun  representetl  in  English  by  he,  fihe,  it.  made  the 
genitiveorpoflsessiveAfo  for  the  mtisculine  and  neiitt-r  gender,  her  (hire)  for  the  feminine, 
and  HO  long  as  grammatical  gender  had  not  an  invsiriablu  relation  to  sex,  the  employment 
of  a  common  form  for  the  m&<c*nline  and  iienter  e.\cite<l  no  feeling  of  inconsrrnity.  The 
change  in  the  grammatical  sigidficnnce  of  gender  Huggested  the  same  embarrassment 
with  n-latiim  to  the  univerHal  application  of  hin  as  of  whone,  and  when  this  waa  brought 
into  dlxtlnct  consciousness  a  remedy  was  provided.  At  first,  it  was  usetl  as  a  possessive, 
without  inflection  or  a  pre|x>-'ition,  and  several  instances  of  this  occur  in  Shaksiiere,  as 
also  in  Leviticus  xxv.  5,  of  the  Bible  of  1011 :  "That  which  growcih  of  it  own  accord." 
/tt,  although  to  be  foimd  in  printed  books  of  a  somewhat  earlier  date,  ir«  not  once  used  in 
that  edition,  hU  being  in  all  ca-ses  but  that  just  riu<d  employtnl  instead.  The  precisedate 
and  occasion  of  the  first  introduction  of  its  in  not  ascertained,  but  it  could  not  have  been 
far  from  the  year  1600. 

For  a  considerable  period  about  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  there  was 
evidently  a  sense  of  inamgruity  in  the  application  of  hia  to  objects  incaimble  of  the  dis- 
tinction of  aex,  and  at  the  same  time  a  reluctan<"e  to  sanction  the  intriwluction  of  the  new 
form  tt«  as  a  sutM-titute.  A<'cordin^fly,  for  the  firft  half  of  that  century  many  of  the  best 
writers  rejected  them  both,  and  I  think  English  folios  can  be  found  which  do  not  contain 
an  example  of  either.  Of  if,  thereof,  and  longer  circnmlocntions  were  preferred,  or  the 
vfry  idea  of  the  poxseiMtive  relation  was  avoidinl  altogether.     .     .     . 

Fuller  has  itn  in  som"  of  his  works,  in  others  he  rejects  it,  and  in  the  Piagah  Sight  of 
Palestine,  printe*!  in  1060.  both  forms  are  sometimes  applietl  to  a  neuter  noun  in  the 
course  of  a  single  «'nt««nce :  a^  "  Whether  from  the  violence  of  winds,  then  blowing  on  iU 
streaui,  and  angering  it  beyond  kia  banks.''— Mauh. 


xlvi  POSSESSIVES.  [Part  I. 

Obs.  26. — Wherever  ambiguity,  or  awkwardness, 
would  result  from  the  use  of  the  ajx)strophe  (see  p.  251)),  it 
is  best  to  avoid  the  use  of  the  possessive  altogether.  Thus, 
instead  of  "  The  bracelet  was  Carlotta's,  the  euipress,"  we 
may  say :  "  The  bracelet  was  that  of  Carlotta,  the  empress." 

This  princii)le  of  avoidance  is  of  wide  application  and  very  great 
usefulness.  The  trainetl  writer  ^^411  often  tintl  that  he  cannot  well 
handle  the  form  of  expression  which  tii'st  occuiTed  to  him ;  and, 
being  fertile  in  rhetorical  expedients,  will  substitute  for  it  an  en- 
tirely dififerent  form,  while  the  novice  will  waste  time  in  vain 
attempts  to  make  the  original  form  graceful  and  appropriate. 

Much  of  the  value  of  sound  rhetorical  instniction  consists  in 
the  suggestion  and  exemplification  of  alteniative  fonns  of  expres- 
sion of  which  we  may  avail  ourselves  in  an  emergency. — Gilmork 

Obs.  27. — Care  must  be  taken  not  to  put  before  a  pos- 
sessive an  adjective  belonging  to  the  thing  possessed. 

Thus,  not,  Red  children's  stockings,  but.  Children's  red  stock- 
ings; not.  The  familiar  postman's  knock,  but,  The  postman's 
familial*  knock. 

Compare:  Even  the  philosophers  sometimes  have  the  laugh 
turned  on  them.  Not  long  since,  in  the  presence  of  Herbert  Spen- 
cer, a  little  boy  said  :  "  What  an  awful  lot  of  crows  !  "  The  phi- 
losopher corrected  the  youth  by  saying,  "  I  have  yet  to  leani,  lit- 
tle master,  that  there  is  anything  to  inspire  awe  in  such  a  bird  as 
the  crow."  For  once  the  author  of  "First  Principles"  had  met 
his  match.  The  boy  replied,  "But  I  didn't  say  there  was;  I 
didn't  say  what  a  lot  of  awful  crows,  but  what  an  awful  lot  of 
crows!  "     Sound,  for  the  boy. — Harper* s  Weekly. 

Exercise  XIY. — In  the  following  sentences  change  the 
possessives  to  prepositional  phrases,  and  the  prepositional 
phrases  to  possessives. 

Example. — If  we  cannot  perceive  the  manner  of  the  poison  of 
sin,  no  wonder  if  we  cannot  perceive  the  method  of  the  antidote 
of  grace. 


Sec.  I] 


APPOSITIVES.  xlvii 


If  we  cannot  perceive  the  manner  of  sin's  poison,  no  wonder  if 
we  cannot  perceive  the  method  of  grace's  antidote. — T.  Fuller. 

A  (Connecticut  newspaper  announces  that  "  the  bam  and  con- 
tents of  Mr.  Giles  Potter  of  Essex  was  burned  Thursday  night." 

The  young  man  did  not  want  natural  talents  ;  but  the  father  of 
him  was  a  coxcomb,  who  affected  being  a  fine  gentleman  so  un- 
mercifully that  he  could  not  endure  in  his  sight,  or  the  frequent 
mention  of  one  who  was  his  son  growing  into  manhood  and  thrust- 
ing him  out  of  the  gay  world.— Cami'BELl. 

(3)  Appositives  result  by  condensation  from  descrip- 
tive clauses.     Thus: 

John  Adams,  the  President,  is  a  shorter  form  for,  John  Adains, 
who  was  the  President. 

Obs.  28. — Apposition  may  be  so  used  as  to  convert 

two  sentences  into  one.     Thus : 

We  called  at  the  house  of  a  person  to  whom  we  had  letters  of 
introduction,  a  musician,  and,  what  is  more,  a  good  friend  to  all 
young  students  of  music. — Abbott. 

This  is  as  clear  as,  He  was  a  musician,  etc.,  and  is  briefer. 

It  would,  however,  be  better  to  put  a  dash  before  "  a  musician." 
See  page  271. 

Obs.  29. — Appositives  should  be  placed  near  the  nouns 

tliat  they  define. 

Exercise  XV. — Correct  the  arrangement  of  the  follow- 
ing sentences. 

JErompfe. —Charles  I.,  the  king  of  England,  was  beheaded  by 
Cromwell. 

Charles  I.  was  beheaded  by  Cromwell,  the  king  of  England. 

Tom  Thumb  was  exhibited  by  Banium,  the  smallest  man  living. 

Dr.  Kane  deserves  to  rank  with  Livingston,  the  arctic  explorer. 

The  horse  was  scared  by  a  snail,  a  nervous  creature. 

Tlie  shawl  was  worn  by  the  governor's  wife,  made  of  camel's 
hair. 


xlvlii  PARTICIPLE    NOUN     MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

(4)   Participles  take  the  pla(!e  of  the  subject  and  the 
predicate  of  a  modifying  clause,  and  often  of  tlie  connec- 
tive, thus  promoting  brevity,  but  endangering  precision. 
/   Obs.  30. — The  participle  should  be  so  placed  that  the 
word  it  modifies  be  unmistakable. 

Exercise  XVL — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — Entering  so  suddenly,  I  did  not  hear  what  jou  said. 
Or,  if  the  other  be  the  meaning,  What  you  said  on  entering  so 
suddenly,  I  did  not  hear. 

I  did  not  hear  what  you  said  entering  so  suddenly. 

I  saw  an  old  school-fellow  yesterday,  when  I  was  in  New  York, 
walking  down  Broadway. 

The  deceased  canie  to  his  death  by  excessive  diinking  produ- 
cing apoplexy  in  the  minds  of  the  Jury. 

The  jury  rendered  a  verdict  of  death  from  suicide  while  labor- 
ing under  insanity. 

The  Gleaner  is  one  of  the  finest  and  fastest  boats  on  the  Tyne. 
Her  accommodations  are  in  every  resi)ect  good  and  comfortal)le, 
and  her  ci-ew  skilful,  steady,  and  obliging,  being  newly  painted 
and  decorated  for  pleasure  trips. 

Sir  Charles  Wetherell  addressed  the  House  for  three  hours 
.  .  .  when,  being  fatigued  by  his  exertions,  their  lordships 
adjourned  to  the  following  day.  — /?ri7/s/i  Almanac^  1836. 

In  an  old  description  of  Albany,  it  is  said,  **  The  place  contains 
some  two  or  three  hundred  houses  and  twenty-five  hunched  in- 
liabitants,  all  standing  with  their  gable  ends  to  the  street." 

With  this  small  force  the  general  determined  to  attack  the  foe, 
flushed  with  recent  victory,  and  rendered  negligent  by  success. 

Adam,  fir?t  of  men. 
To  first  of  women.  Eve,  thus  moving  speech 
Turned  him.— Milton. 

Especial  care  should  be  taken  not  to  omit  the  subject  of 
the  participle. 

The  admiral  was  called  upon  to  say  whether  he  recognized  in 
the  body  present  the  coi-pse  of  the  Emperor  Maximilian.     .     .     . 


Sec.  I.]  AMBIGUOUS   PHRASES.  xHx 

Replying  in  the  affirmative,  the  coffin  was   again  closed. — Pall 

Mall  Gazette. 

Being  early  killed,  I  sent  a  party  in  search  of  his  mangled 

body. — Rough  Xotes  of  an  Old  Soldiei'. 

(Compare,  If  dead,  his  wife  or  children  may  apply.) 

In  the  Mm-ning  Chronicle's  account  of  Lord  Macaulay's  funeral 

occuiTed  the  following  sentence  : 

When  placed  upon  the  ropes  over  the  prave,  and  while  being  gradually  lowered  into 
the  earth,  the  organ  again  ))cale<l  forth.— Alfobd. 

Find  other  illustrations  on  pages  294,  295. 

Obs.  31. — The  participial  phrase  should  be  resolved 
into  a  clause  when  the  context  leaves  it  doubtful  whether 
the  relation  be  when,  ichlle,  though,  that,  or  because. 

Abbott  remarks  of  "  Men  walking  on  ice  sometimes  fall :  "  it  is 
better  to  use  **  men  walking  "  to  mean  "  men  nhen  they  walk."  If 
the  relative  is  meant,  use  "  men  that  walk  "  instead  of  the  participle. 

(1)  H%««howa«      ) 

(2)  Becaute  he  was  }  '^       "*  **°  (  (2)  the  ice 

"When  the  participle  precedes  the  subject,  it  geneiully  implies 
a  cause  :  '•  Seeing  this,  he  retired."  Otherwise  it  generally  has  its 
proper  participial  meaning,  e.g.y  **  He  retired,  keqnng  his  face  to- 
ward us."  If  there  is  any  ambiguity,  write  '•  on  seeing,"  "  cU  the 
same  time,  or  tthile  keeping." 

(I)  Though  he  ■wnx  \  |  (1)  he  neverthelem  stood  his  ground. 

(S)  Since  he  was      >  stnick  with  terror  ■<  (2)  he  rapidly  retreated. 
(3)  //"he  is  )  {  (3)  he  will  Hoon  retrent. 

*•  Desertetl  by  his  friends,  he  was  forced  to  have  recourse  to 
those  who  had  been  his  enemies."  Here,  if  we  write,  "He,  de- 
serted by  his  friends,  was  forced,"  etc.,  he  is  unduly  emphasized  ; 
and  if  we  write,  ♦'  He  was  forced  to  have  recourse  to  his  enemies, 
having  l>een  deserted  by  his  friends,"  the  effect  is  verj'  flat. 

Of  course  we  might  sometimes  write,  "  He  was  deserted  and 
forced,"  etc.  But  this  cannot  be  done  where  the  **  desertion  "  is 
to  be  not  stated  but  implied. 

Obs.  32. — The  participle  being  is  often  omitted;  as, 


1 


INFINITIVES  AS  MODIFIERS.  [Part  h 


France  at  our  doors,  Jie  sees  no  clanger  nigli,  for,  France 
beiju/  at  our  doors,  etc. 

(6)  Infinitives  used  as  adjective  modifiers  are  in  the 
form  of  appositives ;  as,  The  best  course — to  treat  him 
kindly — occurred  to  me. 

He  replied  by  a  i>er8i8tent  refusal  to  enter  his  service. 

He  gave  me  adnee  how  to  behave. 

An  invitation  to  pass  the  summer. 

It  is  to  be  noted  in  passing,  that  the  English  infinitive  corre- 
sponds not  only  to  the  A.-S.  infinitive,  but  also  to  the  A.-S.  genmd. 
The  A.-S.  infinitive  was  characterized  by  no  seimrate  sign,  but  by 
the  termination  -an.  For  example,  Itif-i-aUf  to  love.  The  A.-S. 
genind  was  a  verbal  noun  ending  in  -imne  or  enne,  and  invariably 
preceded  by  the  preposition  to.  For  example,  to  lufigetiney  for 
loving.  These  two  forms  were  practically  confounded  through 
the  influence  of  the  Norman  conquest — the  teiminations  being 
dropped,  and  the  sign  to  indifferently  prefixed  both  to  the  infini- 
tive and  the  gerund.  Hence,  in  many  cases, what  we  now  regard 
as  an  infinitive  might,  properly,  be  regarded  as  a  relic  of  the  A.-S. 
gerund.  For  example,  "He  is  to  blame,*'  means,  "  He  is  for 
blaming,"  and  need  not  be  corrected  into,  "He  is  to  be  blamed." 
So  also,  "  A  house  to  let." — Gilmore. 

(6)  Preposition  Phrases  may  be  used  to  express 
almost  every  sort  of  relation. 

Obs.  33. — Care  must  be  taken  to  employ  the  preposi- 
tion fixed  upon  by  usage  as  appropriate  to  express  a  cer- 
tain relation. 

Usage,  and  that  alone,  determines  our  choice  of  prepositions ; 
and  in  language  usage  is  jDerpetually  changing.  Injlueiice  into^ 
contempm'ary  to,  and  independent  upon,  ouce  were  good  English ;  and 
such  synonymous  to  has  been  within  the  last  hundred  yeai's.  To 
sympathize  in  the  misfortunes  of  another  does  not  appear  to  us  a 
whit  stranger  than  it  appeared  in  the  days  of  Shenstone  ;  any  sym- 
pathy in  her  general  principles  was  the  expression  preferred  by 
Coleridge  in  1800  ;  and  sympathies  toward  may  claim  the  sanction 


Sec.  I.]  PREPOSITION  PHRASES.  H 

of  Landor.  Sympathy /o?-  has  the  consentient  authority  of  Sterne, 
Gray,  Burke,  etc. — Fitzedwakd  Hatji. 

An  educational  journal  thus  describes  the  trouble  a  Frenchman  hnd  with  the  verb 
"  break." 

'*  I  begin  to  understand  your  language  better,"  said  my  French  friend,  Mr.  Dubois,  to 
me,  "  but  your  verbs  trouble  me  still ;  you  mix  them  up  bo  with  prepositions." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  find  them  troublesome,"  was  all  I  could  say. 

•*  I  saw  your  friend  Mrs.  Murkeson,  just  now,"  he  continued.  "  She  says  she  intends 
to  break  down  house- kin-pinp  ;  am  I  ritiht  there  ?" 

"  Break  up  house- keeping,  she  must  have  ^aid.*' 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  remen-.ber  ;  break  up  hor.Be-kecping.'* 

**  Why  does  she  do  that  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Because  her  health  is  broken  into." 

*'  Broken  down," 

"Broken  down?  Oh,  yes.  And,  indeed,  since  the  small-pox  has  broken  np  in  our 
city " 

"  Broken  out." 

"  She  thinks  she  will  leave  it  for  a  few  weeks." 

*•  Will  she  leave  the  house  alone  ?  " 

"  No,  she  is  afraid  it  will  be  broken— broken— how  do  I  say  that  ?  " 

"  Broken  into." 

"  Certainly,  it  is  what  I  meant  to  say." 

*'  Is  her  son  to  Ixs  married  soon  ?  " 

"No,  that  engagement  is  broken — broken-    -  " 

"  Broken  off." 

'•  Yes,  broken  off." 

'•  Ah,  I  had  not  heard  of  that." 

"She  is  very  sorry  about  it.  Her  son  only  broke  the  news  down  to  her  last  week. 
Am  I  right  ?     I  am  an.xious  to  speak  English  well." 

'•  He  merely  broke  the  news  ;  no  prei>osition  this  time." 

"  It  is  hard  to  understand.  That  young  man,  her  son,  is  a  fine  young  fellow ;  a 
breaker.  I  think." 

•*  A  broker,  and  a  very  fine  yoimg  fellow.     Good-day." 

So  much  for  the  verb  "  to  break." 

A  country  editor,  referring  to  visiting  a  family  wlio  gave  him  a 

meal,  said  :  '•  We  are  indebted  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  ,  with  whom 

we  should  be  pleased  for  further  acquaintance."  This  is  about  on 
a  par  with  the  young  orator  in  a  country  debating  club,  who  said  : 
"  Mr,  Chainnan,  every  community  is  divided  into  two  classes — 
the  educated  and  the  uneducated — one  of  whom  I  am  which." 

Appropriate  Prepositions.— The  followiiii?  list 
incliidcs  most  of  the  phnises  in  which  prepositions  are 
coinnionly  misused.     It  is  made  up  from  the  tables  in 


lu 


PREPOSITION  PHRASES. 


(Part  I. 


Worcester's  Dictionary  (pages  xl.,  xli.),  Angus's  "Hand- 
book of  the  English  Tongue  ''  (pages  325, 326),  and  Canip- 
belPs  "  Hand-book  of  Synonyms  and  Prepositions"  (pages 
141-153).  Tlie  last  is  esj^ecially  recommended  to  tliose 
who  would  be  exact  in  their  use  of  prepositions,  as  it  gives 
a  multitude  of  quotations,  illustrating  the  nicer  distinc- 
tions. 


•bhorrrnoe  of. 
Bbhorrent  to. 
abound  in,  with. 
abaolTe  from, 
•ooedeto. 
Rcoept  (of). 

•coommodate  to  (of  thingv). 
with   (of  per- 
bodr). 
acoompanied  by,  with, 
accord  with  (neuter), 
to  (transitive), 
accordance  with, 
according  to. 
accuse  of. 
aoqnaint  with, 
acquiesce  in. 
acquit  of. 
adapted  to,  for. 
adequate  to. 
adhere  to. 
admission  to,  into, 
admit  to,  into. 

(of), 
advantage  of,  over, 
advocate  of,  for. 
affinity  to,  with,  between, 
agree  with  (a  person). 

to  (a  proposal). 

upon  (conditionn). 

in  (thinking). 

among  (themselves), 
aprecable  to. 
alien  from,  to. 
allie«l  to,  with, 
alter  from,  to,  into, 
n Iteration  in. 
ambitious  of. 
amuse  with,  at. 
analdgoup  to. 

analogy  between,  to,  with, 
angry  with  (a  person). 

at  (a  thing). 
ant4igonistic  to. 
antagonism  to,  between. 
antiv»athy  to,  against. 
anxii>ns  for,  about, 
applicable  to. 
appoint  to,  over, 
apprehensive  of. 
appropriate  to. 
approve  (of). 


argue  with,  against 
array  with,  in. 
arrive  at.  in.  from, 
ascertain  from, 
aak  of  (a  iwrson ). 

for  (a  thing). 

after  (to  inquire), 
aspire  to.  after, 
assent  to. 
aaainiilate  to. 
astoiiiahed  at. 
attend  to  (listen)- 

upon  (wait), 
attended  by,  with.  Us  on* 
avail  one's  self  of. 
avenge  one's  self  on. 
•Teraeto. 

banish  from. 

base  on.  upon. 

believe  in,  on. 

bestow  npm. 

bonnd  lor. 

brag  of. 

bump  against 

burn  up,  down,  out  with. 

capable  of. 
call  on  (a  jterson). 
at  (a  house), 
in  (question), 
aftt-r,  by  (name). 
care  for,  about,  of. 
careful  of.  in. 
caution  against  (calamity). 

in  (action), 
celebrated  for. 
certain  of. 
change  for,  with,  to,   into, 

from, 
charge  (a  crime)  on,  against 
(one), 
(one)  with  (a  crime), 
(a  trust)  to  (one), 
cheat  of,  out  of,  with,  by. 
clear  of  (harm). 

from  (guilt), 
coincide  with, 
collide  with, 
combine  with,  into, 
common  to,  with. 


communicate  to  (transitive), 
with  (intransi- 
tive), 
compare  with      (for     judg- 
ment), 
to  (for  illuHtrarion). 
comparison  with,  between. 
c4)ni|Hitibie  with, 
complain  of. 
complaint  against,  of. 
complinnt-e  with, 
comply  with. 
c<»mi>o«etl  of. 

conct-med  at,  for  (a  thing), 
with  (a  person), 
in  (a  proceeding). 
concnr  with  (a  peraon). 
in  (an  opinion). 
condole  with  (a  person). 

for  (a  loss), 
confide  in  (intransitive). 

(a  thing)  to. 
conform  to. 
,  conformable  to. 
!  confuiniity  with,  to. 
!  congi-nial  to. 

ccmgratnlnie  u)K»n. 
j  conne<-t  with.  to. 
I  connive  with  (a  person). 

at  (a  thing). 
I  consist  of.  in  (substance). 
I  with  (harmony). 

;  consistent  with,  in. 
I  consider  (of). 
j  consonant  to.  with. 
I  contend  with  (a  person). 
'  for  (a  principle,  ob- 

ject), 
againet    (an    obsta- 
cle). 
I  contiguous  to. 
'  contradictory  to. 
I  contrary  to. 

contrast  with,  to.  between. 
',  controversy  with  (a  person). 
I  '  about    (a    mat- 

I  ter). 

I  convenient  to,  for. 
j  conversant  with,  in,  about. 
!  convert  into, 
convict  of. 
copy  after  (an  example). 


Sec.  I.] 


APPROPRIATE  PREPOSITIONS. 


liii 


copy  from  (nature), 
out  of  (a  book), 
correspond  with,  to. 
corrc«|)ondenoe  with, 
conplc  by.  with,  together,  to, 

in. 
covered  by,  with, 
cure  of. 


danger  of,  from. 
daltHi  at,  from, 
(leal  with,  by. 
tloftnd  from,  atrainRt. 
deference  to,  for.  toward. 
deRcieiit  in. 

•leliKhted  by,  at,  with.  in. 
deliver  from,   out  of  (trou- 
ble), 
over  (a  package), 
demand  of,  from, 
denounce  upon,  against. 
«;e|>pnd  up«in. 
de|Hjndcnt  on. 
deprive  of. 
dero^te  from. 
derf>Kation  to,  from,  of, 
derogatory  to. 

deserve  of,  from  (a  person). 
de«ire  for,  of,  after, 
desirous*  of. 
desist  from, 
devolve  on. 
die  of.  with,  from,  by. 
differ  among  (thomKelves). 
from  (one  another), 
from,   with  (irt  opin- 
ion), 
about,  concerning  (a 
qneHtion). 
difference  with  (a  penion). 

between  (objects), 
different  from, 
difficulty  in. 
diliit«»  upon, 
diiiiinutiim  of. 
direct  14),  toward, 
dimgree  with  (a  pernon). 

to  (n  proposition). 
dlMgreeablc  to. 
diaapiiomtod  of   (Momei  bing 
not  gr>t). 
in   (Mtmething 
got). 
dlHapprove  (of). 
diKcontcntod  with. 
diMCOurage  from. 
diiioounigt>ment  to. 
diRorimiiiate  between     (two 
thingH). 
(one)  from  (an- 
other), 
difidain  for. 
dii>ongaged  from. 
diMgUHtvil  with  (a  iiemon). 

with,    at,    by    (a 
tiling). 


dinlike  to,  of. 

diwiualify  for,  from. 

dissimt  from. 

dissuade  from. 

distiuKuishcHl  by,  for,  from. 

distinction  from. 

divest  of. 

divide  between  (two). 

amcmg  (Reveral). 

into  (parts), 
due  from,  to. 


eager  in,  for,  after. 

earnest  in,  for. 

embark  in. 

embellished  by,  with. 

employ  in,  on,  about. 

enamored  of,  with. 

encounter  (with). 

encouragenieut  to. 

encroach  on. 

en<leavor  after. 

engngo  in. 

cnpravc  on,  in. 

enjoin  u|><m,  to. 

enrage  with,  at,  against. 
1  enrich  by,  with. 

enter  in,  into,  u|K)n. 

entertain  by,  with. 

entrance  into. 

envious  of.  against,  at. 

environ  with. 

envy  at,  of. 

eijurtl  to,  with. 

e<iually  with. 

etiuivalcnt  to. 

escape  from,  out  of. 

es|K)u«e  to. 

example  to,  for. 

exas))erate     at     (an     act), 
against  (a  person). 

except  from. 

exception  to. 

exclude  from. 

ex<;lu8ive  of. 

exhausted  by,  with. 
I  exonerate  from. 
,  exiH'iit  from,  of. 
!  expel  frf»m,  out  of. 

expert  in.  at. 
.  cxiMjse  to. 
I  for  (sale). 

I  expostulate  with. 

exult  over. 


fall  nnder  (observation). 

lnt«.  (dimcultles). 

U|>on  (enemies). 

to.  on  (the  ground), 
familiar  to,  with. 
fav<irat>lu  for.  to. 
favorite  f>f,  with, 
filled  with, 
fulloweti  by. 
forbear  froin. 


foreign  to.  from, 
formed  of.  from, 
found  upon, 

in  (truth), 
free  from,  with, 
friendly  to,  with, 
frightened  at. 
frown  at,  on. 
frugal  of. 
fruitful  in,  of. 
fall  of. 


glad  of,  at. 
glance  at.  upon, 
good  at,  for,  to,  toward, 
graduate  at,  in. 
gradiiate<l  Iroin. 
graft  u]Hm,  in,  into, 
grapple  with, 
gratelul  to  (a  |>erson). 
for  (a  thing), 
greedy  of,  after, 
grieve  at,  for. 
guilty  of. 


hanker  after,  for. 
happen  to,  u|>on. 
harass  by,  with, 
hatred  to,  of. 
healed  of, 
hinder  from, 
hold  of,  on, 
hunger  for,  after. 


ill  of. 

illustrated  by,  with. 

immersed  in. 

impatient  with  (a  (wrson). 

at  (his  conduct). 

of  (restraint). 

for      (something 
wantetl). 

under       (misfo.*- 
tune), 
impose  upon, 
impress  upon,  with,  by. 
imprint  u|K)n. 
incapacitate  by,  from, 
inocnsec]  with,  againsL 
incentive  to, 
include  in. 
incompatible  with, 
incorpornte  into,  with, 
incunib«>nt  upon, 
indo|H>ndent  of, 
indifferent  to, 
indis|)i<nMd)le  to. 
indulge  with,  in, 
indulgent  to,  of. 
infer  from, 
inferior  to, 
influence  with,  orer. 
inform  of,  about, 
Ing. 


}iv 


PREPOSITION  PHRASES. 


[Pakt  I. 


initiate  into. 

inquire  of,  for,  after,  about, 

concerning,  into, 
inquiry  into. 
IniwnHible  to,  of. 
inHcttanible  from, 
insert  in,  into. 
inNight  into. 

inainuHte  into,  tbrougli,  to. 
in^iwction  into,  over, 
intfiit  on. 

interfere  with,  in.  between. 
intcrK|ierae  among,  thruogh, 

with, 
intervene  between, 
intn  tluite  to  (a  peivon). 
into  (a  plare). 
intrude  n|ton  (a  iiemon). 

into  (a  place), 
intrudt  to,  wiih. 
inure  to. 
invent  with, 
involve  in. 

irritatod  by,  agaiuRt  (a  per- 
■on), 
by,  at  (a  thing), 
iarae  from,  out  oC 


join  to,  with. 


killed  by  (an  enemy), 
with  (fatigueX 
linow  about,  of. 


lean  against,  upon,  to. 
libenU  of,  in. 
liRtcn  for,  to. 
live  at  (a  village). 

in  (a  city,  country). 

on  (the  earth). 

upon  (fo<xi). 
long  for,  after, 
loolt  for,  after,  npon. 

into,  in. 
lore  of,  for,  to. 

make  of,  from,  out  of,  with, 

for. 
marry  to. 
njartyr  for.  to. 
mastery  over,  of. 
ma'tcr  with, 
nieddfc  with,  in. 
mindful  of. 
mix  with,  in. 
model  after,  on,  in. 
mortified  with,  at. 
mourn  for,  over. 

name  after,  from, 
necessary  to,  for. 
neces  ity  for,  ot 
need  of. 


object  to. 

obioction  to.  against. 
obliviouH  of. 
obiioxiouR  to. 
otN«rvanoe  of. 
obtain  from,  of. 
occaaion  for,  of. 
occupy  by,  with,  in. 
uffended  with,  by,  at. 
opinion  on,  about, 
opptirtunity  of,  for. 
offended  with,  by,  at. 
opinion  on,  about, 
opportunity  of«  for. 
opiKMite  (to). 
oppoMtioti  to. 
originate  in,  from, 
overwhelm  with,  by,  in. 


parallel  to,  with. 

part  from.  with. 

parukc  (of). 

partial  to.  toward. 

iwrtiality  to,  for. 

partici|«te  in. 

patic- 1   •  f,    with,    toward. 

under, 
peculiar  to. 
pendent  f  nim. 
penetrate  into,  within,  to. 
perish  of,  by. 
perMnvere  in. 
pitT  on. 

plearcd  with,  at. 
poAxewwd  of,  with,  by. 
prediApoAcd  to.  toward, 
prefer  to,  before,  above, 
preferable  to. 
preference  to,  before,  over, 

alxive,  for. 
prefix  tt>. 
prejudice  against, 
prejudicial  to. 
prewnt  to,  with. 
pre*«id»»  over, 
prevail    upon,    with,    over, 

against, 
prevent  from. 
pro<luctive  of. 
profitable  to,  for. 
prohibit  from, 
prolific  of. 
pro}x;r  to. 
proportion  to. 
protect  from,  a<^ainst. 
provide  with,  for,  against, 
punish  with,  by,  for. 
purge  from.  of. 
pursuance  of. 
put  into,  in. 


rail  at,  against. 

read  in.  out  of,  from,  over. 

receive  of,  from. 

recite  out  of,  from. 


reckon  upon. 

reclint-  upon 

reooncile  to,  with. 

recover  from. 

recreant  to. 

reilnoe  to,  under. 

rrganl  for,  to. 

ragret  for. 

rejoice  at,  in. 

relieve  from,  of. 

relifh  for,  of. 

rely  njion. 

remark  n|>on. 

remetly  for.  ngninst. 

rcuioriKtiatf  with,  against. 

roiimt  (a  iMi-wige)  of,  from, 

out  «»f. 
repent  of. 
I  repine  ni,  for. 
replete  with. 
re«pii>>ite  f<ir,  to. 
re,>ruach  with,  for. 
nitearch  into. 
reMenibiancc  to. 
reside  at,  in. 
resolve  upon, 
respect  lor.  to. 
reward  witb,  by,  for. 
rich  in. 


Mil  for.  to. 

■ated  with. 

satisfy  with. 

•earch  for,  after,  into,  out 

■eairc  of,  fr<>m,  against. 

seek  for,  afU-r. 

seised  by,  with. 

sell  for,  by  (auction)  in  Eng- 
land. 
at.  in  United  States. 

share  in.  of. 

sick  of,  with. 

similar  to. 

similarity  to,  between,  of. 

situated  on  (thii^  side). 

in  (.Main  Street). 

skilful  in,  of,  at. 

smile  at^  upon. 

solicitous  about,  for. 
!  speak  to,  with,  about,  npon. 
]  strive  with,  against,  for. 
j  snflftcient  for. 
I  suitable  to,  for. 
I  Buite-l  to,  with. 

surpriseii  at,  by,  with. 

surround  by,  with. 
I  swerve  from. 

sympathize  with,  in. 

sympathy  with,  for,  l)etween. 


taste  of.  for. 
thick  with, 
think  of,  about,  on. 
thirst  for,  after, 
threaten  by,  with. 


Skc.  I.)  APPROPRIATE  PREPOSITIONS.  Iv 


tire  with,  of,  by.  |  VRrinnoo  with. 


trantilate  from,  oat  of,  into. 
treat  of. 
trust  in,  to. 


nnison  with. 

unite  to,  with,  in,  by. 

unworthy  of. 


vtThcd  in. 
vi-st  in,  with, 
vexed  with,  at. 
view  of,  to. 


wait  upon,  for. 
want  uf,  with. 


weary  of,  with,  in. 

worthy  of. 

write  from,  down,  out. 


yearn  for,  after,  toward, 
yoke  with. 

eealouH  for,  in. 


The  mistakes  of  most  frequent  occurrence  in  this  con- 
nection consist  in  making  one  preposition  tlie  complement 
of  two  different  or  contrasted  words.  Thus:  lie  was  a 
man  witli  whom  he  agreed  on  a  few  subjects  but  [from 
whom  he]  differed  on  many. 

ExKKCisK  XVII. — Replace  the  prepositions  in  the  fol- 
lowing sentences  by  those  appropriate: 

Example.  — It  is  abhorrent  to  my  instincts. 

It  is  al)boncnt  from  my  instincts.  He  accused  me  with  false- 
hood. He  is  acquitted  from  suspicion.  "What  atlvantage  is  it, 
above  being  recognized  ?  The  wagon  collided  against  the  car.  It 
was  in  compliance  to  my  request.  In  compliance  of  your  message 
I  have  come  to  see  you.  This  is  different  to  that.  He  allied 
differently  than  I.  He  disagreed  from  the  report.  They  dissented 
to  the  plan.  He  took  exception  from  the  remai'k.  Why  take  ex- 
ception at  a  hasty  word?  It  is  incompatible  from  my  principles. 
He  is  indoi)en(1cnt  from  the  society.  These  aj^ples  are  inferior  than 
the  last.  The  thought  is  insei)arable  to  the  proposal.  What  is 
the  matter  of  the  cat  ?  He  was  named  George  for  me.  There  is 
need  for  more  money.  Do  you  object  against  him  ?  I  have  no 
prejudice  to  him.  I  rely  in  you.  It  has  great  similarity  with  his 
former  book.  The  Iioumo  is  on  tlie  ]>riii«'ii)al  street.  He  is  zealous 
of  goo<l  works. 

If  any  fault  can  bo  found  to  his  mlniimble  eloquence,  it  is  that 
ho  Komotimes  bordei-s  on  the  hard  and  dry. — Blaib. 

Obs.  34. — Beware  of  omitting  necessary  prepositions, 
and  of  inserting  them  needlessly. 

E.XKRcisK  XVIII. — Ueinove  or  insciL  prc-put^it ions  as  re- 
quired in  the  following  sentences. 


Ivi  PREPOSITION  PHRASES.  [Pabt  I. 

Example. — ^We  entreat  thee  to  hear  us.     She  is  at  home. 

We  entreat  of  thee  to  hear  us.    She  is  home  [an  exasperating 
vulgarity].     His  ser^'ants  ye  are  to  whom  ye  obey.     It  is  worthy 
your  notice.      Notwithstanding  of  the  numerous  panegyrics  on 
ancient  English  liberty. — Hume. 
Continuing  your  remarks  on  my  criticisms,  you  say  : 

It  must  reqnire,  to  speak  in  the  tented  tantimge  whUA  eome  of  mv  correspondents 
ophoid,  «  most  abnormal  dongntion  c^  the  anrlcnUr  appendages,  fur  a  reader  to  have  nug- 
gested  to  his  mind  a  fsll  from  the  snblime  height  of  ignorance  down  into  the  depth  of  a 


I  8ix)ke  of  editors  falling  into  mistakes :  it  remained  for  the 
Dean  of  Canterbury  to  add  that  they  fell  dotni  into  the  depth  of  a 
mistake.  You  say  you  do  not  wiite  for  idiots ;  who  else  would 
imagine  it  were  jxissible  to  fall  t<p  into  a  depth  ? — Moon. 

Obs.  35. — The  preposition  must  be  repeated  wlien 
the  second  of  two  connected  nouns  refers  to  an  object  not 
closely  associated  with  tlie  first,  especially  a  contrasted  ob- 
ject.    (See  Obs.  9,  page  xxxv.) 

But  obverse  couples  are  to  be  regarded  as  foi*ming  one  com- 
pound idea,  unless  there  be  specific  separation.  "  The  nile  of 
right  and  wrong  "  is  the  correct  way  of  stating  the  rule  that  settles 
what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong.  So  "  a  question  of  pleasure  and 
pain,"  "  the  theory  of  heat  and  cold,"  etc.  **  By  obsenation  and 
experiment,"  means  the  ap^jeal  to  facts  generally,  as  opix)sed  to 
deductive  inferences  apart  from  facts.  "  By  obsen-ation  and  by 
experiment "  dissociates  the  two  methods  as  different  ways  of  ar- 
riving at  truth. 

R^erring  to  oModaUd  of^feett.  I  Referring  to  diacuaoeiated  objecta. 

Two  essays  on  Gold  and  Currency.        I       Two  esv^ya  on  Gold  and  on  Currency. 

(It  is  questionable  whether  so  much  ambiguity  should  be  trusted 
to  the  preposition.  Punctuation  will  easily  remove  it,  as  follows  : 
Ttco  essai/s  on  *'  Gold  and  Currency,"  for  the  one  meaning,  and 
Ttro  essnt/Sf  on  Gold  and  on  Currency,  or  on  '*  Gold*'  and  on  *'  Cur- 
rency^'' for  the  other.     See  pages  265,  270.) 

Sincerity  combines  rpnlity  of  conviction  and  earnestness  of  purpose  with  purity  or 
freedom  from  unfairness  or  dishonettty. — C.  J.  Smith. 


Sec.  I.]  REPETITION  OF  PREPOSITIONS.  Ivii 

So  far  as  form  is  concerned,  this  may  mean 

(1)  with  (  purity 

or  -<  freedom  from  anfaimess 
or  '  diubonesty, 

the  three  expressions  being  assumed  to  mean  the  same  thing  ;  or 

(2)  with  I  purity 

or  (  freedom  from  (  nnfaimera 
or  ]  diKhonesty, 

the  members  of  each  pair  of  expressions  being  assumed  to  mean 
the  same  thing. 

The  sentence  should  read  : 

Sincerity  combines  reality  of  conviction  and  earnestness  of  purpose  with  purity,  or 
frecilom  from  unfuirncsH  and  from  dishonesty. 

Obs.  36. — The  preposition  slioiild  be  repeated  after 
an  intervening  conjunction,  especially  if  a  verb  and  object 
also  intervene. 

Tims,  He  forgets  the  gi-atitude  that  he  owes  to  those  that  helped 
all  his  companions,  and  John  Smith  in  particular.  Is  John  Smith 
one  of  those  to  whom  he  owes  gratitude,  or  one  of  his  companions 
who  was  heli)ed  ?  If  the  former  is  the  meaning,  to  should  be  re- 
iwated  before  John  Smith. 

Exercise  XIX. — Insert  prepositions  where  needed  in 
the  following  sentences : 

Rrample.—The  Sabbath  was  regarded  as  a  day  for  rest  from 
worldly  occupation  and  for  holy  joy. 

The  Sabbath  was  regarded  as  a  day  for  rest  from  worldly  occu- 
pation and  holy  joy. 

He  sympathized  not  with  their  cause,  but  their  fate.— Bulwer. 

The  bursting  of  the  Mississippi  Scheme  and  South-Sea  bubble. 

Wise  women  choose  not  husbands  for  tli(»  oyo.  merit,  or  birth, 
but  wealth  and  sovereignty. — Ben  Jonson. 

Persons  are  prohibited  from  riding  or  driving  cattle  on  the  foot- 
path. 


Iviii  PREPOSITION  PHRASES.  [Part  I. 

If  we  consider  the  works  of  nature  and  ai-t. — Addison. 

In  the  turn  either  of  style  or  sentiment. — BiiAIR. 

I  must  obser\'e  at  the  same  time  that  the  constant  indulgence 
of  a  declamatory  manner  is  not  favorable  cither  to  good  composi- 
tion, or  good  delivery.— BiiAiB. 

The  moulting  season  is  a  very  interesting  one,  both  for  birds 
and  [other]  bipeds. — B.  H.  Babham. 

Obs.  37. — Preposition  phrases  should  stand  in  close 
connection  with  the  words  tliey  limit. 

The  preposition  phrase  almost  uniformly  follows  the  noun,  on 
the  principle  that  **  Easy  adjuncts  are  placed  first ;  long  or  com- 
plicated adjuncts  come  after  the  noun,  which  is  not  willing  to  be 
too  much  suspended."  Our  usage  comimres  favorably  with  the 
German  usage,  which  would  strike  us  as  intolerably  clumsy.  •'  Ein 
durcfi  Zufall  von  eineni  Unbekaiwteii  aus  einei'  gi-oszen  Lebeusgefahr 
gereUeter  Mann**  is,  literally,  **A  by  accident  by  a  stranger  from 
imminent  peril  saved  man  :  "  "  A  man  saved  acciilentallt/  by  a  stranger 
from  imminent  peiHC  So,  ^^Dieser  iiber  alle  Erwartung  gelungene 
Erfolg  " — ••  This  beyond  all  expectation  successful  result " — "  This  re- 
sult successful  beyond  all  expectation  ;  "  we  might  go  as  far  as  "  This 
siaprisingly  successful  result." — Bain. 

Compare,  The,  I  believe  of  Eastern  derivation,  monosyllable 
Bosh. — Thackeray. 

Illustration. — Tliis  idea  was  as  sweet  as  the  ^dsion  of  a  cool  bath, 
in  a  mai-ble  tank,  in  a  daikened  chamber,  in  a  hot  land. — Henby 
James,  Jr. 

Exception. — Dionysius  of  Haliearnassus  has  given  us  upoii  the 
orations  of  Socrates^  as  also  npon  tlwse  of  some  otfier  Gi-eek  orators^  a 
full  and  regular  treatise,  which  is,  in  my  opinion,  one  of  the  most 
judicious  pieces  of  ancient  criticism  extant,  and  veiy  worthy  of 
being  consulted.— Blair. 

Exercise  XX. — Correct  the  arrangement  of  phrases 
in  the  following  sentences.  (Also  of  those  on  pages  294, 
295.) 

Example. — A  man  with  a  Roman  nose  I  saw  digging  a  ditch. 


SBC.  L] 


ABRANGEMENT.  Hx 


I  saw  a  man  digging  a  ditch  with  a  Roman  nose. 

She  died  in  twenty-four  hours  of  a  hornet's  sting. 

I  saw  a  wihlcat  shot  by  a  little  boy  five  feet  eight  inches  long. 

For  sale.  A  splendid  gray  horse,  calculated  for  a  charger,  or 
would  accommodate  a  latly  with  three  white  feet. 

To  be  sold  cheap.  A  mail  phaeton,  the  property  of  a  gentleman 
with  a  movable  head  as  good  as  new. 

To  be  sold,  an  Erard  grand  piano,  the  property  of  a  lady  about 
to  travel  in  a  walnut  case  with  carved  legs. 

One  i)ound  reward.  Lost,  a  cameo  brooch,  representing  Venus 
and  Adonis  on  the  Dinimcondi-a  road,  about  ten  o'clock  on  Tuesday 
evening. 

The  advertiser  having  made  an  advantageous  purchase  oflfers 
for  sale  on  very  low  terms  about  six  dozen  of  prime  port,  lately 
the  proi)ei*ty  of  a  gentleman  about  forty  years  of  age,  full  in  the 
body,  and  with  a  high  bouquet. 

A  lady  called  from  Australia  to  pay  her  compliments. 

Some  garments  were  made  for  the  family  of  thick  material. 

A  charitable  lady  will  adopt  a  little  boy  ^vith  a  small  family. 

A  fellow  was  arrested  ^nth  shoi-t  hair. 

A  pearl  was  found  by  a  sailor  in  a  shell. 

The  house  was  built  by  a  mason  of  brown  stone. 

Wanted,  a  room  by  two  gentlemen  thirty  feet  long  and  twenty 
wide. 

Oet  for  the  motto,  Unto  us  a  child  is  bom,  ten  feet  long  by 
three  feet  broatl. 

Ul)on  which  the  Moor,  seizing  a  bolster  full  of  rage  and  jeal- 
ousy, smothered  the  unhappy  Desdemona. 

Obs.  38. — Tlie  use  of  two  or  more  prepositions  with 
tlie  same  object  should  be  avoided ;  as, 

It  is  a  mystery  we  firmly  believe  the  truth  of,  and  humbly  adore 
the  depth  of. — Blair. 

Reconstruct  the  sentence  which  violates  this  principle  on  page  hr. 

Another  prevailing  fashion,  still  somewhat  new,  but  which  has 
passed  the  stage  of  novelty,  is  the  holding  of  one  projKJsition  in 
suspense  for  the  introdu<^tion  of  another,  so  that  both  may  api>ly 
to  one  object.     One  example — the  following,  from  the  Loudon 


li  PREPOSITION  PU RASES.  [Part  I. 

Spectator — will  be  enough,  for  the  construction  is  so  common  that 
it  is  not  only  found  in  almost  all  writing,  but  has  invatled  every- 
day speech. 

He  knowK,  farther,  thiit  the  keeper  of  the  Mylam  has  either  been  deoeired  by,  <xi»»n 
aooomplioe  of,  them  docton. 

Now,  the  simple  English  construction  in  all  such  cases  is,  **  H:i 
either  been  deceived  by  these  doctors,  or  is  their  accomplice,*'  or 
"  has  either  l>een  deceived  by  these  doctoi-s,  or  is  an  accomplice 
of  theirs.**  The  attempt  at  elegance  produces  awkwardness.  The 
leaWng  of  words  like  bi/,  of^  throtiyhy  for^  <//,  etc.,  which  present  no 
complete  thought  apart  from  an  object,  in  the  air  like  an  unsup- 
lK)rted  wing  of  an  anny,  is  disastrous.  But  it  has  become  the 
fashion,  and  is  thought  fine.  This  construction  has  one  conse- 
quence which  has  a  very  bad  effect — so  bad  that  on  that  account 
only  it  should  be  condemned  and  abandoned.  It  throws  empha.sis 
upon  the  least  imi)ortant  woixls  in  a  sentence.  It  is  almost  impossi- 
ble to  read'  or  to  speak  a  sentence  like  that  cited  above  \iathout 
emphasizing  it  thus :  **  He  knows  further  that  the  keeper  of  the 
asylum  has  €»ithcr  been  deceived  ftv,  or  is  an  accomplice  of^  these 
doctors,"  which  is  abominable  and  ridiculous.— R.  G.  White. 

Obs.  39.—"  Splitting  of  particles  "  should  be  avoided, 
but  not  too  rigorously. 

Preix)sitions  usually  precede  their  objects,  but  when  the  object 
is  a  pronoun  the  preposition  is  frequently  thrown  forward  to  the 
end  of  the  sentence ;  as,  "A  preposition  is  a  poor  word  to  end  a 
sentence  witli."'     *'  A  peg  to  hang  a  hat  o«.*' — Thackeray. 

"  TS'Bat  a  condition  we  have  found  you  /«."  "  He  was  the  man 
they  preferred  to  surrender  themselves  ^o." 

It  is  sometimes  a  question  whether  the  last  word  iii  a  sentence 
should  be  a  particle  or  a  longer  and  more  important  word. 

We  may  write  (1),  "These  were  the  authorities  [which]  he  re- 
ferred  to  or  commented  iipoyi,''  or  (2)  "  These  were  the  authorities 
to  tcJn'ch  he  refei^ed  or  ivpon  which  he  commented ;  "  (1)  *'  Mr.  James 
Mill  was,  I  believe,  the  first  who  distinctly  characterized  the 
ambiguity,  and  ix)inted  out  how  many  errors  in  the  received  sys- 
tems of  philosophy  it  has  had  to  answer  for,*'  or  (2)  **/o7- how 
many  errors     ...     it  has  had  to  answer  ;  "  (1)  "  It  is  a  funda- 


Sac.  I]  "  SPLITTING  OP  PARTICLES."  Ixi 

mental  principle  in  logic,  that  the  power  of  forming  classes  is 
unlimited,  as  long  as  there  is  any  (even  the  smallest)  distinction  to 
found  a  difference  vpoti,"  or  (2)  "  ttpon  uhich  io  found  a  difference  ;'' 
(1)  "  The  progress  of  knowledge  pointed  out  limits  to  them,  or 
showed  their  truth  to  be  contingent  on  some  circumstance  not 
originally  attended  to,'*  or  (2)  "  to  which  attention  teas  not  originally 
paid." 

There  are  cases  in  which  almost  any  good  writer  will  unhesi- 
tatingly prefer,  for  its  ease  and  often  also  for  its  brevity,  the  more 
informal  stnicture,  and  othei*s  in  which  he  will  prefer  the  more 
stately  one.  The  former  is  more  idiomatic  than  the  latter,  and  is, 
therefore,  more  frequent  in  convei-sation  and  in  familiar  letters 
than  in  books,  and  more  frequent  in  Addison,  Goldsmith,  or  Ir- 
ving, than  in  Gibbon  or  Johnson.  Neither  form  can  be  recom- 
mended as  being  the  best  absolutely  and  in  all  circumstances  ;  for 
a  practised  writer  will  instinctively  choose  the  foim  which  belongs 
in  the  sentence  in  hand.— Hill. 

There  is  another  case  for  inversion,  namely,  in  the  Interrogative 
construction.  The  emphasis  of  interrogation  requires  us  to  begin 
a  question  with  Who,  Whom,  Which,  What,  instead  of  allowing 
a  preposition  to  precede.  **  W?uit  ai*e  we  coming  to?" — not  '*  To 
w?mt  are  we  coming  ?  "  "  Who  or  irhoin  did  you  give  it  to  ?  " — not 
**  To  whom  did  you  give  it  ?  "  To  jireface  a  question  by  a  i)reix)si- 
tion,  partly  does  away  with  the  difference  between  the  relative 
construction  and  the  inteiTogative. 

Speaking  of  progi'ess  Mr.  Disraeli  put  this  inteiTogation — 
"Progress,  from  what  to  what?"  we  might  say  also,  "Progress, 
what  from  and  what  to?"  or  "Progress,  what  from  and  to?"  In 
the  original  form,  "and"  would  possibly  be  an  improvement; 
*'  Progress  from  what  and  to  what  ?  " 

With  w?ie}'e  as  an  interrogative  word,  the  preposition  always 
follows :  xchereto  ?  wherefore  ?  This  accustoms  us  to  the  more 
emphatic  and  loss  ambiguous  form.  Fro%n  whence  is  not  so  good  for 
interrogation  as  where  from,  or  xrhence  ? — Bain. 

This  "  splitting  of  particles,"  as  it  has  been  called,  is  not  un- 
grammatical,  and  is  even  conducive  sometimes  to  exactness  of 
expression  ;  but  it  susjKinds  the  sense  and  directs  attention  to 
what  are  generally  iusigniticant  words.    When  the  words  ai*e  em- 


Ixii  THE  PREDICATE.  [Part  I. 

pliatic,  and  the  intervening  words  are  few,  the  construction  may 
be  allowed  ;  e.g.^  •*  Whether  he  is  for  or  against  us,  I  cannot  tell." 

Elegance  prohibits  an  arrangement  that  throws  the  emphasis 
on,  and  thus  causes  a  suspension  of  the  sense  at,  a  particle  or 
other  unimportant  word  (as  in  this  very  sentence). — Hill. 

A  prei)osition  as  such  is  by  no  means  a  feeble  word.  What 
can  be  finer  than  this  from  Rufus  Choate?  "W^hat!  Banish  the 
Bible  from  our  schools  ?  Never,  so  long  as  there  is  left  of  Plymouth 
Rock  a  piece  large  enough  to  make  a  gunflint  of !  " — Phelps. 

Exercise  XXL — Change  the  position  of  the  preposi- 
tion in  the  following  sentences : 

Kmtnple. — It  was  a  practice  of  which  no  one  knew  the  origin. 
It  was  a  practice  which  no  one  knew  the  origin  of. 
That  is  the  gentleman  whom  I  am  under  obligations  to. 
When  we  met  you,  whom  were  you  in  company  \idth  ? 
Scott  is  an  author  whom  every  one  is  delighted  \i'ith. 
From  what  has  been  stated,  the  reader  M^ill  understand  some- 
thing of  the  subject  which  I  am  to  enter  upon. 

Logic  is  a  study  which  few  derive  real  l)enefit  from. 
They  glide  away  over  the  meadows  in  winter  in  sledges. 

(7)  Adverbial  Phrases  are  also  condensed  clauses; 
as,  The  cathedral  there  is  still  unfinished. 

Comimre  the  use  of  adverbs  before  the  noun,  page  xxxi. 

(8)  Clauses  are  treated  under  the  head  of  Complex 
Sentences. 

THE  PREDICATE. 

The  Predicate  of  a  simple  sentence  is  or  may  be 
separated  into  two  parts,  one  of  which  is  the  Copula  (the 
asserting  woi'd),  while  the  other  is  either  (1)  a  Noun,  (2) 
an  Adjective,  (3)  an  Adverb,  (4)  a  Preposition  Phrase,  or 
(5)  a  Participle. 

Thus,  (1)  And  the  earth  was  all  rest  and  the  air  was  all  love.— 
Shelley. 


Skc.  I.]  A  FUNDAMENTAL  LAW.  Ixiii 

(2)  Thou  art  alive  still  while  thy  book  doth  live, 
And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  give. 

— Ben  Jonson,  of  Shak8i)ere. 

(3)  'Tis  neither  here  nor  there.  —  Othello. 

(4)  He  that  complies  against  his  will 

Is  of  the  same  opinion  still. — Hudibras. 
(5)  He  is  walking. 

When  the  verb  contains  in  one  word  botli  the  copula 
and  the  thing  asserted,  it  may  easily  be  resolved.  Thus, 
He  sleeps — lie  is  sleeping ;  He  threw — He  was  throwing. 

Fundamental  Law. — Every  sentence  must  contain  at 
least  one  independent  Predicate, 

A  form  of  words  may  contain  several  subjects  and  predicates, 
and  yet  not  be  a  sentence;  as,  **That  he  had  frequently  visited 
the  city  in  which  he  was  bom," — which,  though  containing  two 
distinct  predicates,  is  not  a  sentence.  The  connective  "that" 
implies  the  dependence  of  the  clause  it  introduces  upon  some 
other  clause,  as  "  He  said,"  **  I  have  heard,"  "  It  is  true."  Hence 
the  essential  jjredicate  must  be  independent. 

Exercise  XXII. — Complete  such  of  the  following  ex- 
pressions as  are  not  sentences : 

Erample.  — Here  is  a  design  which  has  never  been  completed. 

A  design  which  has  never  been  completed. 

Tlie  honor  of  having  been  the  first  to  welcome  His  Boyal  High- 
ness. 

T)ie  author  having  suddenly  died,  and  left  his  work  unfinished. 

No  sooner  waa  "William  seated  on  the  throne,  than  seeming  to 
have  lost  all  his  former  poimlarity. 

He  is  taller,  stronger,  wiser. 

That  the  king  was  ignorant  of  the  real  circumstances ;  that  ho 
ha<l  not  examinetl  the  wairant  which  he  had  signed,  and  was  there- 
fore not  responsible  for  the  proceeding. 

The  Prince,  when  he  saw  the  hopelessness  of  his  cause,  tamed 
and  fled. 

The  artist  being  of  opinion  that  a  national  recognition,  through 


Ixiv  TUE  PUEDICATR  [Part  I. 

intelligiblo  symbols,  of  the  great  principles  by  which  the  patriot 
was  actuated  from  first  to  last,  is  the  only  fitting  way  to  do  honor 
to  his  memory. 

For  which  reasons  I  shall  endeavor  to  enliven  morality  with  wit, 
and  to  temper  wit  with  morality. 

The  most  illustrious  benefactors  of  the  race  being  men  who, 
having  risen  to  great  truths,  have  held  them  as  a  saci-ed  trust  for 
their  kind,  and  have  borae  witness  to  them  amidst  general  darkness. 

Seeing  that  the  varnish  of  power  brings  forth  at  once  the  de- 
fects and  the  beauties  of  the  human  portrait. 

How  much  less  in  them  that  dwell  in  houses  of  clay,  whose 
foundation  is  in  the  dust. 

Exercise  XXIIL — Complete  the  following  sentences  by 
finding  four  appropriate  predicates  to  each. 

Example.— The  snow  flies ;  The  snow  falls  ;  The  snow  is  white , 
The  snow  blankets  the  earth. 

Note  IV. — Proper  names  ctnd  xcords  derived  from  them  begin  with 
capiUth. 

Point  out  the  proper  names  on  page  219. 

The  snow—.  The  sea—.  The  tide—.  The  sky—.  The  for- 
tress— .  The  enemy — .  The  prisoners—.  The  lamp — .  The  of- 
fenders— .  The  bells — .  All  men—.  The  earth  itself — .  Diligent 
scholars — .  Men  of  wisdom — .  Sounds  of  music—.  Rei>eated 
want  of  success—.  No  opportunity  of  doing  good — .  The  peace 
of  the  community — .  The  leader  of  the  rebellion — .  The  long- 
expected  friends — .  The  source  of  the  Nile—.  A  large  portion 
of  Central  Africa—.  A  great  number  of  vessels,  unable  to  with- 
stand the  fury  of  the  storm — .  Many  of  the  descriptions  of  travel- 
lers— .  The  veteran  warrior,  rushing  into  the  midst  of  the  battle — . 
The  errors  of  previous  generations — . 

AUXILIARIES. 

Obs.  40. — As  expletives,  do  and  did  should  be 

used  sparingly.     (See  Obs.  92,  page  cxxvi.) 

And  does  not  Soutliey  use  too  often  the  expletives  f/iV/and  does? 
They  have  a  good  effect  at  times,  but  are  too  inconsiderable,  or 
rather  become  blemishes  when  they  mark  a  style.— C.  Lamb. 


Sec.  L]  auxiliaries.  Ixv 

Thus,  As  it  does  not  only,  like  other  pictures,  f/ive  the  color  and 
figure,  but  the  motions  of  things  it  represents. — Addison. 

Pbofeb  Use. — Do  and  did,  as  the  signs  of  the  tenses,  are  fre- 
quently necessary,  and  sometimes  emphatical.  The  idiom  of  the 
language  renders  them  for  the  most  imi-t  necessary  in  negation 
and  interrogation  ;  and  even  in  affirmation  they  are  found  in  cer- 
tain cii'cumstances  to  give  emphasis  to  the  expression.  For  in- 
stance, '•  Did  I  object  to  this  measure  formerly  '?  I  do  object  to  it 
still."  Or,  ♦'  What  I  did  publicly  affimi  then,  I  do  affirm  now,  and 
I  will  affiim  always."  The  contrast  of  the  different  tenses  in 
these  examples  is  more  precisely  marked  by  such  monosyllables 
as  are  intended  singly  to  point  out  that  circumstance,  than  they 
can  be  by  the  bare  inflections  of  the  verb. — Campbell. 

Thus,  No  man  is  so  positive  in  his  prejudices  against  that  of 
which  he  knows  little,  as  the  man  who  is  master  of  a  certain  domain 
of  knowledge,  and  therefore  assumes  to  measure  and  judge  that 
which  he  does  not  by  that  which  he  does  fully  know. — Porter. 

Obs.  41 — The  uses  of  Shall  and  Will  must 
1)0  discriminated. 

(a)  In  Affirmative  Sentences  there  are  two  distinct 
future  tenses,  as  follows  : 


Future  qf  Expectation. 

I  shall  go,  We  shall  go. 
Thou  wilt  go.  You  will  go. 
He  will  go.       They  will  go. 


Future  of  Determination. 

I  will  go.  We  will  go. 

Tliou  shalt  go.  You  shall  go. 
He  shall  go,       Thoy  shall  go. 


Thus,  "  I  shall  be  drowned  ;  nobody  will  help  me,"  is  the  de- 
si)airing  cry  of  a  man  who  expects  to  drown  ;  "  I  will  be  drowned ; 
nolwdy  shall  help  me,"  is  the  cry  of  a  man  determined  to  drown. 

The  radical  signification  of  tcill  (Anglo-Saxon  willan)  is  purpose, 
intention,  determination  ;  tliat  of  ahall  (Anglo-Saxon  scenl,  ought) 
is  obligation.  /  trill  do  means,  I  puri>oae  doing— I  am  determined 
to  do.  /  sh(dl  do  means,  radically,  I  ought  to  do  ;  and  as  a  man 
is  sui)i>OHod  to  do  what  ho  set^s  he  ought  to  do,  /  sliall  do  came 
to  mean,  I  am  about  doing— to  be,  in  fact,  a  mere  announcement 
of  future  action,  more  or  less  remote.  Bnt  so  you  shall  do  means, 
radically,  you  ought  to  do  ;  and  therefore  unless  we  mean  to  im- 
l>08e  an  obligation  or  to  announce  an  action  on  the  part  of  an- 


Ixvi  AUXILIARIES.  [Part  I 

other  person,  over  whom  we  claim  some  coutrol,  shall,  in  si^caking 
of  the  mere  voluntary  future  action  of  another  j)ei-8on,  is  inappro- 
priate; and  we  therefore  say  i/ou  will,  assuming  that  it  is  the 
volition  of  the  other  person  to  do  thus  or  so.  Hence,  in  merely 
announcing  future  action,  we  say,  I  or  we  shall,  you^  he,  or  they 
trill ;  and,  in  declaring  purpose  on  our  own  part,  or  on  the  part  of 
another,  obligation,  or  inevitable  action,  which  we  mean  to  con- 
trol, we  say,  /  or  we  will,  you,  he,  or  they  shall  Official  orders, 
which  are  in  the  form  you  will,  are  but  a  seeming  exception  to 
this  rule  of  speech,  which  they,  in  fact,  illustrate.  For  in  them 
the  courtesy  of  suijerior  to  subordinate,  carried  to  the  extreme 
even  in  giving  command,  avoids  the  semblance  of  compulsion, 
while  it  assumes  obedience  in  its  very  language. — B.  G.  Wurrfl. 

Shall  remain  I 
H«ar  yoa  this  Triton  of  the  minDows?  mark  yoo 
Uis  abHda  e  dhall  1—CoriolcnuM, 

This  child  I  to  myaelf  wiU  take ; 
She  shall  be  mine,  and  I  will  make 
A  ladj  of  my  own. 

The  slan  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 
To  her  ;  and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 
In  many  a  secret  place 

Where  rivulet*  diince  their  wayward  roand,  • 

And  beanty  bom  of  mnrmoring  sound 
Shall  pass  into  her  face.— Wordbwobth. 

Then  wilt  thou  not  be  loth 
To  leaTc  this  Paradise,  but  shalt  posseas 
A  paradise  within  thee.— Miltoh. 

Shall  I,  wasting  in  despair, 

Die  beoanse  a  woman's  fair  ?    .    .    .    . 

If  she  love  me,  then  helieve 

I  will  die  ere  she  shall  grieve. — Wither. 

If  she  hate  me,  then  believe 

She  shall  die  ere  I  will  grieve.— Parody  ofUu  above  by  Be.s  Jonsor. 

Med.  Where  shall  we  dine  to  day  ? 
Dor.  Where  you  will.— Ethkbegx. 

Exercise  XXIY. — Correct  the  use  of  auxiliaries  in  the 
following  sentences : 

Example. — It  is  intended  that  the  army  shall  march  to-morrow. 
It  is  intended  that  the  army  will  march  to-moiTow.    He  says  he 


8«j.  L]  SHALL  AND  WILL.  Ixvii 

shall  be  glad  to  see  you.  He  replies  that  he  shall  be  happy  to 
go.  He  promises  me  it  will  soon  be  ready  to  saiL  We  will 
never  look  on  his  like  again.  I  fear  that  I  will  lose  it.  I  hope 
that  I  will  be  well.  I  believe  that  I  will  catch  cold.  I  hope  I 
will  not  be  missed.  I  fear  we  \^ill  have  rain.  I  will  enjoy  the 
visit.  (Compare  "  We  will  be  satisfied,"  the  cry  of  the  Citizens  to 
Brutus,  meaning  that  they  were  determined  to  have  satisfaction.) 
It  is  requested  that  no  one  will  leave  the  room.  I  think  I  will  be 
contented,  but  I  don't  know. 

As,  besides  the  general  fault  of  prolixity  and  indistinctness, 
this  sentence  contains  several  inaccuracies,  I  will  be  obliged  to 
enter*into  a  minute  discussion  of  it«  stnicture  and  parts. — Blair. 

A  young  men's  Institute  for  Discussion  on  Self-Improvement 
is  reported  in  a  Scottish  provincial  paper  to  have  met  and  dis- 
cussed the  question,  "  Shall  the  material  universe  be  destroyed?  '* 
— Alford. 

I  am  not  able  to  devote  as  much  time  and  attention  to  other 
subjects  as  I  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  doing  next  year. — 
Chalmers. 

I  do  not  expect  that  any  word  of  praise  which  this  work  may 
elicit  shall  ever  be  responded  to  by  me. —  Vestiges  of  Creation. 

We  know  to  what  causes  our  past  reverses  have  been  owing, 
and  we  will  have  ourselves  to  blame  if  they  are  again  incurred. 
— Alison. 

You  must  make  haste  and  gather  me  all  you  can,  and  do  it 
quickly,  or  I  will  and  shall  do  without  it. — Johnson. 

But  I  will  dei)cnd  on  your  coming  over  with  Mr.  Whistler  in 
the  spring.  — Shenstone. 

(b)  In  Interrogative  Sentences,  the  forms  are: 


Future  of  Exf>ertation. 

(Will  I  go?)        (Will  we  go?) 
Shalt  thou  go  ?   Shall  you  go  ? 


Putur*  tif  DetermttiatioH. 
Shall  I  go  ?        Shall  we  go  ? 
Wilt  tliou  go  ?  Will  you  go  ? 


Will  he  go?        Will  they  go?     l     Shall  he  go?    Shall  they  go? 

In  Intbbbooation,  the  auxiliaries  are  ruled  by  the  same  princi- 
ple. "  Shall "  expresses  that  the  subject  is  under  external  influ- 
ence ;  *•  will "  implies  that  the  action  is  entirely  within  the  control 
of  the  subject 


IxN  iii  AUXILIARIES.  [Pabt  I. 

Determination. — The  only  complete  Interrogative  forms  are  those 
expressing  will  or  determination  on  the  part  of  the  second  person. 

**  Will  you  be  this  honest  gentleman's  cupbearer,  or  shall  I  f 
("  Pirate,"  ch.  30).    The  action  is  left  in  the  power  of  the  person 
addressed  :  **  Are  you  willing  to ?  "  "Is  it  youi-  will  or  inclina- 
tion to ?"     There    is   no   pressure    from   without.     On    the 

other  hand,  ** Shall  I?"  indicates  that  the  speaker  is  under  out- 
ward oontrol, — in  this  instance,  the  control  of  the  person  ail- 
dressed.  "  If  you  should  think  fit  not  to  do  the  action,  then  it 
will  fall  to  me ; "  the  action  of  the  s])eaker  is  entirely  dependent 
upon  the  will  of  the  second  person.  So,  •*  Shall  he  ?  "  would  im- 
ply that  the  speaker  expresses  the  action  of  the  |)er8on  *'  he  "  as 
resting  on  the  will  or  control  of  the  second  pei-son. 

Win  yoa  give  thanki.  sweet  Kate  t  or  else  shall  I  f 

••What  shall  we  drink?"  I  submit  my  taste  to  yours;  the 
choice  lies  with  you ;  yours  is  the  determining  voice. 

"  If  we  refuse,  what  shall  we  suflfer?**  Our  fate  depends  on  your 
will  or  determination ;  we  are  in  your  power. 

"  Shall  I  pour  your  honor  out  a  glass  of  sack  to  your  pipe  ?  " 
"  Do,  Trim,"  said  my  uncle  Toby.— Sterne. 

BamUi.    One  word  more,  good  lady. 
Qvesn.    What  shall  I  do  ? 

The  Queeyi  asks  Hamlet, 

What  wilt  thou  do  ?  thoa  wilt  not  murder  me  ? 

There  is  more  than  mere  futurity  here ;  the  Queen  inquires  of 
Hamlet  what  his  own  will  or  resolution  is.  The  action  is  alto- 
gether dependent  on  Hamlet^  who  is  addressed. 

Antony  says  to  the  citizens, 

Shall  I  deeoend  ?  and  will  yoa  glTe  me  leave  ? 

The  orator  professes  to  be  the  humble  servant  of  those  he  ad- 
dresses. 

Shall  our  coffers,  then. 
Be  emptied  to  redeem  a  traitor  home  ? 

The  speaker  puts  it  to  his  hearers  to  say  whether  they  can  rea- 
sonablv  sanction  the  action. 


S«c.  L]  SHALL  AND  WILL.  Ixix 

Shall  he  expire. 
And  unATenged  r 

I  put  it  to  you ;  whether  he  shall  or  shall  not  rests  with  you 
to  decide. 

Hector  is  gone : 
Who  shall  tell  Priam  bo,  or  Hecuba  ? 

What  I  8hall  an  African,  shall  Juba's  heir 
Reproach  great  Cato'a  son  ? 

Ftiturity. — Next  as  to  the  Interrogative  form  available  for  mere 
futurity.  '•  Shall  I  ?  "  is  already  set  apart  for  the  case  where  the 
first  person  acts  under  the  control  of  the  second  person  or  per- 
son addressed.  Still  there  is  no  other  form  for  simple  futurity 
with  the  first  person  as  subject.  **  Will  I?"  is  obviously  impossi- 
ble as  a  direct  question  ;  yet  it  is  the  regular  Scotch  form. 

For  inquiring  as  to  a  future  action  on  the  part  of  the  second 
person,  we  have  to  consider  two  forms.  *^  Shall  you  7^*  would 
naturally  inquire  as  to  the  influence  of  external  circumstances 
upon  '•  you  ;  "  and,  being  not  an  affirmation  but  merely  a  question, 
it  is  not  considered  as  at  all  uncourteous.  '*  Will  you  ?  "  would  be 
the  form  of  courtesy,  were  the  expression  of  this  considered  neces- 
sary or  desirable ;  it  is  a  form,  moreover,  that  is  already  engaged 
to  make  inquiry  as  to  the  second  person's  will  or  determination. 
However,  "Will  you?"  is  used  for  mere  futuiity  side  by  side 
with  ♦•Shall  you?" 

•♦  What  shall  you  do  ?  "  *'  WTiat  tcill  you  do  ?  "  *'  Shall  you  come 
back  to-morrow  ?  " — may  inquire  as  to  the  future  merely.  The 
meaning  is—*'  What  are  you  to  do  ?  "    Are  you  to  come  back  ? 

For  the  third  iHjrson,  ** Shall  he?"  puts  the  action  as  dej^endent 
on  the  second  person,  and  accordingly  must  l>o  set  aside.  Ajiart 
from  this  pre-occupation,  it  might  have  stood  for  simple  futurity : 
the  motive  of  courtesy,  which  caused  the  substitution  of  •♦will" 
in  the  affirmative  form,  has  no  influence  here.  •*  Will  he?"  while 
naturally  inquiring  as  to  "  his  "  will,  inclination,  or  determination, 
is  also  the  form  used  for  the  case  of  mere  futurity.  •♦  WtU  they 
be  present?"  ♦•Who  will  be  next  president?"  express  simple 
futurity :  much  the  same  as  ••  Are  they  to  be  present?"  •♦Who  is 
to  be  next  President?" 

Wm  U  be  dMk  before  yoa  NMb  Um  tower? 


^XX  AUXILIARIBa  fPABT  I. 

What,  wUi  the  M|>iriiig  Mood  of  Laitcsater 
Bliik  in  Um  ground  7— BAn. 

Exercise  XXV. — Correct  the  use  of  auxiliaries  in  the 
following  sentences. 

Example. — Shall  I  put  the  tea  on  ? 

Will  I  put  the  tea  on?  What  will  I  do.  Come,  will  we  go? 
When  will  we  get  tlirough  tliia  book?  Will  we  see  you  again 
soon?  Where  will  I  get  it?  Will  you  prefer  to  accent  it ?  Whiit 
will  you  do  about  it?  Wliere  will  you  be  next  week?  When  will 
you  go? 

Obs.  42.  Would  and  Should  follow  in  general 
the  buiue  rules  as  shall  and  will. 

Thus,  "He  said  he  should  be  drowned;  nobody  would  help 
him."    *•  He  said  he  would  be  drowned ;  nobody  Hhould  help  him.** 

As  to  would  and  shouUl^  it  will  be  found  that,  \\ith  one  excep- 
tion, to  be  remarked  upon  hereafter,  whatever  the  connection  in 
which  they  appear,  they  are  used,  the  former  with  some  implica- 
tion of  will,  the  latter  with  some  implication  of  obligation.  For 
example,  trould^  when  it  expresses  a  habit  or  a  custom,  as,  •*  She 
would  weep  all  day,"  "  He  would  bluster  like  Herod,"  implies  a 
habitual  exercise  of  will.  In  such  phrases  as  *' W^ould  that  it  were 
night !  "  *•  Would  that  it  were  morning !  "  mere  will  or  strong  wish 
is  expressed,  and  would  can  hardly  be  called  an  "  auxiliary"  by  any 
grammarian.  Consequently,  when  will  or  wish  is  expressed  in  any 
other  part  of  the  phrase,  would  becomes  superfluous  and  out  of 
place.  Expressing  willingness,  we  say,  **  I  would  gi-ant  your  re- 
quest ;  **  but  if  we  introduce  willingly  or  with  pleasure^  we  use 
should,  and  say,  "  I  should  willingly,  or  with  pleasure,  grant  your 
request,"  not  "I  would  willingly,"  etc.  In  like  manner  we  say, 
"  I  will  see  you  to-morrow  ;  "  but  if  we  add  an  expression  of  pleas- 
ure, **  I  shall  be  glad,  or  happy,  to  see  you  to-morrow,"  not  **  I  will 
be  glad,"  etc.     .     .     . 

There  is  a  use  of  sJiould  which  can  hardly  be  determined  by  the 
rules,  or  disposed  under  any  one  of  the  heads  above  given.  It 
generally  appeai-s  in  an  impei-sonal  constniction  ;  as,  "It  should 
seem  thus,"  "  Should  it  prove  so."    As  would  conforms  to  willy  and 


Sbc.  I]  WOULD  AND  SHOULD.  Ixxi 

as  we  have  "He  (or  it)  will  seem,"  we  should  expect  "He  would 
seem,"  and  so,  "  It  would  seem."  But  the  best  use  for  centuries  has 
been,  "  It  should  seem,"  "  One  should  think,"  etc.  .  .  .  The 
impersonal  use  of  should  where,  according  to  analogy,  we  should 
look  for  would,  I  shall  not  undertake  to  explain.  ...  To  my 
readere  I  shall  venture  to  say  that  if  they  express  hoping  and  wish- 
ing and  the  like  with  will  and  irould,  and  command,  demand,  and 
mamlatory  desire  with  shall  and  should — for  example,  "I  hope  that 
Mrs.  Unwin  will  invite  them  to  tea  "  and  **I  wish  that  Mi-s.  Unwin 
would  invite  them  to  tea  ; "  but  *'  He  commands  that  Mrs.  Unwin 
shall  invite  them  to  tea,"  and  "  He  desired  that  Mi's.  Unwin  should 
invite  them  to  tea ; "  and,  impersonally,  "  It  is  wished  that  no  per- 
son shall  leave  his  seat,"  and  *'  It  was  requested  that  no  pei-sons 
should  leave  their  seats  " — they  will  not  be  far  fiom  right. — R.  G. 
White. 

Exercise  XXVI. — Correct  the  use  of  auxiliaries  in  the 
following  sentences. 

Rmmple. — It  was  intended  that  the  army  should  march  the  next 
day. 

It  was  intended  that  the  army  would  march  the  next  day. 

(In  like  manner,  throw  the  rest  of  the  short  sentences  in  Exer- 
cise XXrV".  into  the  past  tense,  and  give  the  con-ect  auxiliary.) 

He  recommended  tliat  the  place  would  be  given  to  a  man  that 
should  bo  atH'eptable. 

I  would  be  glad  to  go.  We  would  be  happy  to  see  you.  He 
hastened  to  return,  lest  liis  absence  would  cause  anxiety.  He  was 
afraid  that  he  would  be  burnt.  The  father  was  afraid  his  child 
should  jump  in. 

Had  I  been  thy  son,  I  think  I  would  not  only  have  been  grieved 
on  account  of  that  which  I  hatl  done,  but  also  would  have  regretted 
that  I  had  caused  soitow  in  the  breast  of  him  who  lovetl  mo  so 
tenderly. — Hart's  (ir<immar. 

No  more  than  I  would  l)e  glad  or  content  to  be  in  a  storm. 

Such  a  Protector  we  have  Iiad  as  we  would  have  been  glad  to 
have  changed  for  an  enemy. — Cowley. 

After  a  short  silence  he  told  me  he  did  not  know  how  I  would 
take  what  he  was  going  to  say.— Swift. 


l^xii  AUXILIARIES.  [Pabt  I. 

Had  it  been  otherwise  you  may  be  sure  I  wonld  not  have  pre- 
tended to  liave  g^ven  for  news. — Steblb. 

But  if  we  look  into  the  English  comedies  above  mentioned,  we 
would  think  they  were  formed  upon  quite  a  contrary  maxim. — 
Addison. 

I  would  be  glail  if  Mr.  were,  upon  your  request,  to  give 

his  opinion  of  particulars. — Shenstonk. 

If  this  ]iassion  were  simply  painful,  we  would  shun  with  the 
greatest  care  all  persons  and  places  that  could  excite  such  a  pas- 
sion.—Burke. 

I  would  wish  to  commence  a  new  epoch  in  the  composition  of 
introductory  chapters. — Bubks. 

Obs.  43. — Delicate  Shades  of  meaning  expressed 
by  peculiar  uses  of  aludl,  will,  s/umld,  would,  are  worthy 
careful  attention. 

Shall  por  "Will. — There  is  a  fine  use  of  shaUf  the  force  of  which 
escapes  some  intelligent  and  cultivated  readers.  An  example  is 
found  in  the  following  passage  from  a  number  of  77ie  Spectator, 
written  by  Addison  :  **  There  is  not  a  girl  in  town,  but,  let  her 
have  her  own  will  in  going  to  a  mask,  and  she  shall  dress  like  a 
shepherdess.*'  .  .  .  But  mere  futurity  was  not  what  Addison 
meant  to  express,  nor  did  he  express  a  command.  He  meant  to 
assert  strongly ;  and  therefore,  insteail  of  the  word  will,  which  with 
the  third  person  predicates  simple  futurity,  he  used  shall,  which 
implies  more  or  less  of  obligation — here  a  proi^ensity  so  strong 
as  to  control  action.  ...  An  example  of  this  distinction,  un- 
surpassed in  delicacy  and  exactness,  and  consequent  effect,  is  found 
in  the  follo\s'ing  passage — my  memorandum  of  the  source  of  which 
is  unfortunately  lost — ^and  which  refers  to  the  assassination  of 
President  Lincoln : 

It  justly  fi\8tened  itself  upon  the  rebellion,  and  demanded  new  and  severer  punish- 
inent  for  the  rebels,  instead  of  the  magnanimous  reconciliation  which  the  beloved  Presi- 
Uent,  of  whom  it  had  been  bereaved,  had  recommended.  Who  will  say  that  this  sentiment 
was  nnnatural  ?    Who  shall  say  that  it  is  even  nnjust  ?— R.  O.  White. 

High  and  mighty,  you  shall  know  I  am  set  naked  on  your  king- 
dom.— Hamlet.    "  You  shall  know."    "  You  77iust  know."    **  Let  me 


Src.  I.]  MAY  AND  CAN.  Ixxiii 

tell  you."  Tlie  influence  of  the  speaker  over  the  person  spoken  to 
is  signified  by  shall. — Bain. 

Other  Uses.— "Accidents  will  happen"  is  the  same  as  "Acci- 
dents hapi)en."  The  '*  A^^ill  "  gives  emphasis  by  a  sort  of  personifi- 
cation ;  accidents  take  it  into  their  heads  and  resolve  to  liappen. 

'*  Any  thermometer  will  answer  the  purpose."  This  is  really  the 
expression  of  a  universal  fact,  and  ought  to  be  present,  answers. 
The  use  of  '*  will"  is  dramatic  ;  it  tells  the  person  addressed  to 
take  and  try  any  thermometer,  and  predicts  what  the  result  will 
be. — Bain. 

As  who  Bhoald  nay,  Lo  1  thus  my  strength  is  tied.— Shakbpirb. 

He  desired  I  would  stand  like  a  Colossus,  with  my  legs  as  far 
asunder  as  I  conveniently  could. — Swift. 
8ee  other  illustrations  on  page  58. 

Obs.  44. — May  and  Can.— Mat/,  the  auxiliary  of 
pennission,  must  be  distinguished  from  can,  the  auxiliary  of 
possibility.     Thus,  Who  can  advise,  may  speak. — Milton. 

Exercise  XXYII. — Tell  the  exact  meaning  conveyed  by 
the  auxiliaries- in  the  following  sentences,  making  correc- 
tions where  needed,  and  showing  how  a  change  of  auxil- 
iaries would  alter  the  meaning. 

Example. — "The  knight  said  he  would  have  the  lady,"  would  be 
in  direct  statement,  "The  knight  said,  'I  will  have  her.'"  So, 
**  And  the  dwarf  said  he  would  liave  her,"  corresponds  with  "The 
dwarf  said,  'I  will  have  her.'"  Hence  as  \vTitten,  the  sentence 
means  that  each,  the  knight  and  the  dwarf,  was  determineil  to 
have  the  latly  for  himself.  But  if  the  dwarf  said,  "  You  shall  have 
her,"  meaning  to  aid  the  knight,  then  the  last  half  of  the  sen- 
tence should  reatl,  "and  the  dwarf  stiid  he  should  have  her."  In 
reading,  the  fii-st  meaning  would  retjuire  the  emphasis  on  ?ie;  the 
second  would  require  the  emphaHis  on  should. 

The  knight  said  he  would  have  the  lady,  and  the  dwarf  said  he 
would  have  her. 

If  I  could  tell  you,  I  would.     If  I  luuhl  tt  11  you,  1  i>hould. 

I  hupeil  tboQ  sbould'st  have  been  my  UMOlet's  wife. 


Ixxiv  THE  INDIRECT  OBJECT.  [Part  I. 

You  wonld  not  listen  to  our  advice. 

How  often  would  I  have  gathered  thy  children  together,  .  .  . 
and  ye  would  not  I 

I  believe  soon  I  shall  bear  to  see  nobody.  I  do  hate  all  here- 
abouts already,  except  one  or  two.  I  will  have  my  dinner  brought 
U|X)n  my  table  in  ray  absence,  and  the  plates  fetched  away  in  my 
absence,  and  nobody  shall  see  me. — Shk^stone. 

I  have  an  old  aunt  that  visits  me  sometimes,  whose  conversation 
is  the  perfect  counterpart  *of  them.  She  shall  fetch  a  long-winded 
sigh  with  Dr.  Young,  for  a  wager. — Shenstone. 

The  minister  who  should  propose  it  would  be  liable  to  be 
told,  etc. — Helps. 

THE  INDIRECT  OBJECT. 

An  Indirect  Object  is  required  to  complete  the 
meaning  of  some  verbs.  Tliis  may  be  (I)  a  Noun,  (2)  a 
Pronoun,  (3)  a  Preposition  Phrase,  (4)  a  Con j miction 
Phrase,  (5)  an  Adjective,  (6)  an  Infinitive,  (7)  a  Participle. 

Thus,  (1)  They  made  Cromwell  Protector ;  (2)  I  gave  him  bread ; 
(3)  The  people  counted  him  for  a  prophet ;  (4)  He  named  his  son 
as  his  heir ;  (5)  The  ;jury  found  him  guilty ;  (6)  Tell  him  to  wait ; 
(7)  They  heard  him  walking. 

(1)  The  Noun  is  the  Indirect  Object  proper,  and 
some  verbs  take  this  object  only. 

(6)  The  Infinitive  in  this  use  is  thus  explained  by 
James  Harris : 

It  naturaUy  coalesces  with  all  those  verbs  that  denote  any  Tend- 
ence^  Desire,  or  Volition  of  the  Soul,  but  not  readily  with  others. 

Thus  it  is  sense  as  well  as  syntax,  to  say,  /  desire  to  live  ;  but 
not  to  say,  I  eat  to  lire.  The  reason  is,  that  though  differ eiit  Ac- 
tions may  unite  in  the  same  Subject,  and  therefore  be  coupled  to- 
gether (as  when  we  say,  He  icalked  and  discoursed)  yet  the  Actions 
notwithstanding  remain  separate  and  distinct.  But  it  is  not  so 
with  respect  to  Volitions  and  Actions.  Here  the  coalescence  is  often 
so  intimate,  that  the  Volition  is  unintelligible,   till  tlie  Action  be 


fec.  l]  series  of  infinitives.  Ixxv 

expressed.  I  desire,  lam  willing,  I  want — What  ?  The  sentences, 
we  see,  are  defective  and  imperfect.  We  must  help  them,  then, 
by  Infinitives,  which  express  the  proper  Actions  to  which  they 
tend,  /  desire  to  read,  I  am  willing  to  learn,  I  want  to  see.  Thus  is 
the  whole  rendered  complete,  as  well  in  sentiment  as  in  syntax. — 
Hermes.    See  also  note  from  Gilmore,  on  page  L 

Obs.  46. — A  series  of  infinitives  may  cause  ambiguity 
even  in  a  short  sentence. 

Thus,  "Do  you  intend  to  come  to  help  me  work  or  to  play ? " 
may  have  any  of  the  following  meanings  : 

(1)  Do  you  intend  (to  come  to  help  me  to  work  or  to  play),  or 
do  you  not  intend  to  ? 

(2)  Do  you  intend  to  come  (to  help  me  to  work  or  to  play), 
or  must  I  go  to  you  ? 

(3)  Do  you  intend  to  come  to  help  me  (to  work  or  to  play),  or 
must  I  work  or  play  alone  ? 

(4)  Is  it  to  help  me  that  you  intend  to  come,  or  is  it  in  order 
to  work,  or  to  play  ? 

(5)  Is  it  in  order  to  help  me  to  work  that  you  intend  to  come, 
or  is  it  in  order  to  play  ? 

(6)  Is  it  in  order  to  help  me  to  work  that  you  intend  to  come, 
or  is  it  in  order  to  help  me  to  play  ? 

BesidM  the  abore  distinct  mean.ngR,  tlicre  are  nameroaa  shades  of  difference,  like  the 
following : 

(7)  Do  you  intend  to  come  to  help  me  to  work  or  to  play,  whichever  I  happen  to  be 
doing? 

Obs.  46, — To  distinguish  the  infinitive  of  purpose,  in 
order  Ut  may  be  substituted  for  to^  or  the  infinitive  may 
l>e  changed  to  a  finite  form  introduced  by  that. 

Thus,  to  express  the  third  meaning  in  the  sentence  just  given, 
we  might  say,  "  Do  you  intend  to  come  in  order  to  help  me  ?  "  or 
*'  Do  you  intend  to  come  that  you  may  help  me  ?  " 

ExERcisK  XXVIII.— Point  out  the  ambiguity  in  the 
infinitives  following,  and  reconstruct  the  sentences  so  as 
to  convey  each  meaning  unmistakably. 


Ixxvi  PREDICATE  MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

Example. — "  He  said  he  wished  to  take  his  friend  with  him  to 
visit  the  capital  and  to  study  medicine."  Here  it  is  doubtful 
whether  the  meaning  is 

He  said  that  he  wished  to  take  his  friend  with  him, 

(1)  and  also  to  visit  the  capital  and  study  medicine,  or 

(2)  "that  his  friend  might  visit  the  capital  and  might  also 
study  medicine,"  or 

(3)  "  on  a  visit  to  the  capital,  and  that  he  also  wished  to  study 
medicine. "  —Abbott. 

He  started  to  go  to  try  to  help  him.  To  travel  to  Europe  to 
seek  to  find  how  to  leam  to  live  to  be  comfortable  is  preposterous. 

MODIFIERS  OF  THE  PREDICATE. 

The  Predicate  may  be  modified  by  (1)  Adverbs,  (2) 
Preposition  Phrases,  or  (3)  Participle  Phrases. 

Obs.  47.— Adverbs  must  be  inserted  with  care  to 
distinguish  by  tlieir  position  which  word  tliey  qualify. 

Thus,  Only  the  boy  hit  the  bird ;  the  boy  only  hit  the  bird ; 
the  boy  hit  the  bird  only. 

Exercise  XXIX. — Supply  appropriate  adverbs  to  the 
following  sentences. 

Example. — The  lark  sings  merrily  in  the  clear  heavens. 

The  lark  sings — in  the  clear  heavens.  Assistance  was— given, 
and — received.  The  appearances  of  nature  are — changing.  The 
archer  handled  his  bow — .  The  terrified  animal  rushed — through 
the  arena.  The  orator  declaimed — on  his  favorite  topic.  The 
lady  was — attired.  The  boy  was — warned  of  his  danger.  Men — 
pursue  fortune.  — soared  the  eagle.  Bad  habits  are  too — ac- 
quired. The  moon  shone — .  The  ship  was  driven — .  The  boy 
wrote  his  exercise — .  Eliza  dances—.  Judge  not — of  your  neigh- 
bor. He  acted — to  his  promise.  The  soldiers  were— attached  to 
their  general.     Fortune  does  not — attend  merit. 

Obs.  48. — When  modifying  the  predicate  as  a  whole 
the  adverb  usually  precedes  the  verb ;  or  if  the  verb  is 


I.]  POSITION  OP  THE  ADVERB.  Ixxvii 

composite  usually  comes  between  tlie  parts ;  but  it  must 
not  separate  the  parts  of  the  infinitive. 

Thus,  He  carefully  discriminated ;  He  has  carefully  discrim- 
inated ;  He  tried  carefully  to  discriminate  (not,  to  carefully  dis- 
criminate). 

The  law  of  Priority  rests  upon  certain  distinct  and  important 
considerations.  The  first  is  that,  on  the  most  general  principle  of 
construction,  the  qualification  should  precede  the  thing  qualified. 
In  our  language,  this  is  the  usage  with  the  adjective,  and  to  a 
considerable  extent  with  the  adverb.  Hence,  if  a  qualification  lies 
between  two  words,  and  is  not  specially  excluded  from  the  one 
that  precedes,  the  mere  principle  of  order  would  make  us  refer  it 
to  the  one  that  follows :  we  always  by  preference  look  forward. 

Another  important  circumstance  connected  with  Priority  is  that 
a  qualifying  adjunct  bears  upon  all  that  follows,  until  there  is  a 
break.  It  is  not  simply  the  word  or  phrase  immediately  following, 
but  the  entire  group  of  circumstances  up  to  the  end  of  the  sen- 
tence, or  at  least  to  a  comma  pause. — Bain. 

Obs.  49. — When  emphatic,  the  adverb  follows  the 
verb ;  as,  He  left  the  room  very  slowly. 

When  the  verb  is  a  single  word,  if  the  adverb  precedes  the  verb 
it  will  seem  to  modify  the  entire  predicate,  but  if  it  follows  the 
verb  it  will  often  seem  to  modify  more  especially  the  action. 
Thus,  in  the  sentence,  "  Government  naturally  forms  itself,"  the 
meaning  is  that  it  is  a  natural  thing  for  government  to  form  itself  ; 
while  in  the  sentence,  "Government  forms  itself  naturally,"  the 
meaning  is  that  government  forms  itself  in  a  natural  way.  —Day. 

So  in  "He  very  slowly  left  the  room  "the  emphasis  is  upon 
the /act  of  hia  leaving  ;  in  "  He  left  the  room  very  slowly,"  the 
emphasis  is  niK)n  the  manner  of  his  leaving.  The  following  sen- 
tence from  Huxley  is  therefore  faulty  :  "  We  falsely  pretend  to  be 
the  inheritors  of  their  culture,  .  .  .  imless  we  are  penetrated 
with  an  unhesitating  faith,**  etc. 

Obs.  50. — Though  not  wrongly  placed  as  regards  the 
words  with  which  they  are  immediately  connected,  ad- 


Kxviii  ADVERB  MODIFIERS.  [Part! 

verbs  may  cause  confusion  at  tlie  end  of  a  clause  wlien 
followed  by  another  clause  beginning  with  a  participle. 

Thus,  He  left  the  room  very  simply  repeating  his  determination 
not  to  obey.  Here  ambiguity  should  he  avoided  by  throwing  the 
adverb  back  to  its  unemi)hatic  jwsition  before  the  verb.  Though 
it  may  be  remedied  by  punctimtion  (see  page  294),  it  is  much  bet- 
ter to  make  the  arrangement  clear  in  itself. 

Compare,  They  seized  on  him  suddenly  making  his  way  through 
the  door. 

In  practice  an  adverb  is  often  used  to  qualify  a  remote  word 
where  the  latter  adverb  is  more  emphatic  tlian  any  nearer  word. 
This  is  very  common  where  the  adverbial  motlifier  is  placed  in  an 
emphatic  |X)sition  at  the  l>eginning  of  the  sentence  :  "  On  this  very 
sjiot  our  guide  declared  tliat  Claverhouse  ha<l  fallen." 

Obs.  51  • — When  modifying  a  special  word,  the  ad- 
verb should  be  placed  next  to  it.  (See  examples  on  page 
Ixxxv.) 

Obs.  52. — XoT  must  be  connected  with  precisely  the 
part  of  the  sentence  that  is  denied.  This  may  be  (i)  the 
Subject,  (ii)  the  Predicate,  (iii)  a  Modifier  of  either  sub- 
ject or  predicate. 

Thus,  (i)  No  mention  was  made  of  him ;  (ii)  Mention  was  not 
made  of  him ;  (iii)  Mention  was  made  not  of  him  but  of  his 
brother. 

(I)  Denial  of  the  Subject. — (a)  Universal, 

There  is  a  kind  of  negation  or  denial  that  the  negative  adverb 
does  not  meet,  namely,  unirersial  denial ;  as  may  be  shown  thus. 
For  a  singular  subject — "John,"  "  the  moon"— denial  is  easy  and 
sui'e:  "John  is  not  here,"  *'  the  moon  is  not  \isible."  But  when 
the  subject  is  universal,  the  denial  by  this  form  is  ineffective  : 
**  All  the  men  are  not  here  "  is  not  a  imiversal  denial ;  it  allows  that 
some  men  may  be  here,  it  merely  declares  that  some  at  least  are 
wanting.     In  short  it  is  only  a  paiiial  denial.     If  we  mean  to  neg- 


8bc.  I.]  NEGATION.  Ixxix 

ative  the  presence  of  all  the  men,  to  deny  that  any  man  is  present, 
we  need  some  other  construction.  We  may  attain  the  end  by  find- 
ing a  word  that  is  the  negative  of  the  predicate — *'  all  the  men  are 
absent,"  '*  all  the  heavenly  bodies  are  invisible."  The  more  usual 
way  is  to  prefix  "  no  "  to  the  subject,  thus  :  '' No  men  are  present ; " 
*♦  No  heavenly  bodies  are  visible."  The  negative  by  thus  preceding 
the  noun,  comes  into  the  position  of  the  adjective,  but  we  may 
still  regard  it  as  playing  tlie  part  of  an  adverb. 

This  is  the  type  of  iini rental  denial,  and  it  is  the  most  emphatic 
form  of  negation  to  be  found  in  the  language.  Like  all  our  strong 
effects,  it  is  apt  to  be  abused  by  being  overdone.  *'  He  has  no 
home  "  is  a  sui^rfluous  variety  of  **  he  has  not  a  home,"  which  puts 
the  negative  word  to  its  proper  function. 

Our  plural  noun,  without  "all,"  has  assumed  the  meaning  of 
universality ;  hence  we  obtain  a  universal  denial  by  the  adverb  in 
its  proi>er  place  and  character.  *'  The  men  are  not  present,"  "  the 
stars  are  not  visible,"  **  metals  do  not  occui*  in  the  newer  rocks." 
This  is  the  mild  form  of  universal  denial ;  and,  for  ordinary  pur- 
poses, it  is  quite  sufficient.  The  other  form  should  be  reserved 
for  occasions  where  there  is  need  to  deny  with  energy.  * '  Men 
have  nerer  seen  God,"  is  substantially  a  univei*sal  denial.  The 
strong  form  is  "  No  man  hath  seen  God  at  any  time."  Etpially 
emphatic,  without  any  license,  would  have  been,  **  Never  has  any 
man  seen  God."  The  energy  consists  in  placing  the  negative  word 
first  in  the  clause. 

"  Jfo  mere  man,  since  tho  fall,  U  able  iu  this  life  perfectly  to  keep  the  commandments 
of  God  ;  ^  "  Since  the  fall,  mere  men  are  xnable  in  this  life .'* 

**  yo  golf  balls  coming  over  thew  walls  will  be  returned."     "  Golf  balls will  not 

be  retarned." 

**iVb  d<ig«  admitted,*^  would  be  more  tolerable  in  a  form  common  cnoagh— "  no  €Ut- 
tnUUinc*  to  dogs."  It  would  be  sufficient,  and  therefore  preferable,  to  say—"  Dogs  (are) 
not  admitted." 

"We  shall  get  no  farther  relaxation  of  the  rules;"  '"The  rales  will  not  be  farther 
relaxed  for  us." 

'*  .Vu  degree  of  knowledge  attainable  by  man  is  able  to  set  him  above  the  want  of 
hourly  assistance ;  and.  therefore,  no  man  should  think  it  unnecessary  to  learn  those 
arts  by  which  friendship  may  be  gained."  "  Any  degree  of  knowledge  attainable  by 
man  is  unable  to  sot  him  above  the  need  of  hourly  assistance ;  hence  every  one  should 
think  it  not  unnecessary ." 

"No  knight  in  England  could  match  King  Henry  VIII.  in  the  tournament"  "In 
the  tournament  Henry  was  not  matched  ([was]  unmatched)  by  any  knight  in  England." 

"  1  have  none  in  my  possession."    "  I  do  not  possess  one."— Baix. 


IXXX  ADVERB  MODIFIEliS.  [Part  I. 

OS)  Partial, — An  eri*or  so  common  as  almost  to  be  an 
idiom  substitutes  a  universal  subject  with  a  negative  pred- 
icate for  a  partial  subject  and  a  positive  predicate. 

Tlins,  '*  All  is  not  gold  that  glitters,"  implying  literally  that 
some  is  gold  that  doe«  not  glitter,  has  been  corrected  in  rhetorics 
to  *'  All  that  glitters  is  not  gold."  This  means  literally  that  noth- 
ing that  glitters  is  gold,  or,  in  other  words,  that  gold  never  glitters. 
To  express  what  the  proverb  intends,  we  most  say  "  Not  all  that 
glitters  is  gold." 

Campbell  says : 

**  In  negatioiu  it  holds  very  geneimlly  that  the  negmtive  particie  Bhoald  be  joined  to 
the  verb.  Tet  in  aome  oaa«  the  agpr—ion  is  graatly  aoUvcoed  and  oonaeqaenUy  the 
denial  appean  more  dwtarmliiate  hj  beginninK  the  sentence  with  the  adverb.  *  Not 
every  one/  aayi  oar  Savionr,  *  that  laith  nnto  me.  Lord.  Lord,  sltall  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  bnt  he  that  doeth  the  will  of  my  father  who  is  in  heaven.'  Vary  the 
position  of  the  negative  in  the  flrrt  member,  and  say,  '  Ever}-  one  that  saith  unto  me 
Lord,  Lord,  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,'  and  you  will  flatten  Ihe  ex|Hea- 
■ioo  exceedingly.  On  so  slight  a  circumstance  in  the  arrangement  does  the  energy  of  a 
sentence  sometime*  depend."— AAetorfc.-,  ii.  311. 

Here  it  is  assumed  that  **  Not  every  one shall  enter"  is  the 

same  statement  as  **  Every  one shall  not  enter,"  while  the 

meaning  is  widely  different. 

Find  errors  of  this  kind  on  pages  1,  42. 

(II)  Denial  of  the  Predicate, — This  is  the  most  common 
form  of  negative  sentences,  and  should  be  used  whenever 
the  emphasis  is  not  upon  a  particular  part  of  the  sentence. 

Thus,  "No  wonder,  then,  that  one  likes  not  to  be  ridiculed  or 
laughed  at." — Campbell.  This  would  imply  that  "not  to  be  ridi- 
culed "  was  a  certain  positive  state  or  condition,  like  "  not  to  be 
penniless,"  which  is  another  form  for  "  having  some  money  about 
him."  But  the  thought  in  mind  is  not  of  "not  being  ridiculed," 
bnt  of  "being  ridiculed,"  and  the  assertion  intended  is,  not  that 
one  does  like  "  not  being  ridiculed,"  but  that  one  does  not  like 
•'  being  ridiculed."  Hence  the  sentence  should  read,  "No  wonder, 
then,  that  one  does  not  like  to  be  ridiculed." 

Again,  "In  this  book,  as  in  its  predecessors,  the  author  has 
aimed  at  being  neither  brilliant  nor  profound." — J.  G.  Holland, 


Sec.  I.]  NEGATION.  Ixxxi 

Mr.  Holland  would  have  expressed  what  he  does  say,  only  with 
more  strength,  had  he  said,  ' '  The  author  has  aimed  at  being  stupid 
and  silly."  What  he  meant  to  say  was,  not  that  he  Juid  aimed  not 
to  be  brilliant,  but  that  he  had  not  aimed  to  be  brilliant.  The  sen- 
tence should  have  read,  "In  this  book,  as  in  its  predecessors,  the 
author  has  not  aimed  at  being  either  biilliant  or  profound." 

Sometimes  care  in  arrangement  is  needed  to  prevent  ambiguity. 
Thus,  '*  The  cure  for  drunkenness  is  not  to  be  ascetic."  Here  the 
not  is  intendetl  to  motlify  the  verb,  but  may  easily  be  taken  to 
modify  the  last  throe  words.  The  first  meaning  would  be  ex- 
pressed by  saying,  "  To  be  ascetic  is  not  the  cure  for  dninkenness ; " 
the  second  by  saying,  *•  Not  to  be  ascetic  is  the  cure  for  drunken- 


(III)  Denial  of  a  Modifier. — Here  also  errors  are  fre- 
quent. 

Thus,  "  No  allusion  is  meant  or  made  to  their  face,  but  to  their 
race." — R.  G.  Whfte.  Here  the  connecting  of  the  negative  with 
the  subject  makes  a  universal  negative, — there  was  no  allusion  at 
all.  But  the  last  clause  shows  that  there  was  an  allusion,  only  it 
was  not  to  their  face,  but  to  their  race.  The  sentence  should 
therefore  read,  "Allusion  was  meant  and  made  not  to  their  face, 
but  to  their  race." 

Again,  even  Abbott,  in  his  "  How  to  Write  Clearly,"  puts  in 
hea>'y  tyjw  the  following  useful  rule  :  **  In  all  styles,  especially  in 
letter-writing,  a  final  emphasis  must  not  be  so  frequent  as  to  be- 
come obtrusive  and  monotonous."  What  he  means  is,  '*  Not  in  any 
style,  especially  in  letter- writing,  must  a  final  emphasis ,"  etc. 

Negative  Prefixes. — It  should  be  remarked  that  the 
prefixes  un-,  in-,  etc.,  do  not,  as  "  not "  does,  extend  over  a 
conjunction  to  the  next  adjective,  making  it  negative. 

Thus,  It  was  not  safe  or  secure,  means  that  it  was  not  safe  and 
not  secure,  but  It  was  unsafe  or  secure,  means  that  though  not 
safe  it  was  secure— an  absurdity  ;  though  we  might  say  It  was  un- 
moved or  steadfast.     Hence  the  error  in  the  following  sentence  : 

Began  and  Goneril  aie  the  only  pictures  of  the  unnatural  in 


Ixxxii  ADVERB  MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

Shakspere ;  the  pure  nnnatiiral — and  you  will  observe  that  Shak- 
spere  has  left  their  hideousness  urasof teued  or  diversified  by  a  single 
line  of  goodness  or  common  human  frailty. — Coleridoe. 

Exercise  XXX. — Transfer  the  negation  so  as  to  bring 
out  tlie  meaning  intended  in  the  following  sentences,  ex- 
plaining just  what  is  meant  by  the  words  as  they  stand, 
and  how  the  meaning  is  changed. 

Example. — As  written  the  statement  is  that  all  of  them  are  in- 
applicable, while  the  meaning  of  the  author  is  that  some  are  ap- 
plicable and  some  are  not.  Hence  the  predicate  should  be  made 
positive,  and  the  subject  jiartial.  *'  Not  all  the  rules  of  Latin  syn- 
tax can  l>e  ap))licd  to  our  language.'* 

All  the  rules  of  Latin  syntax,  it  is  true,  cannot  be  applied  to  our 
language.  — Blaik. 

Everything  favored  by  good  use  is  not  on  that  account  to  be  re- 
gained. — Campbell. 

But  it  ought  carefully  to  be  noted  that  every  address,  even 
every  pertinent  address  to  contempt,  is  not  humorous. — Campbell. 

The  result  is  not  pleasant  to  us  only  because  it  fulfils  our 
predictions,  but  because  any  other  would  have  been  productive  of 
infinite  mischief. —  The  Spectator, 

Mr.  Ris  was  not  happy  because  Nature  had  ordained  it  so  before- 
hand ;    ...     he  was  happy  because,  etc. 

No  essay  should  terminate  very  abruptly,  nor  too  gradually. — 
Parker's  Hcercises  in  English  Composition. 

Obs.  53. — Double  negatives  in  English  no  longer  con- 
vey a  negative  sense. 

In  Anglo-Saxon,  two  negatives  strengthened  the  negation,  as  in 
Greek.   Even  in  Shakspere  we  find  many  illustrations  of  this  use. 

I  never  was,  nor  never  will  be  false. 
The  man  that  hath  no  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils. 

This  England  never  did,  nor  never  shall 

Lie  at  the  proud  foot  of  a  conqueror. 


Sbc.  I.]  NEGATION.  Ixxxiii 

Thackeray  thus  reproduces  in  a  novel  of  the  age  of  Queen  Anne 
a  usage  then  common : 

And  then  she  said  that  wc  mast  leave  directly,  and  abased  my  mamma,— who  was 
oognizant  of  the  basiness;  bat  she  wasn't  never  thinkinR  of  anything  but  father.— 
E$mond. 

*•  Wasn't  never  "  and  similar  expressions  are  now  expected  only 
from  the  quite  illiterate,  but  more  subtle  blunders  are  still  not 
uncommon. 

Exercise  XXXI. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — ** any  more  than  velocity,"  etc. 

Popularity  alone,  therefore,  is  no  test  at  all  of  the  eloquence  of 
the  speaker,  no  more  than  velocity  alone  could  be  of  the  force 
of  the  external  impulse  originally  given  to  the  body  moving. — 
Campbell. 

I  won't  never  see  you  no  more  at  no  time. 

He  couldn't  throw  it  over,  no  more  than  as  if  it  had  weighed  a 
ton. 

Obs.  54. — Negative  sentences  can  be  made  affirma- 
tive in  form  by  substituting  a  negative  or  obveree  of  the 
predicate. 

Thus,  *•  They  are  not  here  " — "  They  are  gone  elsewhere  ;  "  "No 
man  is  perfect " — "  All  men  are  imperfect ;  "  "  Matter  is  not  self- 
moved" —  "  Matter  is  moved  from  without." 

This  is  an  oi)eration  of  great  significance  in  logic,  and  not  with- 
out importance  in  grammar  ;  it  is  the  mode  of  giving  the  reality 
apart  from  the  form  of  negation,  and  should  be  familiar  to  those 
that  are  tracking  out  the  varieties  of  English  expression.  General 
Uavelock  addressed  the  Indian  army  in  these  terms  : 

Soldiers,  yoar  labors,  yonr  priYation^  yonr  sufferings,  your  valor,  will  not  be  forgotten 
(will  be  reoiembered)  by  a  grateful  country. 

Tlie  negative  form  is  hero  chosen  for  emphasis  ;  it  is  the  case 
that  ])eople  are  in  a  more  energetic  mood  when  denying  than  when 
affirming ;  denial  implies  an  opponent  to  fight ;  afiirmation  not 
necessarily  so. — Bain. 


Ixxxiv  ADVERB  MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

Exercise  XXXII. — Transform  the  following  negative 
into  affirmative,  and  the  following  affirmative  into  nega- 
tive sentences. 

Example. — I  fail  to  nnderstand  jou. 

I  do  not  nnderstand  you. 

She  acted  unbecomingly. 

He  did  not  see  through  it  accurately. 

The  cars  never  swerved  from  the  track. 

Obs.  56. — Only  should  generally  l>e  placed  before  the 
word  it  is  meant  to  qualify.  But  it  should  not  separate 
two  emphatic  words,  or  be  used  where  alofie  can  be  substi- 
tuted. 

Thus,  not  •*  Only  CaBsar  came,**  where  the  moaning  is,  "Caesar 
came  alone."  If  the  meaning  is,  "Nobody  but  Ciesar  came,"  or 
*' Nobody  of  any  more  consequence  than  Csesar  came,"  with  a 
somewhat  contemptuous  fling  at  Ctesar's  lack  of  importance,  then 
**  Only  Caesar  came,"  would  be  correct. 

On  Postal  Cards.  — The  diflSculty  of  properly  placing  the  word 
only  is  shown  in  the  history  of  the  inscription  on  postal  cards, 
which  has  been  thus  given  : 

The  direction  at  flntt  was,  "  Write  the  address  only  on  this  side."  If  onlv  is  read  in 
oonnectioD  with  oddrvM,  as  intended,  the  meaning  is  clear :  but  if  read  in  cmnection 
with  on  thi*  aide,  it  becomes  ridiculoufs  for  nobody  would  write  the  address  on  both  sides. 

Then  :  "  Write  the  address  on  this  f^iiie — the  message  on  the  other/'  Bat  this  seemed 
unnecessary,  for  any  one  accnstomed  to  writing  letters  would  put  the  address  upon  the 
same  side  with  the  stamp. 

Finally :  "  Nothing  but  the  address  can  be  placed  on  this  side.""  Of  this  it  has  been 
well  remarked  that  the  average  school -boy  knows  better.  He  "  can  "  place  a  good  deal 
more  than  the  address  on  that  side,  and  he  concludes  that  the  authors  of  that  statement 
hrnl  a  more  varied  ability  than  the  boy  who  oooldn't  tell  a  lie,  for  they  have  demonstrated 
that  they  can.    (See  page  Ixxiii.) 

Better  :  "Place  on  this  side  nothing  but  the  address." 

At  the  beginning  of  a  serUence^  only  is  equivalent  to  but,  as,  "I 
don't  like  to  importune  you,  only  I  know  you'll  forgive  me."  This 
may  lead  to  ambiguity,  as,  **  Help  youi-self  to  these  oranges,  only 
a  dozen  were  eaten  yesterday."  According  as  one  has  a  basket  of 
oranges  or  a  box,  this  may  mean,  I  want  to  be  generous,  but  you 
must  remember  that  a  dozen  are  gone  already :  or,  I  am  afraid 


Bkc.  L]  ''ONLY."  Ixxxv 

they  will  not  all  be  eaten ;  no  more  than  a  dozen  are  gone  so  far. 
In  conversation  the  doubt  would  be  removed  by  the  emphasis,  but 
in  a  letter  it  might  lead  to  unfortunate  mistakes. 

The  location  of  an  adverb  is  one  of  the  most  perplexing  details 
of  composition.  One  must  have  a  very  well-trained  and  quick 
taste  to  decide  upon  it  intuitively  with  uniform  accuracy.  Take, 
for  example,  the  word  "  only,"  which  is  sometimes  adverbial,  and 
sometimes  adjective,  in  its  qualifying  force.  I  select  from  Gib- 
bon's History  a  sentence  of  moderate  length,  which  contains  the 
word.  Observe  how  many  distinct  meanings  may  be  obtained  l)y 
simply  sliding  it  gradually  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the 
sentence. 

First, 

Only  they  forgot  to  observe,  that,  in  the  first  ages  of  society,  a  successful  war  against 
Mtvage  animals  is  one  of  the  most  beneficial  labors  of  heroism  ; 

that  is,  they  did  some  things  well,  but  one  thing  not  well — they 
forgot  to  observe,  etc. 
Secondly, 

They  only  forgot  to  observe,  etc. ; 

that  is,  either  they  were  the  only  persons  who  did  so  ;  or,  thirdly, 
they  did  not  intentionally  neglect  the  fact,  they  only  forgot  it. 
Fourthly, 

They  forgot  to  observe  that  only  in  the  Jtrst  ages  of  society  ; 

that  is,  there  is  but  one  period  in  the  history  of  society  in  which 
the  fact  observed  is  true. 
Fifthly, 

They  forgot  to  observe  that,  in  the  fint  agen  only  of  tocMy,  etc.; 

that  is,  it  is  not  true  in  the  ages  preceding  organized  social  life. 
Sixthly, 

They  forgot  U>  obwrvc,  that,  in  the  first  ages  of  aodeij,  only  a  jtmccm^/W  war  against 
■avago  animaK  etc. ; 

that  is,  not  war  which  is  a  failure. 
Seventhly, 

They  forgoi  to  otMenre,  that,  in  the  first  agee  of  aodety,  a  wiooMiful  war  only  aotUnu 
■avage  animals,  cto.; 

that  iBf  not  a  war  for  their  preservation. 


Ixxxvi  ADVERB  MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

Eighthly, 

They  forgot  to  obaerve,  that,  iu  the  flint  ages  of  iiooiety,  araooeKfol  war  against  only 
tttvage  animals,  etc  ; 

that  is,  not  a  war  against  animals  of  domestic  use. 
Ninthly, 

They  forgot  to  obscnre,  etc.,  war  against  savage  animals  is  only  one  of  the  most  bene- 
ficial labors ; 

that  is,  there  are  other  snch  labors  of  heroism. 
Tenthly, 

They  forgot  to  obeenre,  eta,  a  Hiooestfii]  war  against  savage  animals  is  one  of  only 
the  mott  beneficial  labors  of  herolRm ; 

that  is,  it  is  not  to  be  deemed  a  labor  of  inferior  worth  ;  or. 
Eleventhly, 

They  forgot  to  observe,  etc.,  that  sach  a  war  Is  one  of  only  the  moist  beneficial  labor* 
of  heroism ; 

that  is,  it  is  not  to  be  regai-ded  as  a  pastime. 
Twelfthly, 

They  forgot  to  observe,  that,  etc.,  is  one  of  the  most  beneficial  labors  of  herottni  only ; 

that  is,  no  virtue  inferior  to  heroism  is  competent  to  the  task. 

Here  are  no  less  than  twelve  distinct  shades  of  thought,  not  all 
of  them  elegantly,  not  all  precisely,  but  all  perspicuously  ex- 
pressed, with  the  aid  of  emphasis  in  the  reading,  by  simply  slid- 
ing one  word  from  point  to  jioint  from  the  beginning  to  the  end 
of  a  sentence  of  twenty -four  words.— Phelps. 

Carelessness. — The  fact  is,  with  respect  to  such  adverbs  as  otili/, 
whoUy,  at  leasts  and  the  rest  of  that  tribe,  that  in  common  discourse 
the  tone  and  emphasis  we  use  in  pronouncing  them  generally 
serves  to  show  their  reference,  and  to  make  the  meaning  clear ; 
and  hence  we  acquire  the  habit  of  throwing  them  in  loosely  in  the 
course  of  a  period.  But  in  writing,  where  a  man  speaks  to  the  eye 
and  not  to  the  ear,  he  ought  to  be  more  accurate,  and  so  to  con- 
nect those  adverbs  with  the  words  which  they  qualify  as  to  put  his 
meaning  out  of  doubt  upon  the  first  inspection. — Blair. 

People  who  have  practised  composition  as  much  and  with  as 
vigilant  an  eye  as  myself  know  also,  by  thousands  of  cases,  how 


Skc.  I.]  "ONLY;"   "AS"  AND   "SO."  Ixxxvii 

infinite  is  the  disturbance  caused  in  the  logic  of  a  thought  by  the 
mere  position  of  a  word  so  despicable  as  the  word  "  even."     .     . 
The  station  of  a  syllable  may  cloud  the  judgment  of  a  council. 
-De  Quincey. 

Exercise  XXXIII. — Change  the  following  sentences  so 
as  to  convey  the  meaning  intended. 

Example. — I  shall  give  only  one  sentence  more  on  this  head. 

I  shall  only  give  one  sentence  more  on  this  head. — Blair. 

But  though  we  were  ten  days  in  Naples  I  only  saw  one  quarrel. 
— HowtelijS. 

A  style  of  writing  "which,"  as  Junius  said  of  the  character  of 
Sir  William  Draper,  "  will  only  pass  without  censure  when  it  passes 
without  observation. " — Moon. 

Existing  laws  on  the  subject  of  insanity  are  mainly  judicial, 
legislatures  not  having  been  able  to  formulate  a  statute  on  the 
question,  only  in  the  most  vague  and  indefinite  manner. — N.  A. 
Jietieic.  (Here  either  not  should  be  omitted,  or  only  should  be- 
come except.) 

He  could  only  live  in  agitation ;  he  could  only  breathe  in  a 
volcanic  atmosphere. — Alison. 

Wlien  Napoleon's  system  of  government  became  unfortunate 
alone,  it  was  felt  to  be  insupportable. — Alison. 

Obs.  56. — As  and  So  are  frequently  misused. 

After  Negatives. — In  the  best  usage,  so  is  used  after  a  negative 
in  preference  to  as  ;  thus,  "  I  like  him  as  well,  but  I  do  not  like 
her  so  well."  The  negative  may  be  only  implied  ;  as,  "  There  are 
few  that  could  do  so  much,"  which  is  equivalent  -to  "  Tliere  are 
not  many  that .* 

Art  may,  in  the  execution,  be  as  polished  and  delicate  as  na- 
ture ;  but  in  the  design  can  never  show  herself  so  august  and 
magnificent— Bl  UK. 

Mistaken  firr  ConjunctwDR. — Care  must  be  taken  to 
avoid  the  ambiguity  of  ]dacing^/^f  where  it  might  be  either 
an  adverb  or  a  conjunction. 


Ixxxvii/  ADVERB   MODIFIERS.  [Pabt  I. 

Thus,  "  For  though  they  may  appear  as  l)eautifnl  or  strange." 
— Addison.  Here  the  meaning  may  be  that  they  api)ear  as  beauti- 
ful or  as  strange  as  something  else  appears ;  or  that  they  appear 
as  beautiful  or  strange,  and  not  as  commonplace  or  familiar. 

Exercise  XXXIV. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — I  did  not  think  it  so  bad  as  that. 

I  did  not  think  it  as  bad  as  that. 

I  have  been  as  idle  since,  but  never  as  happy. — Esmond, 

He  was  not  as  prosperous  or  as  contented. 

She  seemed  as  intelligent. 

Obs.  57.  — At  Least  is  a  phrase  often  nsed  am- 
biguously. 

Thus,  *'  I  think  you  will  find  my  Latin  exercises  at  least  as  good 
as  my  cousin's."  Does  this  mean  (1)  "  my  Latin  exercises,  though 
not  perhaps  my  other  exercises,"  or  (2)  **  tliough  not  very  good, 
at  least  as  gootl  as  my  cousin's?"  Write  for  (1)  **  At  least  my 
Latin  exercises  you  will  find;"  for  (2)  "I  think  you  will  find 
my  Latin  exercises  as  good  as  my  cousin's,  at  least." — Abbott. 

(2)  Preposition  Phrases.     (See  page  1.) 

(3)  The  Participle  Phrase,  when  modifying  the 
predicate,  as  when  modifying  the  subject,  is  often  a  source 
of  ambiguity  unless  carefully  placed.     Thus : 

A  Senior  distinguished  himself  yesterday  by  killing  a  huge  rat 
while  sunning  himself  in  the  gutter  on  Lake  Street. 

Rev.  Dr.  Hands,  sir,  ha^'ing  been  elected  president  by  the  unani- 
mous vote  of  the  boards  of  trustees  and  overseers  of  Bowdoin  Col- 
lege, I  come  on  their  behalf  to  induct  you,  etc. — Quoted  by 
Phelps. 

Don't  repeat  anecdotes,  good  or  bad.  A  very  good  thing  be- 
comes foolishness  after  hearing  it  several  times. — Don't ;  a  Manual 
of  Mistakes. 

Few  need  to  be  infoi-med  that  one  Herod  caused  to  be  slaugh- 
tered the  babes  of  Bethlehem,  commonly  called  '*  The  Slaughter 
of  the  Innocents." — Popular  Rhetoric. 


Ssa  L]  ARRANGEMENT  OF  PHRASES.  Ixxxix 

Found— Evidently  by  mistake  a  package  was  put  in  my  carriage  while  standing  in 
Fayetto  Street,  supposing  it  was  left  by  my  wife,  but  found  it  was  not  ours.  The  owner 
can  have  the  same  by  calling  at  No.  ti  Saboy  Place  and  proving  property  and  paying  for 
this  advertisement.    John  Raynor. 

Arrangement  of  Phrases. 

An  Absolute  Phrase  should  stand  at  the  beginning 
of  the  sentence ;  as,  The  king  being  dead,  a  dispute  arose 
as  to  the  succession. 

Note  V. — The  absoltUe  phrase  is  set  off  from  tlie  rest  of  the  sen^ 
tetice  by  a  commtt. 

Obs.  58. — Priority  among  adverbial  modifiers  fol- 
lows the  general  order  of  first  those  of  Time,  then  those  of 
Place,  last  those  of  Manner. 

Thus,  "  MaiTied,  Sept.  8,  1883,  in  Syracuse,  N.  Y.,  by  the  Rev. 
S.  S.  Smitli,  Henry  K.  Wilkes  and  Emma  F.  Lane," 

The  law  of  PRioRrrY  rests  upon  certain  distinct  and  important 
considerations.  The  first  is  that,  on  the  most  general  principle  of 
constraction,  the  qualification  should  precede  the  thing  qualified. 
In  our  language,  this  is  the  usage  with  the  adjective,  and  to  a  con- 
siderable extent  with  the  adverb.  Hence,  if  a  qualification  lies  be- 
tween two  words,  and  is  not  specially  excluded  from  the  one  that 
precedes,  the  mere  i)rinciple  of  Order  would  make  us  refer  it  to  the 
one  that  follows ;  we  always  by  preference  look  forward. 

Another  important  circumstance  connected  with  Priority  is  that 
a  qualifying  adjunct  bears  upon  all  that  follows,  until  there  is  a 
break.  It  is  not  simply  the  word  or  phi*ase  immediately  following, 
but  the  entire  group  of  circimistances  up  to  the  end  of  the  sen- 
tence, or  at  least  to  a  comma  jmuse.  — Bain. 

In  poetry,  and  occasionally  in  impassioned  prose,  a  series 
of  adverbial  modifiers  may  be  accumulated  before  the 
verb;  as, 

High  on  a  throne  of  myal  utate  which  far 
OutRhone  the  wealth  of  Orniiis  and  of  Iiul. 
Or  where  the  gorgeous  Fjwt  with  richcMit  hand 
Shnweni  on  >ier  kingH  barbaric-  goUi  an<l  pearl, 
Satau  exaltetl  t%t.— I'aradine  Lost. 


XC  ADVERB  MODIFIERS.  [Part  I. 

Deep  in  the  ahadj  eedneu  of  e  vale. 

Far  eonken  from  the  healthy  breath  of  mom. 

Par  from  the  flerj  ran  and  eve's  one  itar. 

Sat  gray-haired  Satom,  quiet  as  a  stone. — HyptrUm, 

Sometimes  the  sentences  are  beyond  cnre  by  mere  re- 
arrangement, and  demand  rebuilding  witli  new  materials. 

A  new  stone  building  has  been  erected  at  an  expense  of  $1,200 
so  as  to  divide  the  inmates  into  comjxirtments. 

After  ])artaking  of  a  hearty  breakfast,  the  balloon  was  brought 
into  to^Ti  amidst  the  cheers  of  the  inhabitants. — Quoted  by  Alford. 

Obs.  59. — Usually  adverbial  elements  should  be  scat- 
tered, to  make  the  sentence  flow  without  pauses. 

Thus,  Helps  describes  a  river  as  *'  flowing  with  equable  current 
busily  by  great  towns."  He  might  have  said,  "with  equable  cur- 
rent flowing  busily  by  g^eat  towns.** 

When  the  number  of  circumstances  and  qualifications  to  be  in- 
cluded in  the  sentence  is  great,  the  most  judicious  course  is  neither 
to  enumerate  them  all  before  introducing  the  idea  to  which  they 
belong,  nor  to  put  this  idea  first  and  let  it  be  remodelled  to  agree 
with  the  particulars  afterward  mentioned;  but  to  do  a  little  of 
each.  Take  a  case.  It  is  desirable  to  avoid  so  extremely  direct 
an  arrangement  as  the'  following : 

We  came  to  our  journey's  end.  at  last,  with  no  amall  difficult}',  after  much  fatigue, 
through  deep  nmdft,  and  bad  weather. 

Yet,  to  transform  this  into  an  entirely  indirect  sentence  would 
not  produce  a  satisfactory  eflfect ;  as  witness : 

At  last,  with  no  small  difficulty,  after  much  fatigue,  through  deep  roads,  and  bad 
weather,  we  came  to  our  journey's  end. 

Dr.  Whately,  from  whom  we  quote  the  first  of  these  two  arrange- 
ments, proposes  this  construction : 

At  last,  after  much  fatigue,  through  deep  roads  and  bad  weather,  we  came,  with  no 
small  difficulty,  to  our  journey's  end. 

Here  it  will  be  observed  that  by  introducing  the  words  "we 
came  "  a  little  earlier  in  the  sentence,  the  labor  of  carrying  foi-ward 
so  many  particulai-s  is  diminished,  and  the  subsequent  qualification 


Skc.  I.  J       ARRANGEMENT  OF  PHRASES.  xci 

**  with  no  small  difficulty"  entails  an  addition  to  the  thought  that 
is  very  easily  made.  But  a  further  improvement  may  be  produced 
by  introducing  the  words  "  we  came  "  still  earlier  ;  especially  if  at 
the  same  time  the  qualifications  be  rearranged  in  conformity  with 
the  principle  already  explained,  that  the  more  abstract  elements  of 
the  thought  should  come  before  the  more  concrete.  Observe  the 
better  effect  obtained  by  making  these  two  changes: 

At  last,  with  no  small  lUfflculty,  and  after  much  fatigue,  wc  came,  through  deep  roads 
and  bad  weather,  to  our  journey'*  end. 

This  reads  with  comparative  smoothness ;  that  is,  with  less  liin- 
drance  from  suspensions  and  reconstructions  of  thought — with  less 
mental  effort. — Heriiert  Spencer.     (See  also  ^mges  277,  278.) 

Obs.  60. — In  placing  or  scattering  adverbial  phrases, 
care  must  be  taken  not  to  separate  the  modifier  so  far  from 
the  word  modified  as  to  produce  ambiguity. 

Exercise  XXXY. — Correct  the  use  of  modifiers  in  the 
following  sentences  (see  also  those  on  page  lix). 

Sxatnple.—lLome  onoc  more  ruled  over  the  prostrate  nations  by  the  power  oj  tuper- 
atlUon. 

Thi8  may  mean  either  of  two  things— (1)  that  Rome  had  at  a  former  time  ruled  over 
the  nations  "  by  the  power  of  fuperstltion,"  and  now  reHumol  that  iMiwer ;  (2)  that  Rome 
had  formerly  ruled  over  the  nations  by  some  other  jwwer — that  of  tonqucBt,  or  of  impe- 
rial influence — and  now  did  so  by  a  different  iwwer,  that  of  superstition.  The  sentence, 
as  it  stands,  moHt  naturally  bears  the  former  O'nstructton.  To  convey  the  latter  mean- 
ing It  should  stand  thus;  "  Rome,  by  the  i>ower  of  superstition,  once  more  ruled  over 
the  prostrate  nations. " 

Martha  Qrant  attempted  to  force  the  collection  of  twenty-flvo  centa  from  Sally  Jones 
for  making  a  dreas  by  the  use  of  an  axe  and  a  raior. 

Bncted  to  the  memory  of  John  Phillips,  accidentally  shot  as  a  mark  of  affection  by 
his  brother. 

Wc  should  be  employed  in  doing  good  to  our  fellow-men  daily. 

The  highwaynuw  not  only  robbed  the  gentleman,  but  even  the  lady. 

Man  not  only  desires  to  be  loved,  bnt  to  be  lovely. 

The  Romans  understood  liberty  at  least  as  well  aa  we. 

We  admit  oar  total  inability  to  remedy  the  evil  sorrowfully. 

To  man  has  been  given  the  power  of  speech  only. 

The  memoirs  of  his  father  HufRciently  appear  to  repel  those  acciuatlofia. 

They  are  men  who  nobly  know  how  to  die. 

He  almoKt  found  fanlt  with  every  one,  at  all  events  of  the  poeCs  minor  pieoea. 

Philosophers  have  bti>n  at  a  Ioms,  to  explain  always  the  aeeret  of  the  strange  power, 
which  patriotic  tunes  exercise  over  the  armies  of  i 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Composition,  p  xvii. 
The  Subject,  i».  xvii. 

Ex.  1.- Supply  subject*,  p.  xviii. 
Obs   1.  -  rofiitiou  of  subject,  p.  xiz. 
Obfl.  2. — Position  varied  for  empbasis,  p.  zx. 
Obs.  3.— Precision,  p.  xxi. 

Ex.  II.— Putting  predicate  before  subject,  p.  xxiii. 
Ex.  III. — Variation  for  emphasis,  p.  xxiii. 
Obs.  4.  —Summarizing  a  long  subject,  p.  xxiv. 
The  Object,  p.  xxiv. 

Ex.  IV. — Supply  objects,  p.  xxiv. 
Obs.  5. — Verbal  nouns  to  be  avoided,  p.  xxiv. 

Ex.  V. — Verbal  nouns  changed  to  phrases,  p.  xxiv. 
Modifiers  of  Subject  and  Object,  p.  xxv. 
ADJECTIVES,  p.  xxv. 
Desc'RIITIVK,  p.  xxv. 

Ex.  VI. — Supplying  adjectives,  p.  xxv. 
Obs.  6. — Fitting  adjectives,  p.  xxvi. 

Ex.  VII. — Substituting  fit  adjectives,  p   xxvii. 
Forms  in  Oomparimmy  p.  xxviii. 

Obs.  7. — Comparative  degree,  when  applicable,  p.  xxviii 
Oba.  8. — Superlative  degree,  when  applicable,  p.  xxix. 

Ex.  VIII. — Comparison  wrongly  used,  p.  xxix. 
Obs.  9. — The  superlative  of  two  dual  forms,  p.  xxx. 

Ex.  IX.  —Superlative  for  comparative,  p   xxxi. 
Obs.  10. — Adverbs  used  for  adjectives,  p.  xxxi. 

Ex.  X.— Escaping  use  of  adverbs  as  adjectives,  p.  xxxii 
Obs.  11. — Adjectives  usually  precede,  p.  xxxiii. 
Obs.  12. — Sometimes  adjectives  follow,  p.  xxxiv. 
Obs.  13. — Adjective  and  its  modifiers  separated,  p.  xxxiv. 

DeMONSTR.\TIVE,  p.   XXXV. 

DefiniU,  p.  xxxv. 

Definite  Article,  p.  xxxv. 

Obs.  14. — When  articles  are  to  be  repeated,  p.  xxxv. 
Ex   XI. — Repeating  articles  and  adjectives,  p.  xxxvi. 
Ex.  XII.     Meaning  shown  by  articles,  p.  xxxvi. 
Obs.  15. — Article  repeated  for  emphasis,  p.  xxxvi. 
Obs.  16. — The  first  two,  p.  xxxvii. 


Sec.  I]  ANALYSIS.  XCiil 

Tltis  and  That,  p.  xxxviii. 
Obs.  17. — Couples  for  distinguishing,  p.  xxxviii. 
Indefinite^  p.  xl. 

Indefinite  Article^  p.  xl. 
Obe.  18. — Not  to  be  used  to  denote  the  whole,  p.  xli. 
Numeral,  p.  xlii. 
CardimUs,  p.  xlii. 
Obs.  19. — When  to  spell  numbers,  p.  xlii. 
Obs.  20. — Use  of  collective  words,  p.  xlii. 

Ex.  XIII .  —  Correcting  expressions  of  number,  p.  xlii. 
OrdinalSt  p.  xlii. 
Obs.  21.— Position  of  the  th,  p.  xlii. 
Obs.  22. — Choice  between  cardinals  and  ordinals,  p.  xliii. 
POSSESSIVES,  p.  xliii. 

Obs.  23. — No  objective  genitive  in  English,  p.  xliii. 

Obs.  24. — Possessive  a  relation  of  persons,  p.  xliv. 

Obs.  25. —  '*  WhosH  "  as  a  neuter  often  condemned,  p.  xliv. 

Obs.  26. — Ambiguous  possessives  avoided,  p.  xlvi. 

Obs.  27. — Adjectives  and  possessives,  p.  xlvi. 

Ex.  XIV.— Possessives  changed  to  phrases,  p.  xlvi. 
APPOSITIVES,  p.  xlvii. 

Obs.  2b. — Two  sentences  made  one,  p.  xlvii. 
Obs.  29 — Appositives  to  be  near  their  nouns,  p.  xlvii. 
Ex.  XV. — Arrangement  of  appositives,  p.  xlvii. 
PARTICIPLES,  p.  xlviii. 

Obs.  30. — Position  of  Participle,  p.  xlviii. 

Ex.  XVI. — Changing  position  of  participle,  p.  xlviii. 
Obs.  31.— Participle  resolved  into  clause,  p.  xlix. 
Obs.  32.— The  participle  •♦being"  omitted,  p.  xlix. 
INFINITIVES,  p.  I. 
PREPOSITION  PHRASES,  p.  1. 

Obs.  33  — Selection  of  the  appropriate  one,  p.  1. 
Table  of  appropriate  prepositions,  p.  li. 

Ex.  XVII.— Replacing  inappropriate  prepositions,  p.  Iv. 
Obs.  34. — Wrong  insertions  or  omissions,  p.  Iv. 

Ex.  XVIII. — Prepositions  removed  or  inserted,  p.  Iv. 
Obs.  35. — Repetition  of  prejwsitions,  p.  Ivi. 
Obs.  8H.  — Prepositions  after  conjunctions,  p   Ivii. 

Ex.  XIX. — Repetition  of  prepositions,  p.  Ivii. 
Obs.  37. — Position  of  preposition  phrases,  p.  Iviii. 

Ex.  XX. — Position  of  preiH)8ition  phrases,  p.  Iviii. 
Ob«.  88. — Two  prepositions  with  one  object,  p.  lix. 
Obe.  89. — Splitting  of  particles,  p.  Ix. 

Ex.  XXL— Rearrangement  to  avoid  suspense,  p.  Ixii. 
ADVERBIAL  PHRASES,  p.  Ixil. 

CLAUSES.     (Soe  Complex  Sentences,  pages  cix-cxii),  p.  Ixii. 
The  Predicate,  p.  Ixii, 

Ex.  XXII.— Completing  sentences,  p.  Ixiii. 
Ex.  XXIII.— Supplying  predicates,  p.  Ixiv. 


i 


x^MV  ANALYSia  [Part  I. 

Auxiliaries^  p.  Ixiv. 

Obs.  40. — Do  and  did  as  ezpletiyes,  p.  Ixiv. 
Ol».  41.— Distinction  between  shall  and  will,  p.  be  v. 
(a)— In  affirmative  sentences,  p  Ixv. 
Ex.  XXIV.— Corrections  in  the  same,  p.  Ixvi. 

(b)— In  interrogative  sentences,  p.  Ixvii. 
Ex.  XXV.— Corrections  in  the  same,  p.  Ixx. 
Obs.  42. — Distinction  between  would  and  should,  p.  Ixx. 
Ex.  XXVI. — General  correction  of  auxiliaries,  p.  Ixxi. 
Obs.  4;i.  — Subtle  uses  of  shall,  will,  etc.,  p.  Ixxii. 
Obs.  44.— Maj  distinguished  from  can,  p.  Ixxiii. 
Ex.  XXVII. — Meaning  of  auxiliaries,  p.  Ixxiii. 
The  Indirect  Object,  p.  Ixxiv. 

Obs.  45.— Series  of  infinitives  ambiguous,  p.  Ixxv. 
Obs.  4<) — The  infinitive  of  purpose,  p   Ixxv. 

Ex.  XXVIII.  -  Ambiguity  shown  and  avoided,  p.  Ixxy. 
Modifiers  of  the  Predicate,  p.  Ixxvi. 
ADVERBS,  p.  Ixxvii. 

Obe.  47.— Care  required  in  inserting  adverbs,  p.  Ixxvi. 

"Ex.  XXIX. — Arrangement  of  adverbs,  p.  Ixxvi. 
Oba.  48.  —Adverbs  usually  precede,  p   Ixxvi. 
Obe.  49. — When  emphatic,  the  adverb  follows,  p.  Ixxvii. 
ObB.  50. — Adverbs  before  participles,  p.  Ixxvii. 
Obs.  51. — Modifiers  of  special  words  next  to  them,  p.  Ixxviil 
Obe.  52. — Not  connected  with  part  denied,  p.  Ixxviii. 
Denial  of  the  subject,  p.  Ixxviii. 
Universal,  p.  Ixxviii. 
Partial,  p.  Ixxx. 
Denial  of  the  predicate,  p.  Ixxx. 
Denial  of  a  modifier,  p.  Ixxxi. 
Ex.  XXX. — Transferring  negation,  p.  Ixxxii. 
Obs.  53. — Double  negatives,  p.  Ixxxii. 

Ex.  XXXI.— Correction  of  negatives,  p.  Ixxxiii. 
Obs.  54. — Negative  sentences  made  affirmative,  p.  Ixxxiii. 
Ex.  XXXII. — Transforming  negative  into  affirmative  sen- 
tences, p.  Ixxxiv. 
Obs.  55. — *'  Only"  placed  near  word  qualified,  p.  Ixxxiv. 
Ex.  XXXIII. — Changing  position  of  ''only,"  p   Ixxxvii. 
Obs.  56. — As  and  so  frequently  misused,  p.  Ixxxvii. 

Ex.  XXXIV. — Corrections  of  as  and  so,  p.  Ixxxviii. 
Obs.  57. — '*  At  least  "  used  ambiguously,  p.  Ixxxviii. 
PREPOSITION  PHRASES,  p.  Ixxxviii. 
PARTICIPLE  PHRASES,  p.  Ixxxviii. 
Arrangement  of  Phrases,  p.  Ixxxix. 
ABSOLUTE  PHRASES,  p.  Ixxxix. 
PRIORITY,  p.  Ixxxix. 

Obs.  58. — (1)  Time,  (2)  place,  (3)  manner,  p.  Ixxxix. 
Obs.  59. — Scattering  modifiers,  p.  xc. 
Obs.  60. — Scattering  not  to  produce  ambiguity,  p.  xci. 
Ex.  XXXV. — Correction  of  use  of  modifiers,  p.  xci. 


SECTION  SECOND. 

COMPLEX  SENTENCES. 

A  Complex  Sentence  is  one  in  which  a  subordinate 
sentence  is  used  either  as  the  Subject,  as  the  Object,  as  tlie 
Predicate,  or  as  a  Modifier.  (F'or  convenience,  sentences 
in  which  one  member  begins  with  "if  are  in  thisvohime 
treated  as  Compound  Sentences,  though  often  considered 
Complex.) 

Hence,  the  Subordinate  Sentence  must  be  one  of  three 
kinds :  (1)  a  Noun  Sentence,  (2)  an  Adjective  Sentence,  or 
(3)  an  Adverb  Sentence. 

Note.  — The  Predicate  may  be  made  up  of  a  Copula  and  a  Noun 
Sentence  ;  as,  All  things  are  not  what  they  seem. 

(I)  Noun  Sentences  occupy  the  place  and  follow 
the  construction  of  nouns,  and  may  therefore  be  either 
(a)  the  Subject,  (b)  the  Object,  (c)  the  Indirect  Object,  or 
(d)  tlie  Predicate  of  the  principal  sentence.  Though 
usually  introduced  by  thaty  they  sometimes  begin  without 
it. 

Thus,  (a)  That  a  historian  should  not  record  trifles,  is  jwrfectly 
true.— Macaulay.  Whatevor  is,  is  right.  That  you  have  wronged 
me,  doth  appear  in  this. 

(I))  She  knew  that  his  1 ;  .*..,  «larkcned  with  Xxw  .sluulow.— 

Byron.  I  thought  ten  thousaml  swords  must  have  leaped  from 
their  scabbards,  to  avenge  oven  a  look  that  threatened  her  with  in- 
sult.—BuBiiK.     I  perceive  you  feel  the  dint  of  pity. 


XCVl  NOUN  SENTENCES.  [Part  I. 

(c)  I  was  taught  is  mj  youth  that  to  know  how  to  wait  is  the 
secret  of  success. 

(d)  I  am  not  what  I  used  to  be. 

Exercise  XXXVI. — Point  out  the  Noun,  the  Adjec- 
tive, and  the  Adverb  sentences  in  the  following  exercise, 
and  tell  how  each  is  used. 

Example. — She  is  eight  yean  old,  is  a  noun  sentence,  used  as  the 
object  of  said. 

She  was  eight  years  old,  she  said. 

What  you  say  is  true. 

The  dog  is  where  it  ought  to  be. 

What  touches  us  ourselves  shall  be  last  served. 

Tea  I  thy  proud  lorda,  nniiltkd  knd  !  ihaU  we 
That  man  hath  yet  a  eoiiL 

That  malioe,  not  repenUnoe,  brought  thee  hither. 
Doth  in  this  appear. 

That  is  what  I  told  you. 

I  fear  our  purpose  is  discovered. 

That  they  ai*e  free,  they  know. 

Man  cannot  cover  what  God  would  reveal. 

That  some  one  had  blundered  soon  became  apparent. 

By  my  word,  the  Saxon  said. 
The  riddle  Is  already  read. 

You  said  the  enemy  would  not  come  down. 
That  they  escaped  unhurt  seems  a  miracle. 
I  trow  they  did  not  part  in  scorn. 

Exercise  XXX YII. — Fill  the  following  blanks  by  in- 
serting Noun  Sentences : 

Young  people  too  often  imagine .     I  promise  to  do . 

No  one  can  deny .     It  is  easy  to  prove .     His  excuse  for 

not  being  present  was .     A  glance  at  the  map  of  Eiiroi>e  will 

show  us .     Time  will  discover .    Leaves  are  to  plants . 

His  courage  and  success  illustrate  the  proverb .      has 

been  called  the  golden  rule.     requires  no  demonstration. 


Sec.  II.]        DIRECT  AND  INDIRECT  QUOTATIONS.  XCVU 

The  king  could  not  understand .     I  am  more  willing  to  give 

,  than  to  ask ,     doth  appear  in  this.     When  the  trial 

is  concluded,  we  shall  know .     We  believe ,  and .    It 

has  often  been  observed .     is  right.     After  the  accident, 

the  children  gathered  round  their  father,  and  asked .     He 

complains  of  our  being  late,  but  he  did  not  tell  us .     I  have 

tried  every  means,  but  I  cannot  discover .     is  a  traitor. 

Though  we  have  sought  him  everywhere,  we  cannot  tell . 

Obs.  61. — When  the  noun  sentence  is  (a)  a  Direct 
Quotation,  or  (b)  is  preceded  by  an  interrogative  pronoun, 
no  connecting  particle  is  required. 

Thus,  (a)  Buflfon  used  to  say,  •*  Genius  is  patience."  "  Genius 
is  common  sense  intensified,"  is  another  definition,  (b)  I  know 
not  who  you  are,  or  what  you  want. 

Obs.  62. — Even  when  a  speech  is  reported  in  the 
third  person,  it  often  adds  life,  and  sometimes  adds  clear- 
ness, to  omit  the  thai. 

Thus,  "He  said  he  took  it  ill,"  or,  "He  took  it  ill,  he  said,"  is 
better  than  •'  He  said  that  he  took  it  ill." 

Obs.  63. — Dependent  clauses  introduced  by  thai  must 
be  kept  clear  from  those  that  are  independent. 

Thus,  "  He  replied  that  lie  wished  to  go,  and  intended  to  get 
n>ady,"  may  mean,  "  He  replied  ....  and  he  intended,"  or, 
"  and  that  he  intended." 

ExKRcisE  XXXVIII. — Change  the  following  passages 
from  the  Direct  to  the  Indirect  mode  of  speech. 

Example. — I  said  within  myself  that  I  had  behaved  very  ill,  but 
that  I  had  only  just  set  out  on  my  travels,  and  should  learn  better 
manners  as  I  got  along. 

"I  have  behaved  very  ill,"  said  I  within  myself;  "but  I  have 
only  just  set  out  on  my  travels,  and  shall  learn  better  manners  as 
I  get  along." 


XCVlll  NOUN  SENTENCES.  [Part  I. 

"  The  virtue  of  prosperity,*'  says  Lord  Bacon,  '*  is  temperance ; 
the  virtue  of  adversity  is  fortitude." 

"I  trust,"  said  Lord  Brougham,  "that  at  length  the  time  is 
come  when  Parliament  will  no  longer  bear  to  be  told  that  slave- 
owners are  the  best  law-givers  on  slavery." 

"English  ladies,"  says  Erasmus,  "are  divinely  pretty  and  too 
good-natured." 

Cato  the  Censor  concluded  all  his  speeches  in  the  Boman  Sen- 
ate with  the  words,  **  Carthage  must  be  destroyed." 

Agis,  King  of  the  Simrtaus,  on  being  asked  how  many  men  he 
hatl,  confidently  replied,  "  Enough  to  put  the  enemy  to  flight." 

When  Alexander  commanded  the  people  to  give  him  divine 
honors,  the  Spartans  replied,  "Since  Alexander  wishes  to  be 
called  a  god,  let  him  be  a  god." 

When  Xerxes  summoned  the  little  army  of  Leonidas  to  lay  down 
their  arms,  they  retorted  in  scorn,  "  Let  liim  come  and  take  them." 

On  discovering  the  principle  of  specific  gravity,  Archimedes 
rushed  out  of  liis  bath,  exclaiming,  "  I  have  found  it !  " 

Dr.  Guillotin,  in  describing  his  beheading  machine,  aftei-ward 
called  the  guillotine,  said,  "  With  my  machine  I  whisk  ofi"  your 
head  in  a  twinkling,  and  you  feel  no  pain." 

Wlien  the  Chesapeake  was  boarded  by  the  crew  of  the  Shannon, 
the  gallant  Captain  Lawrence  fell  exclaiming,  "  Don't  give  up  the 
ship ! " 

On  reading  Macaulay's  "History  of  England,"  Sydney  Smith 
remarked  :  "  I  \*'ish  I  knew  anything  as  well  as  Macaulay  thinks  he 
knows  everything." 

At  Worms,  as  at  Augsburg,  Luther  replied  briefly  :  "  I  will  re- 
tract when  my  doctrines  are  not  merely  declared  to  be  false,  but 
are  proved  to  be  so." 

On  seeing  the  formidable  Chateau  Gaillard  rise,  King  Philip 
exclaimed  in  wi-ath,  *'  I  would  take  it,  were  its  walls  of  iron."  "I 
would  hold  it,  were  its  walls  of  butter,"  was  the  defiant  answer  of 
King  Richard. 

"I  cannot,  my  Lords,"  said  the  Earl  of  Chatham,  "  I  will  not 
join  in  congratulation  on  misfortune  and  disgrace.  This,  my  Lords, 
is  a  perilous  and  tremendous  moment.  It  is  not  a  time  for  adula- 
tion ;  the  smoothness  of  flattery  cannot  save  us  in  this  rugged  and 


SBC.  U.]        DIRECT  AND  INDIRECT  QUOTATIONS.  Xcix 

awful  crisis.  It  is  now  necessary  to  instruct  the  throne  in  the 
language  of  truth." 

He  said  with  great  emphasis,  *'  I  assure  you  there  is  scarce  a 
poet  or  historian  among  the  Roman  orators." 

**If  it  feed  nothing  else,"  said  Shylock,  "it  will  feed  my  re- 
venge." 

I  would  not  have  a  slave  to  till  my  ground. 

To  carry  me,  to  fan  me  while  I  sleep. — Cowp«». 

I  have  had  playmates,  I  have  had  companions. 

In  my  days  of  childhood,  in  my  joyful  school  days.— Lamb. 

King  Charles  wrote  to  Prince  Rupert  in  the  following  terms  : 
**  First,  I  must  congratulate  with  you  for  your  good  successes, 
assuring  you  tliat  the  things  themselves  are  no  more  welcome  to 
me  than  that  you  arc  the  means.  I  know  the  imiwrtance  of  STip- 
plying  you  with  jwwder,  for  which  I  have  taken  all  possible  ways, 
and  have  sent  both  to  Ireland  and  Bristol." 

The  Marquis  rose  and  said  :  "Nor  is  it  of  the  insufficiency  of 
any  future  evidence  only,  that  I  complain.  Even  of  the  past  I 
must  express  my  fear  that  much  must  be  obliterated,  and  the 
whole  rendered  obscure  from  the  various  lapses  of  time  since  it 
was  delivered." 

Mr.  Burke  said :  "  Let  me  for  a  moment  quit  my  delegated 
character,  and  speak  entirely  from  my  personal  feelings  and  con- 
viction. I  am  known  to  have  had  much  experience  of  men  and 
manners — in  active  life,  and  amidst  occupations  the  most  various  ! 
From  that  exjierience  I  now  protest,  I  never  knew  a  man  who  was 
bad,  fit  for  sen-ice  that  was  good  !  There  is  always  some  dis- 
(jualifying  ingredient  mixing  and  spoiling  the  compound." 

Mr.  Fox,  assuming  the  language  of  the  unfortunate  prince,  ex- 
claimed :  "  I  was  the  sovereign  of  a  fertile  countiy,  hapi)y  and 
beloved ;  I  endeavored  to  conciliate  the  friendship  of  all  around 
me,  and,  as  I  thought,  with  a  success  which  impressed  me  with 
every  sensation  of  f«dicity.  This  was  the  situation  of  which  I 
boasted ;  but  what  is  now  the  reverse  ?  I  am  a  wretched  exile, 
dependent  on  tlie  bounty  of  those  who  were  my  enemies,  but 
whose  enmities  are  now  burietl  in  their  symimthy  for  my  distresses. 
What  liave  I  done  to  deserve  this  punishment  ?  " 


C  NOUN  SENTENCES.  [Part  I. 

Exercise  XXXIX. — Change  the  following  sentences 
from  the  Indirect  to  the  Direct  form. 

Example. — The  sage  mafnstrate  said:  "Beef  is  the  king  of 
meat ;  beef  comprehendfl  in  it  the  essence  of  partridge,  and  quail, 
and  venison,  and  pheasant,  and  plam-pndding,  and  custard." 

The  sage  magistrate  said  that  beef  is  the  king  of  meat ;  that 
beef  comprehends  in  it  the  essence  of  partridge,  and  quail,  and 
venison,  and  pheasant,  and  pluni-])udding,  and  custard. 

Before  the  great  battle  which  closed  his  briUiant  career.  Nelson 
displayed  his  famous  signal,  that  England  expected  every  man 
that  day  to  do  his  duty. 

Douglas  told  Hotspur  that  he  would  carry  his  pennon  into 
Scotland,  and  fix  it  on  the  tower  of  his  Castle  of  Dalkeith,  that  it 
might  be  seen  from  far. 

The  Bruce  kept  looking  at  his  weaix)n,  which  was  injured  by 
the  force  of  the  blow,  and  said  that  he  had  broken  his  good  battle- 
axe. 

Pompey  told  Lucius  Sylla  that  it  was  vain  to  oppose  him,  for 
men  worshipped  the  rising  rather  than  the  setting  sun. 

A  short  time  before  his  death.  Cardinal  Wolsey  said  that  if  he 
had  been  as  diligent  to  serve  his  God  as  he  had  been  to  please  his 
king,  He  would  not  have  forsaken  him  in  his  gray  hairs. 

Archimedes  said  that  if  a  fulcrum  and  a  point  to  stand  on  were 
given  him,  he  would  move  the  world  with  his  lever. 

Alexander  the  Great,  on  being  asked  why  he  did  not  contend  in 
the  Olympic  Games,  said  that  he  would  do  so  when  he  had  kings 
for  his  competitors. 

When  Pyrrhus  had  shown  the  utmost  fondness  for  his  expedi- 
tion apfainst  the  Romans,  Cyneas,  his  chief  minister,  asked  him 
what  he  proposed  to  himself  by  the  war.  Pyrrhus  said  that  he 
meant  to  conquer  the  Romans  and  reduce  all  Italy  to  his  obedi- 
ence. Cyneas  asked,  what  then.  Pyn-hus  said  that  he  would  pass 
over  into  Sicily,  and  that  then  all  the  Sicilians  must  be  their  sub- 
jects. Cyneas  asked  what  his  Majesty  intended  next.  The  King 
replied  that  he  meant  to  conquer  Carthage  and  make  himself 
master  of  all  Africa.  Then  the  minister  asked  what  was  to  be  the 
end  of  all  his  expeditions ;  and  the  King  said  that  for  the  rest  of 


Sia  II.]  ADJECTIVE   SENTENCES.  CI 

their  lives  they  would  sit  down  to  good  wine.  Cyneas  then  asked 
if  they  could  have  better  than  they  had  then  before  them,  or  if 
they  had  not  already  as  much  as  they  could  drink. 

(2)  Adjective  Sentences  occupy  the  place  and 
follow  the  construction  of  adjectives  (see  page  xxv).  They 
are  all  connected  with  the  principal  sentence  by  relatives, 
or  such  equivalent  words  as  when^  y^hy^  hoio^  etc. ;  though 
when  the  relative  is  in  the  objective  case  it  may  be  omit- 
ted without  confusion  ;  as,  "  The  message  you  gave  me  I 
have  told  him." 

And  made  ns  low  the  good  we  oft  might  win.— Jfea«ttr«/or  Mmsurt. 

Blair,  criticising  Addison,  says  :  "In  conclusion,  instead  of 
[it  gives]  the  things  it  represents^  the  regularity  of  coiTect  style  re- 
quires the  things  which  it  represents."  But  the  sentence  is  better 
without  the  correction. 

Exercise  XL. — Fill  the  following  blanks  by  inserting 
Adjective  Sentences. 

Example. — Alfred  the  Great  was  one  of  the  wisest  monarchs 
that  have  ever  reigned. 

Alfred  the  Great  was  one  of  the  wisest  monarchs — .  Botany 
is  the  science — .  A  metal  —  is  said  to  be  ductile.  The  earth  —  is 
a  globe  or  sphere.  The  age  —  has  been  called  the  era  of  inven- 
tions. Elasticity  is  that  property — .  Tlie  man  —  shows  prudence. 
The  Nile  is  one  of  those  rivers — .  He  received  the  reward — .  The 
rtowers  —  have  all  faded.  Offices  of  trast  should  be  conferred 
only  on  those — .  Autumn  is  the  season — .  Trafalgar  was  the  en- 
gagement— .  France  is  the  country,  where — .  The  structure  of 
the  camel  is  wonderfully  adapted  to  the  countries  -.  The  prisoner 
confessed  the  crimes — .  The  stoi*m  —  passed  away  without  harm. 
I  should  not  like  to  be  the  man — .  The  house  —  has  been  burnt. 
I  have  often  wished  to  revisit  the  place  -.  Tlie  clergyman  —  died 
yt»sterday  at  the  voiy  hour—.  Ho  could  not  have  anticiimted  the 
fate— .  The  motives  —  are  difficult  to  understand.  John  Wycliffe 
—  died  in  1384.     We  had  not  proceeded  far  when  a  shower  over- 


oil  ADJECTIVE  SENTENCES  [Part  I. 

took  ns— ..  The  treaty  of  Aix-la-Chapelle  —  was  concluded  in  1748. 
He  —  need  not  hoi>e  for  that  success — .  The  statement  —  does 
not  agree  with  that — .  They  —  cannot  look  for  the  protection  of 
the  government — . 

Obs.  64. — III  poetry  and  in  collo(|uial  prose  the  rel- 
ative 16  sometimes  omitted  when  a  nominative. 


Thus, 


*TU  disUnoe  lends  ctiduuitoient  to  the  view. 

And  robes  the  mountain  in  its  anre  hoe.— CAltrsELL. 


Obs.  66. — A  blunder  as  common  as  it  is  absurd  is 
the  insertion  of  aiul  before  adjective  sentences.     Thus : 

The  principal  and  distinguishing  excellence  of  Virgil,  and  which, 
In  my  opinion,  he  possesses  above  all  others,  etc.— Blaib. 

Obs.  66. — A  general  rule  for  adjective  sentences  is 
to  place  the  relative  as  near  as  possible  to  its  antecedent. 
This  is  an  application  of  the  rule  of  proximity  that, 

Obs.  67. — Pronouns  should  follow  the  nouns  to 
which  they  refer  without  the  intervention  of  another 
noun. 

Ambiguity  from  the  neglect  of  this  rule  is  shown  in  the  follow- 
ing sentences  (see  others  on  pages  291-294) : 

King  John  of  France  was  led  in  triumph  throagh  the  streets  of  London  by  the  Black 
IMnce,  the  Bon  of  Edward  III.,  u-ho  had  defeated  him,  and  taken  him  prisoner,  at  the 
battle  of  Poictiers. 

Any  cn3  unacquainted  with  the  historical  facts  would  be  doubt- 
ful, from  the  construction  of  this  sentence,  whether  it  was  the 
Black  Prince  or  his  father  that  had  taken  John  j^risoner.  The  fol- 
lowing arrangement  would  remove  tbe  ambiguity  :  "  King  John  of 
Franco,  who  had  been  defeated  and  taken  prisoner  at  Poictiers  by 
the  Black  Prince,  the  son  of  Edward  III.,  was  led  in  triumph 
through  the  streets  of  London  by  Lis  conqueror." 

Many  clergymen  act  so  directly  contrary  to  this  method,  that, 
from  a  habit  of  saving  time  and  paper,  which  they  acquired  at  the 


Sec.  II.  1  RELATIVE  CLAUSES.  t.Mii 

university,  they  write  in  so  diminutive  a  manner  that  they  are 
hardly  able  to  go  on. — Swift.  To  the  group  of  Dino8a^l^8  belongs 
the  Inquenadon  of  the  Wealden  beds,  first  made  known  by  Dr. 
Man  telly,  whose  body  was  28  to  30  feet  long.— Dana. 

^Vheu,  however,  one  of  two  preceding  nouns  is  decidedly  supe- 
rior to  the  other  in  empliasis,  the  more  emphatic  may  be  presumed 
to  be  the  noun  referred  to  by  the  pronoun,  even  though  the  noun 
of  inferior  emphasis  inters'enes.  Thus  :  "  At  this  moment  the  col« 
onel  came  up  and  took  the  place  of  the  wounded  general.  He 
gave  orders  to  halt."  Here  he  would  naturally  refer  to  colonel, 
though  general  intervenes.  A  conjimction  will  often  show  that  a 
pronoim  refers  to  the  subject  of  the  preceding  sentence,  and  not 
to  another  intenening  noun.  *'  The  sentinel  at  once  took  aim  at 
the  approaching  soldier,  and  fired.  He  tlien  retreated  to  give  the 
alarm. " — Abbott. 

ExEBCisE  XLI. — Correct  tile  following  sentences. 

Example. — This  is  a  glorious  scene,  which  cannot  be  surj^assed. 

This  is  a  gloiious  scene,  and  which  cannot  be  surpassed. 

In  fact,  scarcely  anything  of  Milton's  poetic  diction  has  become 
obsolete,  except  some  un-English  words  and  phi-ases  of  his  own 
coinage,  and  M'hich  foiled  to  get  admittance  at  all. — Marsh, 

To  heatl  a  sect,  to  infuse  i)ai'ty-spirit,  to  make  men  arrogant,  un- 
charitable, and  malevolent,  is  the  easiest  task  imaginable,  and  to 
which  almost  any  blockhead  is  fully  equal. — (Umpijell. 

Find  eiTor  in  quotation  from  R.  G.  White,  page  Ixxii. 

I  with  my  family  reside  in  the  paiish  of  Stockton,  which  con- 
sists of  my  wife  and  daughters. — Quoted  by  Alford. 

The  most  interesting  news  from  Italy  is  that  of  the  trial  of  the 
thieves  who  robbed  the  bank  of  Messrs.  Parodi,  at  Grenoa,  on  May 
1,  1862,  in  oijeu  daylight,  which  commenced  at  Genoa  on  the  5th. 
-Id. 

A  child  was  run  over  by  a  wagon  three  years  old  and  cross-eyed 
with  pantalets  on  which  never  spoke  afterward. 

A  child  eighteen  months  old  tumbled  into  a  well  used  to  catch 
min-water  that  fell  headlong  into  the  fi-ont  area  of  the  house  and 
nime  near  drowning,  there  boing  about  two  feet  in  the  well. 

We  have  recoivetl  a  bunch  of  grapes  from  our  friend  Williams, 


CIV  ADJECTIVE  SENTEMCBS.  [Part  I. 

for  which  he  will  please  receive  our  compliments,  some  of  which 
are  nearly  two  inches  in  diameter. 

The  hotel  will  be  kept  by  the  widow  of  the  former  landlord, 
Mr.  Brown,  who  died  last  summer  on  a  new  and  improved  plan. 

A  Howard  may  look  upon  scenes  with  a  stoical  composure,  nay 
with  a  seeming  hard-heartedness,  which  at  first  dissolved  him  in 
tears. — Good  Words. 

Frank  S.  Fay,  of  Meriden,  Gonn.,  u  bony  picking  ont  shot  from  hik  face  that  was  in- 
tended for  a  ralibit.  His  friend,  B.  C.  Birdwy,  who  wa«  hunting  with  him  on  Thnrtdajr, 
got  Fay  in  range  with  the  game.— .V.  F.  Sun. 

Questions  suggest  themselves  as  to  how  the  reporter  knew  that 
Frank  Fay's  face  was  intended  for  a  rabbit,  and  how  it  became 
misplaced. 

The  committee  would  further  recommend  that  the  south  room 
should  have  new  furniture,  as  the  rear  seats  have  all  the  year  been 
occupied  by  children  that  have.no  backs. 

They  lay  down  to  rest  behind  their  steeds,  picketed  to  the  wall 
which  hail  accomiwrnied  them  from  the  Volga  to  the  Don. — Alison. 

Obs.  68. — The  antecedent  must  be  either  a  noun,  a 
pronoun,  or  an  infinitive — never  an  adjective. 

Thus  sentences  like  the  following  are  incorrect  (see  also  page 
cxiv) : 

Some  men  are  too  ignorant  to  be  humble,  without  which  there 
can  be  no  docility  and  no  progress. — Berkeley. 

Obs.  69. — Awkwardness  results  when  the  antecedent 
is  implied  in  a  possessive  case  not  close  to  the  relative,  es- 
pecially if  the  possessive  be  a  pronoun.     Thus : 

This  way  will  direct  you  to  a  gentleman's  house,  that  hath  the 
skill  to  take  off  these  burdens ;  better,  to  the  house  of  a  gentle- 
man that  hath  skill,  etc. 

I  am  his  first-bom  son  that  was  the  last 

That  wore  the  imperial  diadem  of  Rome.— Titus  Andronicus. 

Obs.  70. — Avoid  constructions  in  which  the  relative 
may  refer  either  to  a  noun  in  a  preceding  clause,  or  to  the 
entire  clause. 


Sbc.  il]  relative  clauses.  cv 

I  have  before  remarked,  aiid  the  remark  deserves  to  be  repeated, 
that  nothmg  is  a  more  certain  sign  of  careless  composition  than 
to  make  such  relatives  as  which  not  refer  to  any  precise  expression, 
but  carry  a  lower  and  vague  relation  to  the  general  strain  of  what 
had  gone  before. — Blaib. 

Thus : 

There  was  a  public  house  next  door  which  was  a  great  nuisance. 

Here  it  is  doubtful  whether  the  obnoxious  fact  is  the 
existence  of  the  public  house,  or  its  position.  This  am- 
biguity is  couiuion  after  a  negative.     Thus : 

He  said  that  he  would  not  hear  me,  which  I  confess  I  had  ex- 
pected. 

Here  the  ineaum*^  may  be  either  that  I  had  expected  or 
tliat  1  had  not  expected  he  would. 

To  avoid  such  ambiguity  the  antecedent  should  be  re- 
peated in  some  new  form.     Thus : 

There  was  a  public  house  next  door,  the  proximity  of  which  was 
a  great  nuisance ;  or, 

There  was  a  public  house  next  door,  the  existence  of  wliioh  was 
a  great  nuisance. 

He  said  that  he  would  not  even  hear  me,  a  favor  I  confess  I  had 
expected ;  or. 

He  said  that  he  would  not  even  hear  me,  a  refusal  I  confess  I 
had  expected. 

Exercise  XLII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. —  an  accident  which  broke  the  gates  down  and 

alarmed  the  neighborhood. 

At  four  o'clock  yesterday  morning  a  lot  of  wood  piled  in  a  shetl 
at  No.  144  Eastern  Avenue,  belonging  to  the  B.  Hub  Cki.,  fell 
down  with  a  loud  noise  which  broke  the  gates  down  and  alarmed 
the  neighborhood. 

The  ten  high  windows  have  been  filled  with  colored  glass,  which 
lends  a  subdued  religious  radiance  to  the  entire  interior. 


cvi  ADJECTIVE  SEN  I ENCES.  [Pakt  I. 

Precision  imports  pniuing  the  expression  so  as  to  exhibit 
neither  more  nor  less  than  an  exact  copy  of  his  idea  who  uses  it. — 
Blair. 

Obs.  71. — When  the  relative  is  either  implied  (in  a 
participle),  or  repeated,  the  antecedent  must  often  be 
repeated  also.     Thus: 

Bnt  if  there  were  in  any  part  of  the  world  a  national  chnrch  re- 
garded as  heretical  by  four-tifths  of  the  nation  committed  to  its 
care  ;  a  church  established  and  maintained  by  the  sword  ;  a  church 
producing  twice  as  many  riots  as  conversions ;  a  church  which, 
though  possessing  great  wealth  and  i)Ower,  and  though  long 
backed  by  persecuting  laws,  had,  in  the  course  of  many  genera- 
tions been  found  unable  to  propagate  its  doctrines,  and  barely 
able  to  maintain  its  ground ;  a  church  so  odious  that  fraud  and 
violence,  when  used  against  its  clear  rights  of  proi^erty,  were  gen- 
erally regarded  as  fair  play ;  a  church  whose  ministers  were  preach- 
ing to  desolate  walls,  and  Mtith  difficulty  obtaining  their  lawful 
sustenance  by  the  means  of  bayonets— such  a  church,  on  our 
principles,  could  not,  we  must  own,  be  defended. — {Quoted  hy 
Abbott.) 

Obs.  72- — Avoid  "  the  sin  of  tcA/cA-craft " — the  enn- 
ploynient  of  which  to  introduce  heterogeneous  clauses. 
Every  repetition  of  the  relative  introduces  a  new  possibil- 
ity of  ambiguity.     (See  example,  page  292.) 

The  following  example,  though  perfectly  grammatical,  is  felt  to 
be  very  awkward  :  "The  King  marched  from  Exeter  into  Cornwall, 
irhich  having  pacified,  he  returned  to  Winchester."  Better  "  which 
he  pacified;  he  then  returned  to  Winchester  ;  "  or,  '^  and  having 
pacified  tliis  countt/y  he  returned." 

They  leave  us 
The  dangers,  the  repulses,  judgments,  wants; 
Which  how  long  will  you  bear  *— Bkm  Jonsom. 

A  daring  inversion.  The  relative  is  close  upon  the  antecedent ; 
but  objection  may  be  taken  to  the  position  of  the  interrogative 
word  after  it.  Yet  the  infrequency  of  the  construction  gives  it 
great  emphasis ;  and  we  may  regard  it  as  a  sudden   and  direct 


Bbo.  U]  RELATIVE  CLAUSES.  CVIl 

rhetorical  stroke  for  *•  vhich  you  will  surely  not  bear  much 
longer." 

So  glistcr'd  the  dire  anakc,  and  into  fraud 

Led  Kve,  our  crcdulou8  mother,  etc. 

Whidi  when  she  saw,  thu8  to  her  guide  she  spake. 

The  Latin  constniction  Qum  quum,  etc.,  is  apt  to  get  translated  in 
this  form,  which  is  not  common,  and  should  not  be  encouraged. — 
Bain. 

ExKRCisE  XLIII. — Correct  tlie  following  sentences  : 

The  sharks  who  prey  upon  the  iuadvei-tency  of  young  heirs  are 
more  pardonable  than  those  who  trespass  \\\)on  the  good  opinion 
of  those  who  treat  them  upon  the  foot  of  choice  and  respect. — 
Guardian. 

One  may  have  an  air  which  proceeds  from  a  just  sufficiency  and 
knowledge  of  the  matter  before  him,  which  may  naturally  produce 
some  motion  of  his  head  and  body,  which  might  become  the  bench 
l>etter  than  the  bar.  —  Guardian. 

The  Earl  of  Falmouth  and  Mr.  Coventiy  were  rivals  ^rho  should 
have  most  interest  with  the  duke,  wlio  loved  the  eaii  best,  but 
thought  the  other  the  wiser  man,  who  supported  Pen  {who  dis- 
obliged all  the  courtiers),  even  against  the  earl,  who  contemned 
Pen. — Loud  Clarendon's  Life. 

Obs.  73. — The  relative  should  be  who  or  which  where 
the  meaning  is  and  he^  aiul  it.,  etc.,  for  Ju\  for  «V,  etc. ; 
otherwise  it  slionld  be  that^  if  euphony  allows. 

There  is  a  marked  distinction  between  adjective  sentences  where 
tho  relative  whoy  etc.,  is  di\'isible  into  the  demonstrative  with  some 
conjunction,  and  he,  for  he,  etc.,  and  where  the  relative  is  in- 
diWsible. 

The  divisible  relative  merely  introduces  an  additional  fact,  and 
the  sentence  it  introduces  may  be  omitted  without  changing  the 
esseniiAl  statement.    Thus : 

There  were  very  few  peieengere  who  e«ioaped  wtthout  aerioiu  injury. 

Here  the  meaning  do^tends  ui)on  whether  trho  may  be  resolved 
into  and  ikey.     If  it  may  be,  the  sentence  may  read : 

There  were  Tery  few  pueeii«en,  and  th^y  eeo^ied  wtUioat  eertoaa  injury. 


CVlli  ADJECTIVE  SENTENCES.  [Part  I. 

In  the  best  usage,  this  meaning  would  be  expressed  by  the  sen- 
tence as  originally  written. 

But  if  the  who  may  not  be  so  resolved,  the  icho  should  be  thcU^ 
and  the  sentence  means  that  nearly  all  of  the  passengers  were 
injured  : 

There  were  tew  p—wengeni  that  eatmped  without  aerioiu  injary. 

This  distinction  in  the  use  of  that  and  of  who,  or  which,  is  so 
closely  associated  with  the  question  of  inserting  or  omitting  a 
comma  before  the  relative  clause,  that  we  have  treated  it  at  length 
under  the  head  of  Punctuation  (see  pages  289-298). 

Obs.  74. — Adjective  sentences  may  often  be  improved 
(a)  by  Resolution  of  the  llelative,  (b)  by  Composition  of 
the  Relative,  or  (c)  by  Inversion. 

Thus,  (a)  He  was  a  hero,  who  never  flinched.  For  who,  substi- 
tute ami  he.  (Omit  the  comma,  and  this  resolution  cannot  occur. 
See  page  289.) 

(b)  The  time  drew  near  at  which  the  Houses  must  reassemble. — 
Macaulay.     For  at  which,  substitute  when. 

(c)  The  man  who  wants  food  is  despei-ate.  Bead,  In  want  of 
food,  a  man  is  desperate. 

Obs.  76. — Relative  clauses  may  often  be  condensed 
into  adjectives  or  participles. 

Thus,  for  *'  The  wind  which  never  ceases,"  we  may  have  "The 
never-ceasing  wind." 

(3)  Adverb  Sentences  take  the  place  of  and  follow 
the  construction  of  an  adverb  (see  page  Ixxvi).  They 
may  describe  Place,  Time,  Manner,  or  Cause.  They  usu- 
ally modify  the  Predicate.     Thus : 


Their  ashes  flew. 
No  marble  tells  us  whither.— Cowper. 


Wlien  I  said  I  should  die  a  bachelor,  I  did  not  think  I  should 
live  till  I  were  married. — Much  Ado  about  Nothing. 


sbc.  il]  adverb  sentences.  CIX 

Exercise  XLIV. — Fill  the  followiDg  blanks  by  insert- 
ing adverb  sentences. 

Sample. — He  had  just  completed  his  work  when  his  life  ended. 

He  had  just  completed  his  work — .  It  was  not  known —  until — . 
We  are  often  beset  by  temptation  -.  The  righteous  shall  flourish — . 
Government  has  oflered  a  reward  for  the  rebel — .  He  will  suc- 
ceed -.  The  evils  of  war  are  great — .  The  king  fitted  out  an  ex- 
l>edition — . 

Obs.  76. — Adverb  sentences  are  sometimes  abbre- 
viated, either  by  omitting  tlie  verb,  or  by  changing  the 
verb  into  a  participle.     Thus  : 

When  young  he  learned  Hebrew,  and  though  he  afterward  for- 
got it  all,  he  died  repeating  the  23d  Psalm. 

The  participial  adverb  phrase  must  be  carefully  dis- 
Jinguished  from  the  paitieipial  adjective  phrase  (see  page 
xlviii).  It  is  necessary  only  to  remember  that  the  adjective 
always  modifies  a  noun  or  pronoun,  while  the  adverb  never 
modifies  a  noun.  In  the  sentence  thus  given  the  last  four 
words  do  not  describe  the  person,  but  they  tell  liow  he 
.lied,  and  therefore  perform  the  function  of  an  adverb. 

Obs.  77.— It  is  in  the  construction  of  complex  sen- 
tences that  one  has  occasion  most  frequently  to  recall  the 
principle  that  a  sentence  should  not  end  with  an  uneui- 
(♦hatic  word. 

Thus,  "  The  evidence  proves  how  kind  to  his  inferiors  he  is/* 
'  uould  read,  "  The  evidence  proves  how  kind  he  is  to  his  Infeiiors." 

Exercise  XLV. — Improve  the  following  sentence. 

Example.— In  my  neighborhood,  yesterday,  while  I  was  preach- 
ing, a  young  woman  died  in  a  beastly  state  of  intoxication. 

A  young  woman  died  in  my  neighborhood,  yesterday,  while  I 
was  preaching  in  a  beastly  state  of  intoxication. 

Obs.  78. — Like  all  other  sentences,  a  complex  sen- 


ex  COMPLEX  SENTENCES  f  Part  I. 

tence  must  have  one,  and  only  one  principal  subject  of 
tliought. 

The  leading  editorial  article  of  the  New  York  Herald  of  Septem- 
ber 28,  1881,  certainlj  intended  to  represent  the  best  literaiy  work 
of  which  that  journal  was  capable,  began  thus : 

With  the  buritil  by  the  lakm  aide  amoog  the  maple*  reddening  with  their  aotnmnal 
rhaiifrns  which  abound  to  cIm  SMMt  bamitifM  d^  of  that  vmi*  Wwleni  rtOtj  of  which  he 
wan  the  child,  the  oeramonlea  of  the  maaioiial  w«ek  i-inoe  Praeidant  Oarfleld'e  death  hare 
ooaic  to  a  doae,  and  the  paopla  reCorn  to  the  ordinary  tenor  of  their  occnpationa. 

Not  to  qieak  of  the  dooht  reraltliic  fram  the  podtkm  of  laMeA  as  to  whether  It  ia  the 
Wiyfi*  or  the  ekamget  that  ahooiid  (aee  pi^  cU),  the  whole  adjective  danae  mtrodooed 
by  wktck  is  onfortonate,  beoaoae  it  diatract*  attention  from  the  main  idea.  It  haa  no 
qjeciiil  bearing  npon  General  OarflehTa  faaeral  that  maplea  are  abondant  in  Cleveland, 
or  that  Cleveland  la  the  moat  beaottful  cl^  of  that  valley,  or  that  the  valley  itnlf  is  vast. 
To  a  majority  of  the  reodem  of  that  journal  these  three  etatements  are  nafamlliar,  and 
brintc  the  momentary  suriniae  o<  new  tmdU.  One  of  the  three,  that  Cleveland  is  the  mont 
beaatif  ul  city,  is  a  qoestion  of  judgment,  and  in  many  minds  absortM  all  the  interest  of 
the  sentence .  Hcnoe  the  unltgr  of  the  Motoaoe  is  detroyed.  Then  is  not  one  principal 
subject  of  thought,  but  there  are  two,  three,  four,  aooording  aa  theae  three  statements 
are  familiar  and  accepted. 

Again: 

Three  or  four  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  on  that  vast  territory  comprised  be- 
tween the  Ocean,  the  Pyrenees,  the  Mediterranean,  the  Alps,  and  the  Rhone,  liv«l  six  or 
seven  millions  of  men  a  bestial  life,  enclosed  in  dwellings  dark  and  low,  the  best  of  them 
bailt  of  wood  and  clay,  covered  with  branches  of  straw,  made  in  a  single  roand  piece, 
open  to  daylight  by  the  door  alone,  and  confnsedly  heaped  together  behind  a  rampart,  not 
inartistioally  composed,  of  timber,  earth,  and  Rtone,  wh  i-h  supported  and  protected  whut 
they  were  pleased  to  call  a  town. — Massom's  OuUlnet  of  lUe  llmory  of  France. 

The  inversion  of  lived  is  nnfortunate.  to  begin  with,  and  the  rdations  of  the  snbse- 
quent  clauses  are  as  difficult  to  trace  at;  those  of  the  children  in  a  family  where  a  widower 
marries  his  step- mother.  What  was  eticUt^ed  in  ilwellingt  dark  and  loic — the  men  or 
their  life?  "  The  best  of  them  built,"  etc.,  undoubtedly  refers  to  dwellings,  and  it  was 
the  dwellings  that  were  covered  with  branches  of  atrato,  but  it  mnst  have  been  tho 
branches  of  straw  that  were  made  in  a  tingle  rottnd  piece.  No ;  whatever  were  made  in 
a  single  round  piece  had  a  door  in  them,  and  that  must  have  been  the  dwellingn,  which 
were  also  heaped.  But  it  was  the  rampart  that  was  composed  ;  it  must  have  been  the 
timber^  earth,  atid  Uone  that  supported,  and  it  was  they  who  called  the  collection  a  town. 
&»  we  have  the  following  subjects,  all  in  one  sentence : 

Six  or  wven  millions  of  men  — live<l. 

'•         "       (probably)  — enclose*!. 

Dwellings  —dark. 

M  —low. 

"        (the  best  of  them)  —built. 

»»        /  »4      »4  »t    yj  — covered. 

«t        /  »4     tc  t.    y\  — mado 

— open. 
— heaped. 


"8 


Sec.  II.]  UNITY  ESSENTIAL.  CXl 

Rampart  — componed. 

Timber,  earth,  and  Btone  —supported. 

They  (su  or  aeven  millions  of  men)  — were  pleasetl  to  call. 

Here  one  subject  and  one  predicate  have  4  modifiers  of  the  second  class,  15  of  the 
third  class,  82  of  the  fourth  class,  18  of  the  fifth  class,  31  of  the  sixth  cIhkk,  7  of  the  seventh 
class,  and  3  of  the  eighth  fla««.  Think  of  a  sentence  having  21  modifiers  of  modifiers  of 
modifiers  of  modifiers  of  modifiers  I 

Once  more : 

KnowinK  on  the  one  aide  so  well  the  distingrnisbed  and  masterly  speakers  who,  to  your 
pleased  profit  and  to  their  own  enhanced  fame,  had  preceded  me  upon  this  stage  of  per- 
fect speech  and  pure^^t  song,  and  had  made  this  oration  at  once  a  high  honor  and  a  toil 
fraught  duty ;  and  knowing  u|H>n  the  other  side  even  better  at  once  my  native  iimbility  to 
stand  a  peer  of  such  f  imouB  forerunners,  and  also  the  stem,  distracting  prcHKiirc  of  cla- 
mant and  inceiwant  work  in  this  fresh  field  and  amid  a  thousand  thought- troubling  clrcum- 
stanoes  which  made  adequate  preparation  for  me  an  insutierable  imposHibility,  I  had  twice 
felt  it  my  plain  duty  to  put  away  from  me  the  delightful  labor  and  the  teni(>ting  reqtiest. 
—Rev.  John  I.  Macintosh,  D.D  ,  Oration  on  ♦'  The  M'hUe  Suntif/t  o'  I'uUiU  Worda.'^ 
Here,  out  i)f  one  hundred  and  twenty-one  words,  twenty-one  an-  ciualfymg  adjectives. 
The  tptakern  are  dinthyuWied  and  nuuierly ;  the  profit  is  pletixrd ;  this  HUige  is  of 
»pe4ch  and  song  :  and  the  itpeech  is  per/eit,  the  aong  purest.  Thi-*  oi  ation  is  (predica- 
tivrly)  not  only  an  honor  and  a  duty,  but  a  high  honor,  and  a  toil-/,  aught  duty.  The 
speaker's  inability  w  native,  his  fore-runnera,  though  already  called  dittinguiithed  snd 
miiHierly.  must  be  referred  to  Rufumoua,  his  pressure  is  alern  and  diatrw  ting,  his  wrt 
U  clamant  anil  incetaant,  his  fleld  is  fresh,  and  his  thousand  circumtt<tn>ea  are  tliought- 
iroubltng.  Preparation  is  for  him  so  meaningless  that  he  tacks  adequate  upon  it,  and 
intfM>»sibility  is  so  slight  an  obstacle  that  to  give  it  force  he  puts  before  it  insuperable. 
Hix  duty  is  plain,  hia  labor  is  delightful,  the  requeet  is  tempting.  His  first  definition  in 
rtyujology  would  be: 

Norx :  A  dummy  to  hang  adjectives  npon. 

Now,  to  find  fitting  adjectives  to  cover  the  snp{K>se<l  nakedness  of  all  these  nouns  (as 
^imo  ooncciteil  reformers  would  envelop  the  A|>ollo  Belvedere  in  a  plaid  ulster),  requires 
lH>th  a  broad  vocabulary  and  a  discriminating  jud.'ment.  The  author  lacks  both,  or  ho 
woidd  never  talk  of  pfea>>ed  profit  and  inauperable  iinpo'tiKi  ity.  Nor  i«  work  harder  in 
n  f\t'\t\  liccause  it  is/rwA.     Whnt  he  means  is  that  the  field  is  unarcuntomed. 

No  h'^vier  burden  can  fall  upon  a  would-be  orator  than  to  establish  a  sort  of  ideal 

rhythiii  and  conform  his  ideas  to  it,  instead  of  letting  his  ideiw  determine  the  form  of 

their  expn>SHion.     The  same  false  taste  that  leads  the  author  to  insert  su|terfluouM  ndjec- 

tive«.  l«^dH  him  to  double  his  phrases.     In  this  one  sentence  he  see  saws  to  your  profit 

ir  fame  ;  perfect  apeech  and  pureH  aong ;  high  hotmr  and  toil-fraught  duty : 

-ure  snd  th4ntgkt-troubling  rircnmatancea  :  delightful  la' or  and  tempting  re- 

■-  '  -Tilts,  an  It  always  raui«t  in  nonsense.    Take  the  last  pair,  for  instani-r. 

t,  the  requeat  or  the  labor?    To  gratify  an  unhealthy  rhytlimlcal  taMe, 

iito  nil  ub-'iird  nnt 'cllmax. 

Mient.     "  Knowing  on  the  one  side  so  wall  the  distingnWieit 

io'  know  them  on,  the  Hgi.t  side  or  the  left  side,  the  oatakle 

or  ihr  inHJ.!.'  ?     .Maiiir<H(ly  the  phrnne  on  the  one  aide  should  have  befrun  the  sentenoe, 

iiiHtcad  of  bt'ing  thrown  between  knowing  and  its  objcf!t.     Ro  air^n,  upon  the  olkm"  akit 

'     "        '  > -. »,.      .        *ilch  might  easily  be  distributed. 

-ntrace  is  a  compi«heaii>iveembodlm«nfc 
.  udied  with  abundant  profit. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Noun  Sentences,  p. 

Kx.  XXXVI.  — N  rtn<l  a«lvprb  M^nU^nces,  p.  xcvl 

Ex.  XXXVII.- \  .  ,.    xcvi. 

Obs.  61. — Connecting  i>jitiiii»-  unn.  ct^sarv,  p.  xcvii. 
ObB.  62.  —  •'  That  '  Bometimes  omitted,  p.  xcvii. 
Obe.  68. — Dependent  cl«nw»«  difttinct  fiom  independent,  p.  xcvii. 

Ex.  XXXVIII.- -Changing  from  direct  to  indirect  mode  ot 
speech,  p.  xcvii. 

Ex.  XXXIX.— Changing  from  indirect  to  direct  form,  p.  c. 

Adjective  Sentences,  p.  ci. 

Ex.  XL.  — Inserting  adjective  sentences,  p.  ci. 
0\>s  r»4. — Relative  nominative  omitted,  p.  ciL 
Obs.  05.  —  "And  '*  before  adective  sentence,  p.  cii. 
Obs.  66. — Relative  to  be  near  antet^ent,  p.  cii. 
Obs.  67. — Pronouns  to  be  near  nouns  to  which  thej  refer,  p.  cii. 

Ex.  XLL — Arrangement  of  relative  clauses,  p.  ciii. 
Obe.  68.  —Antecedent  never  an  ad  ective,  p  civ. 
Obs.  69. — Antecedent  implied  in  pos.sessive,  p.  civ. 
Obe.  70. — Ambiguity  of  antecedent,  noun  or  clause,  p.  civ. 

Ex.  XLII. — Antecedent  noun  or  clause  ?  p.  cv. 
Obs.  71. — Antecedent  often  repeated   p.  cvi 
Obs.  72. — *•  WTiich-cra't  '  to  l>e  avoided,  p.  cvi. 

Ex.  XLIII. — Which  with  heterogeneous  clauses,  p.  cvii. 
Obs.  73.— Distinction  of  '*  Who  '  and  '"Ihat,"  p.  cvii 
Obs.  74. — Resolution,  composition,  inversion,  p.  cviii. 
Obs.  75. — Relative  clauses  condensed,  p.  cviii. 

Adverb  Sentences,  p.  cviii. 

Ex.  XLI v.— Inserting  adverb  sentences,  p.  cix. 
Obs.  76. — Abbreviation  by  omission  or  change,  p.  cix. 
Obs.  77. — Ending  with  unemphatic  word,  p   cix. 

Ex.  XLV. — Improvement  in  construction,  p.  cix. 
Obs.  78. — One  subject,  and  only  one,  p  cix. 


SECTION  THIRD. 

COMPOUND    SENTENCES. 

A  Compound  Sentence  contains  two  or  more 
principal  and  co-ordiuate  assertions  ;  as,  I  came,  saw,  con- 
quered. 

NoT«.— For  convenience,  *'i("  sentencea,  often  called  complex,  are  here  treated  an 
compound. 

Obs.  79. — The  members  of  a  compound  sentence 
must  have  a  natural  and  perceptible  connection  in  thought. 

Tlius,  The  procession  was  very  fine,  and  nearly  two  miles  long, 
as  was  also  the  report  of  Dr.  Perry,  the  chaplain. 

Here  the  reporter  mentally  connected  the  procession  and  the 
report  by  thinking  of  them  both  anjine,  and  endeavoring  to  say  so. 
But,  except  as  an  exi)ression  of  approval,  the  adjective  ^we  lias  no 
common  application  to  a  procession  and  to  a  report,  and  though 
no  ambiguous  clansr>  iiiten'eued,  the  members  of  the  sentence 
would  be  incongruous.  The  last  clause  should  therefore  be  a  sep- 
arate sentence,  something  like  this  :  The  report  of  Dr.  Perry,  tho 
chaplain,  was  able  and  comprehensive. 

He  expired.  .  .  .  having  enjoyed,  by  the  benefit  of  hi«  nirimen,  n  ;_■  w  i 
healthy  life,  and  aKoiitle  and  eauy  death.— Johnsom^r  Life  of  Jforin. 

This  extraordinary  person  not  only  enjoyed  his  death,  but  first 
died  and  then  expired.  — Hall. 

At  the  upper  Methodist  conference,  at  Marion,  the  other  day,  the  Rev.  R.  W.  Coatee, 
In  making  a  report  of  his  etawardahlp,  vald  he  had  paewed  three  very  mooeMfnl  and  pleaa- 
ant  yeara  nt  Le  Clair,  having  ha-l  an  unusual  number  of  faneral  wrvioM  dnrlng  that 
tima.— Aoiix  Ctty  Jimmal. 


CXIV  COMPOUND  SBNTENCB8.  [Pabt  L 

Of  oonne  jndgmeDt  will  differ  as  to  whether  the  connection  of 
thought  in  two  sentences  is  sufficient  to  warrant  their  combination 
into  one.     For  instance : 

I  am  an  mriy  riaar,  bat  mj  wtfa  la  a  Prt«bjt«rlan.-A.  Wako. 

"  Hare  yoaerar  been  moch  at  aea  f  ** 

**  Why,  no,  not  aiaolly :  bat  my  brothar  marriad  a  oanal-oaptain's  danglilar.** 


*'  Why,  no,  not  anotfy ;  bat  my  motlMf^  maktan  name  waa  PmMh.** 

Marshal  Soult  was  aoonstomed  to  saj  of  a  Spanish  painting 
which  he  had  compelled  two  persons  to  sorrender  on  iiain  of 
death :  **  That  picture  I  value  highly ;  it  saved  the  lives  of  two 
persons."  This  is  almost  equal  to  the  school-bo j's  statement  in  a 
composition,  that  pins  have  saved  the  lives  of  a  good  many  people ; 
being  asked  how,  he  replied,  **  By  their  not  swallowing  them/' 

Priaooer  at  the  bar,  natara  ha^  endowed  yoa  with  a  good  edaration  and  rmpectaMe 
family  oonneetlonm  laatand  of  wkkh  yon  go  aroond  ahooft  the  ooantry  ateRling  doeka. 
A  Weafeern  |iaper  annoanced  a*  foUowa :  "  Mr.  Maffoire  will  wash  himnelf  befoce  he 
oAoe  of  ahcrifl.**    ThU  made  Magnire  angry,  and  he  demanded  a  rptracUon, 
Ida  thna:  ** Mr.  Mjigoire  wqneiii  na  to  deny  oar  •taiement  that  he 
will  waih  himaelf  befbre  he  aanunea  the  office  of  aherlff."    Oddly  eooagb.thii  only  en- 
raged Maguire  the  moie.    Some  peofde  are  ao  hard  to  pleaae. 

It  is  not  the  form  of  the  compound  sentence  that  makes  the  in- 
consecutivenees  of  two  thoughts  manifest.  This  may  be  just  as 
marked  in  successive  single  sentences.     Thus : 

One  of  the  pa— engeri  on  the  iU-fated  Metia,  at  the  time  of  the  disaster,  was  an  ex- 
ceedingly nenroas  roan,  who,  while  Duating  in  the  water,  imtigined  how  lils  friends 
woald  acquaint  his  w  fe  of  his  fate.    Saved  at  last,  he  rushed  to  the  telegraph  office  and 

Mnt  thia  measage :  '*  Dear  P ,  I  am  saved.    Break  it  gently  to  my  wife ! ''— Spring- 

JUU  R^ubtiean, 

The  Hon.  Newton  Bateman,  LL.D.,  has  accepted  the  presidency  of  Knox  College, 
Oaleftbnrg,  IIL,  but  will  not  enter  upon  it8  duties  till  neor  ihe  close  of  the  academic  year. 
Tkit  givet  great  •oU^fatMon  to  tke  friends  of  the  college,— CoUege  Courant. 

The  church  was  erected  durinK  the  ministry  of  the  Rev.  Klihu  Whitcomb ;  and  the 
dedication  sermon  was  preached  February  IS,  1806.  It  waa  ninety  feet  in  length  and 
fifty-four  in  breadth. — Newspaper  in  Saco^  Me. 

A  young  lady  went  to  a  drug  store  for  a  preacription. 

"  How  much  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Fifty  cents,"  said  the  clerk. 

"But  I  have  only  forty-five  cents  with  me,"  replied  the  customer;  "canH  you  let 
nte  have  it  for  that  ?  ^^ 

"  No,  ma^am,^  said  the  clerk,  '•  but  you  can  pay  me  five  cents  when  you  come  in 
again." 

"  But  snppoae  I  were  to  die  ?  "  said  the  lady,  jocularly. 


SBC.  IIL]  UNITY   OF   THOUGHT.  CXV 

•'  Well,  it  wouldn't  be  a  very  (P'eat  low,"  wa«  the  smiling  response. 

The  BOiilingr  clerk  gathered  from  the  indignant  flush  on  the  ladyV  f«oe  that  he  had 
been  miBonderBtood,  but  before  he  could  aHKure  hur  that  it  -^as  the  little  balance  that 
would  be  no  great  Iosh,  she  was  beyond  the  sound  uf  his  voice. 

Exercise  XLVI.  —  Resolve  the  following  sentences 
into  simpler  ones,  so  far  as  necessary  to  preserve  unity  of 
thought. 

Example. — The  dog,  which  had  previously  bitten  his  wife,  died 
on  the  Monday  following. 

The  dog  had  previously  bitten  his  wife,  and  on  the  Monday 
following  it  died. 

The  town  farm-house  and  alms-house  h|ive  been  carried  on  the 
past  year  to  our  reasonable  satisfaction,  especially  the  alms-house, 
at  which  there  have  been  an  unusual  amount  of  sickness  and  three 
deaths. 

Any  person  driving  over  this  bridge  in  a  faster  pace  than  a 
walk  shall,  if  a  white  person  be  fined  five  dollars,  and  if  a  negro, 
receive  twenty-five  lashes,  half  the  i>enalty  to  be  bestowed  on  the 
informer. 

Wanted,  by  an  apothecary,  an  assistant  to  take  an  interest  in  a 
small  first-clas-s  trade  and  in  a  quiet  family. 

Even  Mrs.  H.  B.  Stowe,  in  her  great  work,  "Uncle  Tom,"  and 
in  other  writings,  uses  this  phrase  incessantly,  and  although,  per- 
haps, not  exactly  a  model  of  composition,  her  authority  is  of  some 
weight,  as  she  puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  educated  as  well  as  of 
illiterate  people. — Schele  de  Vekr. 

Chaucer  seems  to  affect  monosyllabic  rhymes  in  verse,  and  in- 
deed seldom  employs  double  ones,  unless  we  count  as  such  words 
in  e  final,  which  perhaps  we  should  do,  for  there  is  no  doubt  but 
tliis  letter  was  sounded  in  CMiaucer's  time,  as  it  is  now  in  the  cog- 
nate languages  and  in  French  verse.— Marsh. 

There  are  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  trees,  some  furnishing 
us  with  wood  for  common  purposes,  such  as  flooring  for  our 
houses  and  frames  for  the  windows,  while  others  afford  us  more 
beautiful  wood,  which,  when  polished,  is  made  into  tables  and 
chairs  and  various  articles  of  furniture. 

Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou  knowest  not  what  a 


CXVI  COMPOUND  8ENTENCBS.  (PART  L 

day  may  bring  forth  ;  and  for  the  same  reason,  despair  not  of  to- 
morrow, for  it  may  bring  forth  good  as  well  as  evil ;  which  is  a 
ground  for  not  vexing  thyself  with  imaginary  fears  ;  for  the  black 
cloud,  which  is  regarded  with  so  much  dread,  may  pass  harmlessly 
by,  or  may  find  thee,  before  it  breaks,  the  tenant  of  that  lowly 
mansion  which  no  storms  can  touch. 

The  Britons,  daily  harassed  by  the  Picts,  were  forced  to  call  in 
the  Saxons  for  their  defence,  who,  after  having  repelled  the  in- 
Taders,  turned  their  arms  against  the  Britons  themselves,  drove 
them  into  the  most  remote  and  mountainous  parts  of  the  kingdom, 
and  reduced  the  greater  part  of  the  island  under  their  dominion, 
so  that  in  the  course  of  a  century  and  a  half  the  countiy  became 
almost  wholly  Saxon  in  customs,  religion,  and  language. 

LMt  ymr  a  papar  wm  broutbt  here  from  England,  called  "  A  Dialogue  between  tha 
Ardibbdiop  of  Cantcrtrary  and  Mr.  Himrin*  **  which  we  ordered  to  be  burned  by  the 
oommon  hangman,  as  it  wdl  deHcrvml,  tbongb  we  bare  no  more  to  do  with  HiR  Graoe  of 
Oanterbury  than  yon  hare  with  the  An^bi»hop  of  DnMIn,  whom  yon  tamely  milTer  to  be 
almwd  openly  and  by  name  by  that  paltry  raacal  of  an  obaervator ;  and  lately  upon  an 
alEalr  wherein  he  bad  no  concern ;  I  mean  the  hoeineM  of  the  mieaiooary  of  Drogheda, 
wherein  an  exoellcut  primate  wan  engaged,  and  did  nothing  but  according  to  law  and 
diHretion.  — Swirr. 

The  naoal  aoeepteUoa  takes  Profit  and  neamre  f6r  two  different  things,  and  not  only 
oalls  the  fbllowers  or  Totariee  of  thrm  by  the  eereral  namea  of  Bosy  or  Idle  men,  but  dis- 
tingnishes  the  facoltiea  of  the  mind  that  are  conversant  about  them,  calling  the  opera- 
tions  of  the  first  Wisdom,  and  of  the  other  Wit ;  which  i*  a  Saxon  word,  naed  to  expres « 
what  the  Spaniards  and  Italians  call  Imgenio,  and  the  French  Esprit^  both  from  the 
Latin ;  thoogh  I  think  Wit  more  particalarly  signifies  that  of  Poetry,  as  may  occur  in 
remarks  on  Runic  language.— Sia  WtixiAM  Tkmplk. 

To  this  succeeded  tha'.  liceniionoieM  which  entered  with  tlie  Restoration,  and  from 
infecting  onr  religion  and  morals  fell  to  corrupt  our  language  (which  last  was  not  likely 
to  be  much  improved  by  those  who  at  that  Ume  made  up  the  court  of  King  Charlcx  the 
Second  :  either  such  who  had  followed  him  in  his  banishment,  or  who  had  been  alto- 
gether convemmt  in  the  dialect  of  those  fanatic  times  or  young  mm  who  had  been  edu- 
cated in  the  same  company) ;  so  that  the  court  (which  had  used  to  be  the  standard  of 
propriety  and  correctness  of  speech)  was  then  (and,  I  think,  hath  ever  since  coniinned^ 
the  worst  school  in  En^lnnd  for  that  accomplishment :  and  so  will  remain  till  better  caro 
be  taken  in  the  education  of  our  younR  nobility,  that  they  may  set  out  into  the  world 
wiUi  some  fomidation  of  literature  in  order  to  qualify  them  for  patterns  of  politeness. — 


Obs.  80.— In  the  members  of  a  compound  sentence 
the  construction  must  not  be  changed  without  good  rea- 
son. 


sbcul]       uniformity  op  construction.  CXVU 

Exercise  XLVII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example.— 1  should  have  sent  the  brooches  before,  but  have 
been  unwell. 

The  brooches  would  have  been  sent  before,  but  have  been  un- 
well.— Notifrotn  Jeiwller  to  Dean  Alford. 

Mrs.  A.'s  compliments  to  Mrs.  B.,  and  begs  to  say  that  C.  lived 
with  her  a  year  and  found  her  resi)ectable,  steady,  and  honest. 

R.  C.  begs  to  aijologize  for  not  acknowledging  P.  O.  order  at 
the  time  (but  was  from  home),  and  thus  got  delayed,  misplaced, 
and  forgotten. 

Gentlemen's  materials  made  up  and  waited  on  at  their  own 
homes. — Tailor's  A dvertiseinent. 

It  requireth  few  talents  to  which  most  men  are  not  bom,  or  at 
least  may  not  acquire. — Snvtfi. 

A  Methodist  church  in  Baltimore  advertised  that  it  would  pay 
ten  dollars  reward  ' '  for  the  apprehension  and  conviction  of  the 
person  or  persons  who  defaced  the  parsonage  steps,  or  for  any 
mutilation  of  church  property." 

Tickets  once  nipped  and  defaced  at  the  barriers,  and  the  i>as- 
sengers  admitted  to  the  platform,  will  be  delivered  up  to  the  com- 
jiany  in  the  event  of  the  holder  subsequently  retiring,  and  cannot 
be  recognized  for  rea<lmission.  (Here  if  "  liaN^ng  admitted  pas- 
sengers" be  substituted  for  '*  the  passengers  admitted,"  the  sub- 
ject will  be  the  same  throughout,  and  though  the  sentence  will  be 
awkward  it  will  be  perspicuous.) 

The  following  story  went  the  round  of  the  German  papers :  On 

the  morning  of  the  recent  eclipse  Capt.  von  S ,  of  the Fu- 

sileeni,  issued  the  following  verbal  order  to  his  company,  through 
his  Sergeant-Major,  to  be  communicated  to  the  men  after  forenoon 
ixirade  : 

ThU  aftomooQ  a  aoUr  ecUpae  will  tnke  place.  At  3  o'clock  the  whole  comtwny  will 
parade  in  the  bwmcdc  yard.  FutiKtie  jaokutu  and  captc  I  »hall  explain  the  eclipao  to 
the  men.    Shookl  it  rain,  they  will  aaaemble  in  the  drill  ahed. 

The  Sergeant-Major,  having  set  down  his  commanding  officer's 
iuHtnictions  in  writing,  as  he  had  undei'stcxMl  them,  formed  the 
coniiiany  into  hollow  s  {uarn  at  the  conohision  of  the  morning 

drill,  and  read  his  veision  of  the  order  to  them,  thus  ; 


CX.V111  COMPOUND  8BNTEXCB8.  [Pabt  I. 

This  aftMiioon  a  aolar  •oUpM  vfU  tek*  place  in  the  barrack  \  ard  bj  order  of  the 
Oa|>tain,  and  will  be  attended  by  the  wliole  oompanj,  in  fatigue  jackets  and  cape.  The 
Oaptain  frill  oondact  the  aolar  eclipee  in  peraon.  Slioald  it  rain,  the  edipae  will  take 
place  in  the  drill  lihed.— A'.  >'.  5mm. 

Obs.  81. — Correlative  conjunctions,  as  where  not 
only  precedes  hut^  hut  also,  or  hU  even,  should  each  be 
followed  by  the  same  part  of  speech. 

Thus,  "The  sportsman  was  not  only  huutiug  all  the  morning, 
but  all  the  afternoon/*  should  read,  *'  The  sportsman  was  hunting 
not  only  all  the  morning,  but  all  the  afternoon.** 

Exercise  XL VI II.— Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Excnnple, — I  estimated  myself  neither  high  nor  lowly. 

I  neither  estimated  myself  high  nor  lowly. — Ds  Quincet. 

He  not  only  gave  me  advice  but  also  help. 

liothair  was  unaffectedly  g^tified  at  not  only  receiving  his 
friends  at  his  own  castle,  but  under  these  circumstances  of  inti- 
macy. — Disraeli. 

He  not  only  spoke  forcibly  but  tastefully,  and  not  only  this, 
too,  before  a  small  audience,  but  in  a  large  public  meeting  also, 
and  not  only  were  his  speeches  successful,  but  also  worthy  of 
success. 

You  are  not  obliged  to  take  any  money  which  is  not  gold  or  sil- 
ver ;  not  only  the  halfpence  or  farthings  of  England,  but  of  any 
other  country. — Swift. 

Aristotle  would  be,  indeed,  the  sorriest  plagiary  on  record,  were 
the  thefts  believed  of  him  by  his  Oxford  votaries  not  false  only, 
but  ridiculous. 

Psychical  states  that  often  recur  in  a  given  order  not  only  be- 
come increasingly  coherent,  but  the  transitions  from  each  to  the 
next  become  more  rapid. 

Because  here  the  similitude  is  not  only  pleasant,  but  the  pat- 
tern more  perfect. — Blair. 

This  class  is  believed  to  be  not  only  very  limited  in  number, 
but  of  this  number  very  few  ever  commit  capital  crime. — y.  A. 
Review. 

Would  neither  have  b(  en  so  neat  nor  so  clear  as  it  is  by  the 
pi-esent  const ruclion. — Blair. 


8bo.  III.]  USES  OF  CONJUNCTIONS.  CXlx 

Because  we  neither  know  the  nature  of  our  own  ideas  nor  of  the 
soul.— BiiAiB. 

A  petty  constable  will  neither  act  cheerfully  or  \si8ely.  (A  dou- 
ble mistake  :  neither  must  always  be  followed  by  nor.) 

By  greatness  I  do  not  only  mean  the  bulk  of  any  single  object, 
but  the  largeness  of  the  whole  view. — Addison. 

They  will,  too,  not  merely  interest  children,  but  grown-up  per- 
sons.—  Westminster  Review. 

Their  language  frequently  amounts  not  only  to  bad  sense,  but 
nonsense. — KirklianCs  Grammar. 

For  position  of  the  adverb  not,  when  alone,  see  page  Ixxviii. 

Obs.  82. — In  general,  only  the  same  parts  of  speech 
should  be  united  by  conjunctions  in  the  same  construction. 

Thus,  Campbell  says :  **  Personal  relations  are  of  various  kinds. 
They  are  consanguinity,  affinity,  friendshij),  acquaintance,  being 
fellow-citizens,  countrymen,  of  the  same  name,  religion,  occupa- 
tion, and  innumerable  others."  Here  we  have  firet  four  abstract 
nouns  ;  then  a  participle  followed  by  (1)  two  class  nouns,  (2)  three 
preposition  phrases,  and  finally  a  x>ronoun.  The  sentence  is  not 
an  easy  one  to  reconstruct,  but  the  following  form  escapes  the 
violation  of  unity  : 

They  are  of  oonaangainity,  affinity,  friendship,  acquaintance,  citixenship,  nation- 
ality, ■arname,  reliKion,  occuiiation,  and  innumerable  otherH. 

Exercise  XLIX. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — Their  success  or  failure  indicated,  etc. 

Their  success  or  otherwise  indicated,  etc. —  Westminstfr  Keciew, 

His  style  is  awkward  and  slovenly,  that  of  his  antagonist  re- 
markably terse  and  clear,  and  bearing  witness  to  a  sensitiveness  of 
ear  and  taste  which  are  glaringly  deficient  in  his  opponent. —  West- 
minster Jieview. 

We  saw  it  thrown  through  the  window  and  flat  on  the  ground. 

She  was  a  woman  of  taste,  and  wearing  a  green  velvet  dress. 

The  fact  is  well  known  and  obvious. 

Obs.  83.  -The  use  of  ''And''  indicates  that  the  new 
statement  is  superadded  to,  and  distinct  from,  the  pre- 


CXX  COMPOUND  SI  N  TIVCES.  (Part  I. 

vious ;  its  omission,  usually  tliat  tlic  new  statement  is  in 
substance  the  sanie  as  the  j)ievi<uis,  or  a  mere  varying  of 
tlie  expression. 

Thus,  "Ideas  quickly  fade,  and  often  vanish  quite  out  of  the 
undofHtauding,**  would  l>e  better,  "  Ideas  quickly  fade ;  they  often 
vanish  quite  out  of  the  underatanding.** 

He  WM  (kvply  oonveiMuit  with  th«  MMl•llt^  boCh  Graak  «ad  LAtta.  and  he  borrowed 
boldlj  fMm  tben ;  tbw  fa  waw  »  pwt  ar  hktcriMi  auMiOfftbe  llonun  muthun  whom 
he  han  not  tmn  fated  in  Sejanos  ami  CaUUoe. 

The  and  in.  the  first  member  is  strictly  correct ;  borrowing 
boldly  is  a  fact  additional  to  being  conversant  with.  Equally 
proper  is  the  omission  of  the  conjunction  at  the  commencement  of 
the  second  member,  which  repeats  in  greater  detail  the  same  act 
of  borrowing.— Bain. 


The  madumitm  of  ivnteDoes  vamj  tmtitt  mmntf  fnrtber  bj  tke  «oiiMioiia  nee  or  o«ii»- 
■fan  of  Um  oonjnnct  Ive  bpRinniiig.  I  have  joM  observed  that  the  word  *'  and  **  probablj 
begins  more  aenU-nces  in  the  iwodoctionB  of  inexperienced  write  s  than  any  other  in  the 
language  This  act  giveM  im»ortanoe  to  intelligent  ciitidnn  of  all  fonns  of  oonjnnctive 
beginning.  Let  it  be  obenrei^  then,  that  the  eonjonctiTe  beginning  is  forcible  if  the 
■oooeaidon  <tf  thought  raqaircs  it.  Often  it  dues  so.  Something  \»  needed  to  express  ur 
to  hint  the  fact  of  oontinuitj.  T  e  idea  of  inferenc**,  or  of  other  sequence,  or  of  quali- 
flcation,  or  of  contraM,  fa  to  the  r-oint  Instinctively,  then,  you  link  hcntence  to  sentence 
by  beginning  the  second  of  the  two  with  "  but  "  or  "and,"  or  an  adverbial  term  «hii-h 
has  a  ooujunctiTe  effect,  like  "  yet "  or  '*  nevertheless."  What  in  the  exact  force  of  the 
conjunctive  beginning  ?  It  is  to  bridge  over  the  period  preceding.  Sometimes  energy  re- 
quires that. 

But  without  such  demand  nf  thought,  the  conjunctive  beginning  U  meaningless,  and 
therefore  vapid.  Did  you  never  hear  an  inferior  conversationnliiit  begin  sentence  after 
sentence  with  the  corrupt  formula  "und-er  "  ?  That  indicates  momentary  vacuity  of  mind. 
The  speaker  is  on  the  hunt  for  something  to  say.  The  "andnr"  has  no  conjunctive 
force.  Not  once  in  a  score  of  times  does  the  connection  demand  a  reminder  of  what  went 
before.  This  mongrel  expression  is  only  an  interjectional  expletive,  by  w  hich  the  speaker 
holds  on  to  the  right  of  utterance  while  his  mind  is  explorinj;.  To  compare  it  with  a 
thing  on  a  level  with  it  in  dignity,  it  is  like  a  travelling-bag  which  yon  leave  to  represent 
you  when  for  a  moment  you  leave  yonr  seat  in  a  rail -car.  Precisely  such  is  the  needless 
useof  the  conjunctive  beginning  in  written  dis^course.  In  the  succession  of  thought  it  has 
no  conjunctive  force.    Therefore  style  it  is  not.     It  is  language  not  freighted  by  sense. 

Oral  delivery  may  be  sadly  weighteil  by  the  conjunctive  bot:inning.  Punctuation  m8.y 
remedy  it  to  the  eye  in  print ;  but,  orally  delivered,  such  sentences  lose  their  only  sign  of 
separation.  The  period  is  bridged  over  when  you  do  not  mean  it,  and  y'lur  style  runs 
together.  Two,  even  three,  possibly  four,  short  sentences,  which  for  force  of  utterance 
ought  to  be  short,  and  ought  to  be  uttered  with  crisp  delivery,  are  .stretched  into  one  long 
one  :  made  long  by  that  most  flattering  expedient  of  composition,  a  mechanical  coupling 
of  ideas.     The  conjunctive  beginning,  therefore,  should  be  intelligently  used.    Use  it 


SBC.  III.]  USES  OF  "AND"  AND  OF  "OR."  CXXl 

w'uen  you  meau  It.    Drop  it  when  it  is  only  the  sign  of  vacuum.    Common  etiquette  re- 
qnim  yoa  to  ooooeal  •  yawn.— Phclfm. 

Obs.  84.— Avoid  the  use  of  "  Or"  where  tliere  is 
neither  disjunction  nor  alternation. 

Thus,  •'  This  angelic  coronet  shed  light  alike  upon  the  chani- 
bere  of  a  cottage  or  a  palace."  Here  the  use  of  alike  shows  that 
the  cottage  and  the  palace  are  united  in  the  idea,— not  con- 
trasted. The  sentence  should  read,  "  The  angelic  coronet  shed 
light  alike  upon  the  chambers  of  a  cottage  and  a  palace." 

Again,  "Notwithstanding  all  the  attempts  which  have  been 
made  to  e.Kplain  this  away  or  even  to  turn  it  to  the  poet's  credit, 
it  is  surely  a  great  defect  in  him." 

Here,  if  the  author  intends  to  produce  emphasis  by  the  use  of 
or  epen,  he  might  say,  **  to  explain  this  away,  nay  more,  to  turn  it 
to  the  poet's  credit." 

Had  the  first  clause  been  negative,  nor  even  would  have  pro- 
duced emphasis.  In  the  following  quotations  from  Shakspere 
(the  obsolete  double  negative  having  been  removed),  it  will  be 
seen  that  nor  ever  is  a  much  stronger  expression  than  and  never. 

I  never  was,  nor  ever  will  be  false. 
This  F^ngland  never  ilid,  nor  ever  nball, 
Lie  at  the  pruud  foot  uf  a  conqueror. 

But  this  emphasis  does  not  extend  to  or  ever. 

"  Passengers  are  cautioned  not  to  open  a  carriage  door  or  to  put 
their  heads  out  of  the  windows,  when  the  train  is  in  motion."  The 
placing  of  not  here  commands  both  infinitives,  as  is  meant.  But 
or  is  an  awkward  and  unmanageable  word  ;  it  supposes  a  preced- 
ing eitheTy  and  does  not  tally  well  with  a  previous  not.  Better  to 
repeat  the  yiot,  or  else  make  it  neitlier  and  nor:  not  to  open  a 
carriage  door,  and  not  to  put  their  heads  ;  "  "  neither  to  open,  nor 
to  put."  Otlierwise  :  ♦*  While  the  train  is  in  motion,  passengers 
sliould  neither  open  the  carriage  doors,  nor  put  their  heads  out  of 
the  windows." — Bain. 

Exercise  L. — Correct  tlie  following  sentences. 

Krample. —  " arising  from  our  hopes  and  our  fears." 

All  that  part  of  our  happiness  arising  from  our  hopes  or  oar 
fears  depends  on  imagination. 


cxxii  (OMPOUND  SENTENCES.  [Part  L 

Obs.  86. — Make  it  always  clear  whetlier  "6>r"  is 
used  alternatively  or  disjunctively. 

In  ita  alternative  nae  or  introdocee  a  synonymous  or  explana- 
tory oxpression ;  as,  *' He  is  a  lientenant,  or  subordinate  officer.'* 
In  its  diAJanctive  use,  it  introduoes  a  contradictory  expression  ;  as, 
"  He  is  a  liontenant  or  a  captain." 

It  will  l)e  noticed  that  in  its  disjunctive  use,  or  is  followed  by 
the  article  repeated.  GampbelFs  rule  is  as  follows :  ''If  the  first 
noun  follows  an  article,  or  a  preposition,  or  both,  the  article  or 
the  preposition,  or  both,  should  be  repeated  before  the  second, 
when  the  two  nouns  are  intended  to  denote  different  things ;  and 
should  not  be  repeated  when  they  denote  the  same  thing.  If  there 
be  neither  article  nor  pre|M>sition  before  the  first,  and  if  it  be  the 
intention  of  the  writer  to  use  the  particle  or  disjunctively,  let  the 
first  noun  be  preceded  by  either ^  which  will  infallibly  ascertain 
the  meaning.  On  the  contrary,  if,  in  such  a  dubious  case,  it  be 
his  design  to  use  the  particle  as  a  tx>pulative  to  synonymous  word;*, 
the  piece  will  rarely  sustain  a  material  injury  by  his  omitting  both 
the  conjunction  and  the  synonyma." 

Bain  gives  several  illustrations,  as  follows  : 

In  a  sentence  alreatly  quoteil  (page  cxx)  there  occurs  the 
phrase — "there  is  scarce  a  poet  or  historian  among  the  Roman  au- 
thors.** The  weakening  effect  of  the  use  of  or  for  synonymous 
phrases  is  felt  here.  But  for  our  knowledge  of  the  meanings,  wc 
might  easily  suppose  thatpo«/  and  historian  were  two  names  for  the 
same  person  or  class.  To  bring  out  the  alternation  of  meaning  or 
subject,  we  must  say,  "  scarcely  either  a  poet  or  a  historian ; " 
"scarcely  a  Roman  author,  either  poet  or  historian."  Or  put  in 
positive  form — "nearly  all  the  Roman  authors,  poets  and  histori- 
ans alike." 

"They  who  have  no  real  feeling  always  pitch  their  expressions 
too  high  or  too  low."  The  or  is  inadequate  to  the  occasion. 
There  is  an  alternative  contrast  amounting  to  opposition.  Say, 
"either  too  high,  or  else  too  low."  More  decided  thus :  "They 
that  want  real  feeling  never  pitch  their  expressions  at  the  right 
p^int ;  they  are  either  too  high,  or  else  too  low." 

"  The  thing  was  done  by  force  or  fraud."    li  force  &nd  fraud  are 


Sec.  III.l  rSES  OF  "OR,"  AND  OF  "IF."  cXXlll 

to  be  marked  out  as  two  distinct  facts,  one  of  them  (and  not  the 
other)  being  the  instrument  assigned,  we  shoukl  at  least  repeat 
the  preposition— "by  force  or  by  fraud;"  the  alternation  being 
fm-ther  improvable,  as  in  the  other  instances,  by  else. 

[It  will  be  observed  that  Bain  uses  the  term  alternative  where 
the  distinction  above  made  would  require  disjumtive.  He  speaks 
of  alternative  in  the  sense  above  given  as  "a  synonymous,  or  ex- 
planatory alternative."] 

It  may  be  added  that  the  distinction  may  be  further  made  in 
punctuation.  The  expression  introduced  by  or  alternative,  being 
explanatory,  would  be  set  off  by  commas  (see  page  271).  ^Vhere 
this  does  not  sufficiently  mark  the  character  of  the  phi-ase,  it  may 
be  put  in  parenthesis.     Thus : 

They  were  both  much  more  ancient  among  the  Persians  than 
Zoroaster  (or  Zerdusht). 

As  for  such  animals  as  are  mortal  (or  noxious),  we  have  a  right 
to  destroy  them. 

Obs.  86. — "i)^"  clauses  should  be  avoided  except 
emphaticiilly  to  express  that  the  action  of  the  predicate 
hangs  upon  an  uncertain  event. 

Thus,  "If  stones  are  dropped  into  water,  they  will  sink,"  is 
more  simply  expressed,  "Stones  sink  in  water."  "If  you  will 
come,  I  shall  be  delighted,"  is  better  thus  :  "  Your  coming  will  de- 
light me."  *'  If  it  would  lain,  we  should  get  much  good  ; "  read, 
"Rain  would  do  much  good." 

On  the  other  hand,  to  say,  "If  he  is  guilty,  his  punishmont  will 
\ye  severe,"  expresses  a  doubt  of  the  issue  which  disui)]H'rtrs  in, 
"  His  guilt  will  be  followed  by  severe  punishment." 

Frequently  the  imi)erative  may  with  advantage  be  jsuhstituted 
for  an  (/'clause.  Thus  :  "  If  you  search  through  history,  you  will 
tind  — "  may  become,  "  Search  through  history  and  you  will  find — " 
etc. 

ExKRCiSE  LI. — Vary  tlie  conditional  expression  in  the 
following  sentence. 

Krample. — To  l)e  large  uiul  liberal,  the  scholar's  mind  must 
come  in  contact  with  other  minds. 


CXXIV  COMPOUND   SENTENCFIS.  [Pabt  I. 

The  mind  of  the  scholar,  if  yoa  would  have  it  large  and  liberal, 
must  come  in  contact  with  other  miuds. — Lonofsllow. 

Obs.  87. — In  conditional  sentences,  the  "jf"  clause 
must  be  kept  distinct.  It  should  usually  come  first. 
Thus  in 

"  The  lesson  intended  to  be  taught  by  these  manoenvres  will  be 
lost,  if  the  plan  of  operations  lb  laid  down  too  definitely  before- 
hand, and  the  affiur  degenerates  into  a  mere  review. ' 

The  meaning  may  be,  either, 

(1)  If  the  plan  of  operations  is  laid  down  too  definitely  before- 
hand, the  lesson  intended  to  be  taught  by  these  manoeuvres  will 
be  lost,  and  the  afiair  degenerates  into  a  mere  review ; 

or, 

(2)  If  the  plaa  of  operations  is  laid  down  too  definitely  before- 
hand, and  the  affidr  degenerates  into  a  mere  review,  the  lesson  in- 
tended to  be  taught  by  these  manoenvres  will  be  lost 

On  the  general  principle  of  Climax  (see  page  cxxxi)  the 
"  if  "  clause  should  come  first. 

Every  one  will  see  the  flatness  of  **  Revenge  thy  father's  most 
unnatural  murder,  if  thou  didst  ever  love  him,"  as  compared  with 
the  suspense  that  forces  an  expression  of  agony  from  Hamlet  in — 

OAmL    If  thou  didst  ever  thy  dear  father  love— 

HitmUt.    O,  God  ! 

Oko)U.    Revenge  his  foal  and  moat  nnnatoral  morder. 

The  eflTect  is  sometimes  almost  ludicrous  when  the  consequent 
is  long  and  complicated,  and  when  it  precedes  the  antecedent  or 
*' if -clause." 

I  shoald  be  delighted  to  introdace  yon  to  my  friemlfi,  and  to  show  yon  the  objects  of 
interest  in  oar  city,  and  the  beaatifal  scoiery  in  the  neighborhood,  if  you  were  here. 

"Where  the  "if-clause"  comes  last,  it  ought  to  be  very  em- 
phatic :  "if  you  were  only  here.'* 

The  introduction  of  a  clause  with  "if "or  "though"  in  the 


SiiC.  111.1  REPETITION   OF   TENSE-FORMS.  CXXV 

middle  of  a  sentence  may  often  cause  ambiguity,  especially  when  a 
great  part  of  the  sentence  depends  on  •'  that." 

His  eneroieR  answered  that,  for  the  sake  of  preserving  the  public  pence,  they  would 
keep  quiet  for  the  present,  though  he  declared  that  cowardice  wan  the  motive  of  the  de- 
lay, and  that  for  this  reason  they  would  put  off  the  trial  to  a  more  convenient  aeaaon. 

So,  The  Secretaiy  is  a  traitor,  if  he  realli/  wrote  the  letter  in 
question.  — Abbott. 

Obs.  88. — Where  two  diiferent  forms  of  the  verb  are 
connected  by  a  conjunction,  such  parts  of  the  tense-forms 
as  are  not  common  to  both  mnst  be  repeated  in  full. 

Thus,  we  may  say,  I  am  sui^prised  that  he  has  acfed  as  he  has 
[acted]  ;  but  not,  I  am  suqmsed  that  he  should  net  as  he  has  [acted]. 

ExKi:ri8K  LII. — Fill  out  the  improper  ellipses  in  tlie 
following  sentences: 

Example. — This  dedication  may  serve  for  almost  any  book  that 
has  been,  is,  or  shall  l>e  published. 

This  dedication  may  serve  for  almost  any  book  tliat  has,  is,  or 
shall  be  published. 

I  shall  do  all  I  can  to  persuade  othera  to  take  the  same  meas- 
ures for  their  caix»  which  I  have.  —  (iuardian. 

The  forms  of  English  are  so  few,  its  syntax  so  simple,  that  they 
are  learned  by  u.se  before  the  age  of  commencing  classical  study. 
— Mabsb. 

We  are  too  apt  to  imagine  that  what  is,  alwnvs  h;is.  and  always 
will  he.— Too  Much  Alone. 

But  you  will  boar  it  as  you  have  so  many  iliin^«.     J.  T.  Cole- 

UIDOB. 

I  am  anxious  for  the  time  when  he  will  talk  as  much  nonsense 
to  me  as  I  have  to  him. — Lantx^r. 

But  the  problem  is  one  which  no  research  has  hitherto  solved, 
and  probably  never  will.—H.  Holland. 

Failing,  as  others  liave,  to  reconcile  poetry  and  metaphysics. 
he  succeeds  better  in  8])ecuIation8  inspired  by  the  revolHtioiis  of 
leu8  and  laboratory. — £.  C.  Stxdmav. 


CXXVi  COMPOUND  8ENTENCB8.  [Part  I. 

No  introduction  haa,  nor  in  any  prolwbility  ever  will,  authorize 
that  which  common  thinkers  would  call  a  liberty. — 8u£Lley. 

Some  part  of  this  exemption  and  liability  may,  and  no  doubt  is, 
due  to  mental  or  physical  caaaea  in  the  unhappy  or  fortunate  indi- 
\*idual.  — Spectator. 

He  ridicules  the  notion  that  truth  will  prevail ;  it  never  has,  and 
it  never  will  pre\'ail.— Lbslix  Stkphen. 

I  never  have,  and  never  will,  attack  a  man  for  speculative  opin- 
ions.—Bugklb. 

Obs.  89. — The  copula  must  be  repeated  when  the 
second  of  two  connected  attributes  is  not  closely  associated 
with  the  first  in  meaning,  especially  if  it  is  contrasted  in 
meaning.    (See  Obs.  12,  page  xxxiv. ;  Obs.  36,  page  Ivii.) 

Thus,  They  will  admit  that  he  was  a  gpreat  poet,  but  deny  that 
he  was  a  great  man.    Here  will  should  be  repeated  before  deny. 

Obs.  90. — The  verb  to  he  must  not  be  made  to  do 
duty  at  once  as  a  principal  verb  and  as  an  auxiliary. 

Thus,  The  doctor  was  a  very  great  favorite,  and  received  with 
much  respect  and  honor. — Thacksrat.    Say  was  received. 

Waste  are  those  pleaint  famu,  and  the  farmer*  forever  departed.— LoirorBLLOw. 

Obs.  9 1 . — The  verb  should  usually  be  repeated  after 
asy  thauy  etc. ;  and  in  general  wherever  it  is  necessary  to 
distinguish  the  subject  from  the  object. 

Thus:  "I  esteem  him  more  highly  thii  Charles,"  may  mean  : 
(1)  I  esteem  him  more  highly  than  I  do  Charles  ;  (2)  I  esteem  him 
more  highly  than  Charles  esteems  him. 

Sometimes  the  bre\'ity  of  Antithesis  (see  page  cxxxvii)  must  be 
sacrificed  to  clearness  ;  as,  Flatteiy  gains  friends  ;  truth,  foes. 

Obs.  92. — It  is  better  to  repeat  tlie  verb  itself  than 
to  represent  it  by  do  or  diL     (See  page  Ixiv.) 

Thus,  I  have  furnished  the  house  exactly  according  to  your 


Sec.  m.J  REPETITION  OF  VERBS.  cxx\  u 

fancy,  or,  if  you  please,  my  own ;  for  I  have  long  since  learned  to 
like  nothing  but  what  you  do. — Spectator. 

DOKK  is  frequently  a  very  great  offender  against  grammar.  To  do  Ik  the  act  ofdO' 
ing.  We  nee  people  write,  "  I  did  not  8|)cak  yesterday  bo  well  a«  I  wished  to  hate  done."' 
Now  what  is  meant  by  the  writer  ?  He  nieann  to  say  that  he  did  not  speak  so  well  as  he 
then  wished,  or  was  wishing,  to  apeak.  Therefore  the  sentence  should  be  "  I  did  not 
apeak  yesterday  so  well  a«  I  wished  to  do  it,"  that  is  to  say,  to  do  or  to  (terform  the  act  oj 
•peaking. 

Take  great  care  not  to  be  too  free  in  yonr  use  of  the  verb  to  do  in  any  of  its  times  or 
modes.  It  is  a  nice  little  handy  word,  and,  like  our  oppressed  it,  it  is  made  use  of  very 
often  when  the  writer  Ik  at  a  loss  for  what  to  put  down.  To  do  is  to  act,  and,  therefore, 
it  never  can,  in  any  of  its  parts,  supply  the  place  of  a  neuter  verb.  "  How  do  you  do  f  " 
Here  do  refers  to  the  state,  and  is  essentially  passive  or  neuter.  Yet,  to  employ  it  for 
this  purpose  is  very  common.  Dr.  Blair,  in  his  twenty-thinl  Lee  urp,  says:  "It  is  «ome- 
what  unfortunate  that  this  number  of  the  Spectator  did  not  end.  as  it  might  have  done, 
with  the  former  beautiful  period."  That  is  to  say,  done  it.  And  then  we  ask,  Done 
what?  Not  the  act  of  ending,  because  in  this  case  there  is  no  nttion  at  all.  The  verb 
mvMU  tu  come  to  an  end,  to  ceaae,  not  to  go  any  fitrtlur.  The  winie  verb  to  end  is  some- 
times an  active  verb  :  "  I  etui  my  sentence ;  "  then  the  verb  to  do  may  stipply  its  place  : 
a.%  **  I  have  not  ende<l  my  sontence  so  well  as  I  might  have  done ; ''  that  is,  done  it ;  that 
is,  dotu,  or  performi'd.  tue  art  of  ending.  But  the  number  of  the  Spectator  was  no  ac- 
tor :  it  was  ex|)ected  to  jwrform  nothing ;  it  v  a-s  by  the  Doctor,  wishetl  to  have  ceawd  to 
proceed.  "  Did  not  end  as  it  very  well  might  hive  ended.''''  .  .  .  This  would  have 
been  correct:  but  the  Doctor  wished  to  avoid  the  repetition,  and  thun  he  fell  into  bed 
grammar.  '•  Mr.  Speak'  r,  1  do  not  feel  so  well  satisfied  as  I  should  have  done  if  the  Ilight 
Honoritble  Ge.  tlcman  ha<i  expla'ned  the  matter  more  fully."  To  feel  satisfied  s— when 
the  "atiKfatrtion  is  to  arise  from  conviction  produced  by  fact  or  reasoning — a  i-enselesa 
expression  :  and  to  supply  its  plac«;  when  it  is,  as  in  this  case,  a  neuter  verb  by  to  do,  is 
as  senseless.  Done  tehatt  Done  the  act  of  feeling.  "  I  do  not  feel  so  well  satisfied  as  I 
should  have  done,  or  executed,  or  performed  the  act  qf feeling!  "  What  incomprehen- 
sible words  !— COBBETT. 

Exercise  LIII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

EarampU. — *' or  if  they  take  it,"  etc. 

For  these  latter  will  either  not  scruple  to  take  a  false  oath,  or 
if  they  do,  will  satisfy  their  conscience  by  various  evasions  or 
equivocations.  — Whately. 

That  any  firm,  tradesmen,  manufacturers,  agents,  quacks,  per- 
fumers, or  whatever  else  they  may  be,  pay  a  settled  sum,  no  more 
and  no  less,  for  advertising,  I  do  not  believe  now,  whatever  T  may 
have  done  l)efore  commencing  my  laltors. — Sampson,  ffiston/  of 
Adrertising. 

Obs.  93. — In  many  conijx>und  sentences  the  8iil)ject 
miKst  l>c  ie|)eated,  to  prevent  ambiguity,  especially  after  a 


CXXVlil  COMPOUND  SBNTENCBa.  [Part  I. 

relative  standing  ae  subject,  or  where  the  relative  is  the 
subject  of  several  verbs. 

Thus,  "  He  professes  to  be  helping  the  nation,  which  in  reality 
is  suffering  from  his  flattery,  and  (he  ?  or  it  ?)  will  not  permit  any 
one  else  to  give  it  adviee.** — Abbott. 

Wlien  denied  in  one  member  and  asserted  in  the  other, 
the  subject  should  of  course  be  stated  in  both  members. 
Thus: 

No  line  of  it,  however  seemingly  discursive,  should  be  aim- 
less, but  [every  line]  should  have  some  relation  to  the  matter  in 
hand. --James  Path. 

A  similar  principle  may  require  the  repetition  of  the 
predicate,  or  of  ♦^^'^  entire  statement,  in  a  changed  fonn. 
Thus: 

Retaining  the  color  of  their  uniform,  they  have  replaced  an 
ugly  shako  by  one  altogether  as  smart  and  soldier-like  [as  the  for- 
mer shako  was  ugly?]. — London  Telegraph. 

There  are  those  who  never  reason  on  what  they  should  do,  but 
what  they  have  done,  as  if  reason  had  her  eyes  behind,  and  could 
only  see  backward. — Fielding. 

Obs.  94. — When  there  are  several  verbs  at  some 
distance  from  a  conjunction  on  which  thej  depend,  the 
conjunction  should  be  repeated.     Thus: 

When  we  look  back  upon  the  havoc  that  two  hundred  years 
Iiave  made  in  the  I'anks  of  onr  national  authors,  and,  above  all, 
when  we  refer  their  rapid  disappearance  to  the  quick  succession  of 
new  competitors,  we  cannot  help  being  dismayed  at  the  prospect 
that  lies  before  the  authors  of  the  present  day.  [Here,  if  when  be 
omitted,  the  clause  becomes  parenthetical.] — Abbott. 

Obs.  95. — Corresponding  conjunctions,  like  not  only, 
but  ii/'^o,  mid  clearness,  as    the   construction   assures   the 


Sac.  Ill]        CONJUNCTIONS— FINAL  CLAUSES.  CXXIX 

reader  that  the  sense  will  be  incomplete  until  the  full  stop 
is  reached.  But  when  unnecessary,  they  encumber  and 
stiffen  the  sentence. 

Thus,  Abbott  gives  the  following  sentence  : 

Ton  rnoKt  Uke  this  extrenrly  periloas  oonne,  in  which  sncoem  is  nnoertain,  and 
failare  diKi?racefal,  m  well  m  ruinons,  or  else  the  liberty  of  your  country  is  endangered. 

Here  the  meaning  is  liable  to  be  misunderstood  till  the  reader 
has  gone  half  through  the  sentence.  Write,  •'  Either  you  must," 
etc. ,  and  the  reader  is,  from  the  first,  prepaied  for  an  alternative. 

Obs.  96o — The  omission  of  conjunctions  sometimes 
gives  forcible  abruptness ;  as,  You  say  this ;  I  deny  it. 

For  it  is  a  remarkable  peculiarity  of  language  that' the  omission 
of  a  connecting  particle  should  sometimes  serve  to  make  objects 
appear  more  closely  connected ;  and  that  the  repetition  of  it 
should  distinguish  and  separate  them  in  some  measure  from  each 
other. —Blaik. 

Obs.  97. — Short  and  unemphatic  clauses  should  not 
be  introduced  unexpectedly  at  the  end  of  long  sentences, 
except  to  produce  a  special  effect. 

After  a  long  and  tedious  journey,  the  last  part  of  which  wa.s  a 
little  dangerous,  owing  to  the  state  of  the  roads,  we  arrived  safely 
at  York,  which  is  a  fine  old  town. 

AVhen  the  short  final  clause  is  intended  to  be  unexpect- 
edly emphatic,  it  comes  in  appropriately,  with  somethinjx 
the  sting  of  an  epigram  (see  page  cxxxvi).     Thus : 

The  old  miser  said  that  he  shonld  have  been  delighted  to  give  the  poor  fellow  a  shil- 
ling, but  moat  unfortnnately  be  had  left  his  pane  at  homo— a  habit  of  his. 

Bnspense  naturally  throws  increased  emphasis  on  the  words  for 
which  we  are  waiting,  i.«.,  on  the  end  of  the  sentence.  It  has 
been  pointed  out  above  that  c  monotony  of  final  enipha-sis  is  ob- 
jectionable, esjHHMally  in  l<»tter-writing  and  conversation. — Abbott. 

With  these  writings  young  divines  arc  more  conversant  than 


CXXX  OOMPOUND  SENTENCES.  [Pabt  I. 

with  those  of  Demoetheoes,  who  by  many  degrees  excelled  the 
other,  at  least  as  an  orator. — Swift. 

ExERci8K  LIV. — Correct  the  following  sentence. 

Example,— A»  this  is  not  the  case,  the  faulty  order  of  words 
cannot  properly  be  considered  as  rendering  the  sentence  ambiga- 
ons,  bat  can  be  considered  as  rendering  it  obscure. 

As  this  is  not  the  case,  the  faulty  order  of  the  words  cannot 
properly  be  considered  as  rendering  the  sentence  ambiguous,  but 
obscure. — Camfbbll. 

Obs.  98. —Clauses  that  are  graminatically  connected 
should  be  kept  as  close  together  as  possible. 

Thus,  in  the  following : 

Thr  result  of  tbme  obMnratioM  appaan  to  ta  in  oppositioti  to  the  view  now  generally 
raodved  in  thia  oountrjr,  that  in  niMoalar  affort  tha  enbatanoe  of  the  mnade  itanlf  onder- 
goaa  diaintegratioa. 

Here  it  is  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  theory  of  *'  disintegration  " 
is  (1)  '*the  result,*' or,  as  the  absence  of  a  comma  after  *'be*' 
would  indicate,  (2)  **in  opposition  to  the  result  of  these  obserra- 
tions.*'  If  (1)  is  intended,  add  "  and  to  prove  '*  after  "  country;  ** 
if  (2),  insert  **  which  is"  after  "country." 

There  is  an  excessive  complication  in  the  following : 

"It  cannot,  at  all  events,  if  the  oonaideration  demanded  by  a  mibject  of  mich  impor- 
tance from  any  one  ixofeaaing  to  be  a  philoaopher,  be  given,  be  denied  that,"  etc. 

Where  a  speaker  feels  that  his  hearers  have  forgotten  the  con- 
nection of  the  beginning  of  the  sentence,  he  should  repeat  what 
lie  has  said — e.g.y  after  the  long  parenthesis  in  the  last  sentence 
he  should  recommence,  **  it  cannot,  I  say,  be  denied."  In  writing, 
however,  this  license  must  be  sparingly  used.    (See  page  c\-i.) 

A  short  parenthesis,  or  modifying  clause,  will  not  interfere  with 
clearness,  especially  if  antithesis  be  used,  so  as  to  show  the  con- 
nection between  the  different  parts  of  the  sentence,  e.g.  : 

"A  modem  newq;iap«  statement,  though  probabty  true,  would  be  laughed  at  if 
quoted  in  a  book  as  testimony ;  but  a  letter  uf  a  court  gossip  Ib  thought  good  historical 
evidence  if  written  some  centuries  ago." 

Here,  to  place  '*  though  probably  true"  at  the  beginning  of  the 
sentence  would  not  add  clearness,  and  would  impair  the  emphasis 


Sec.  Ill]  CLIMAX.  CXXXl 

of  the  contrast  between  **a  modem  newspaper  statement "  and 
*•  the  letter  of  a  court  gossip." — Abbott.     (But  see  below.) 

Obs.  99. — The  first  clause  should  prepare  for  the 
second,  the  second  for  the  third,  etc.,  in  an  increasing 
scale  of  interest  and  importance. 

Wbately  remarks,  in  a  sentence  that  itself  illustrates  the  prin- 
ciple he  states  : 

If  A  sentence  be  bo  constructed  that  the  meaning  of  each  part  can  be  taken  as  we  pro- 
ceed (though  it  be  evident  that  the  sense  in  not  brought  to  a  clo-oe),  itA  length  will  be 
little  or  no  impediment  to  perspicuity ;  but  if  the  former  part  of  the  sentence  convey 
no  dintinct  meaning  till  we  arrive  nearly  at  the  end  (however  plain  it  may  then  appear), 
it  will  be  on  the  whole  deficient  in  perspicuity  ;  for  it  will  need  to  be  read  over  or  thought 
over  a  second  time,  in  order  to  be  fully  comprehended  ;  which  is  what  few  readers  or 
hearem  are  willing  to  be  burdened  with. 

It  is  with  discourses  as  with  bodies,  which  ordinarily  owe  their 
principal  excellence  to  the  assemblage  and  just  proportion  of  their 
members,  in  such  a  way  that  although  one  member,  separated 
from  the  others,  may  have  nothing  remarkable  about  it,  still  all 
of  them  together  do  not  fail  to  make  a  perfect  body. — Lonoinus. 

The  following  is  an  instance  of  defective  comV)ination  : 

A  modem  newspaper  statement  though  probably  true,  would  be  laughed  at,  if  quoted 
in  a  book  a«  teetimony ;  but  the  letter  of  a  court  goasip  is  thought  good  historical  evi- 
dence, if  written  some  centuries  ago. 

A  rearrangement  of  this,  in  accordance  with  the  principles  ad- 
vocated above,  will  be  found  to  increase  the  effect.     Thus  : 

ThoDgh  probably  true,  a  modem  newapaper  statement  quoted  in  a  book  as  testimony, 
wooid  be  laughed  at ;  but  the  letter  of  a  ooort  gossip,  if  written  some  oentories  ago,  is 
ihooght  good  historical  evidenoe. 

By  making  this  change,  some  of  the  suspensions  are  avoided 
and  others  shortened ;  while  there  is  less  liability  to  pro<luce 
premature  suggestions.  The  passage  quoted  below  from  "  Para- 
dise Lost "  aflfords  a  fine  instance  of  a  sentence  weU  arranged ; 
alike  in  the  priority  of  the  subordinate  members,  in  the  avoidance 
of  long  and  numerous  suspensions,  and  in  the  correspondence  be- 
tween the  onler  of  the  clauses  and  the  sequence  of  the  phenomena 
de6cril)ed,  which,  by  the  way,  is  a  further  prerequisite  to  easy 
comprehension,  and  therefore  to  effect 


CXXXII  COMPOUND  SENTENCES.  [Part  I 


umtfor  prpj, 
pw  tlMir  flooka  at  ere 


Or  M  A  chlaf  bnt  to  snhoMd  tiM  o«rii 
Of  KNM  rtoh  bofglMr,  vImw  aobiiaBtM  doora, 
CroM-lMif  d  and  boltad  Cut,  fear  no  aManltt 
la  at  Iba  vladov  oliiBlM,  or  0^  tba  tilas : 
80  doBb  llM  tm  fraad  thkf  Into  Ood^  fold : 
80  riaot  lato  hia  oharoh  lewd  hirdiflffi  eUmbL 

The  habitual  use  of  ■entencea  in  which  all  or  moat  of  the  de- 
scriptiTe  and  limiting  elements  precede  those  described  and  lim- 
ited, gives  rise  to  what  is  called  the  inverted  style  [see  page  xxi] ; 
a  title  which  is,  however,  by  no  means  confined  to  this  stractnre, 
but  is  often  used  where  the  order  of  the  words  is  simply  nnusoal. 
A  more  appropriate  title  would  be  the  direct  style^  as  contrasted 
with  the  other,  or  indirect  style :  the  peculiarity  of  the  one  being, 
that  it  conveys  each  thought  into  the  mind  step  by  step  with  little 
liability  to  error ;  and  of  the  other,  that  it  gets  the  right  thought 
conceived  by  a  series  of  approximations. 

The  superiority  of  the  direct  over  the  indirect  form  of  sentence, 
implied  by  the  several  conclusions  that  have  been  drawn,  must 
not,  however,  be  affirmed  without  reservation.  Though,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  it  is  well  for  the  qualifying  clauses  of  a  period  to 
precede  those  qualified ;  yet,  as  carrying  forward  each  qualifying 
clause  costs  some  mental  effort,  it  follows  that  when  the  number 
of  them  and  the  time  they  are  carried  become  great,  we  reach  a 
limit  beyond  which  more  is  lost  than  is  gained.* 


*  A  sentence,  tat  example,  begins  with  a  aeries  of  iff  ;  perhaps  a  doaen  lines  are  ooca- 
plad  with  expandinff  the  conditions  under  whidi  something  is  affirmed  or  denied ;  here 
joa  cannot  Hitni—  and  hare  done  with  the  ideas  as  yon  go  along ;  all  is  hypothetic ;  all 
is  rospended  in  air.  The  conditions  are  not  fully  to  be  understood  until  yon  are  ac- 
qnainted  with  the  dependency ;  you  must  give  a  separate  attention  to  each  clai;se  of  this 
complex  hypothesis,  and  yet,  having  done  that  by  a  painful  effort,  yoo  hare  done  nothing 
at  all ;  for  you  most  exercise  a  reacting  attention  through  the  corresponding  latter  sec- 
tion, in  order  to  follow  out  its  relations  to  all  parts  of  the  hypotheses  which  snstaine*!  it. 
In  fact,  under  the  rude,  yet  also  artificial  character  of  newspaper  style,  each  separate 
monster  period  is  a  vast  arch,  which,  not  receiving  its  key-stone,  not  being  locked  into 
aalf-«a|90Cting  cohesion  until  you  nearly  reach  its  close,  imposes  of  necessity  upon  the 
unhappy  reader  all  the  onus  of  its  ponderous  weight  through  the  process  of  its  construc- 
tion.—Da  Quuicrr. 


Sec.  III.l  HERBERT   SPENCER'S  VIEW.  CXXXIII 

Other  things  equal,  the  arrangement  should  be  such  that  no 
concrete  image  shall  be  suggested  until  the  materials  out  of 
which  it  is  to  be  made  have  been  presented.  And  yet,  as  lately 
pointed  out,  other  things  equal,  the  fewer  the  materials  to  be  held 
at  once,  and  the  shorter  the  distance  they  have  to  be  borne,  the 
better.  Hence  in  some  cases  it  becomes  a  question  whether  most 
mental  effort  will  be  entailed  by  the  many  and  long  suspensions, 
or  by  the  correction  of  successive  misconcei^tions. 

This  question  may  sometimes  be  decided  by  considering  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  persons  addressed.  A  greater  grasp  of  mind  is  re- 
(juired  for  the  ready  comprehension  of  thoughts  expressed  in  the 
direct  manner,  where  the  sentences  are  anyvsise  intricate.  To  re- 
collect a  number  of  preliminaries  stated  in  elucidation  of  a  coming 
idea,  and  to  apply  them  all  to  the  formation  of  it  when  suggested, 
demands  a  good  memory  and  considerable  power  of  concentra- 
tion. To  one  possessing  these,  the  direct  method  will  mostly 
seem  the  best ;  while  to  one  deficient  in  them  it  will  seem  the 
worst.  Just  as  it  may  cost  a  strong  man  less  effort  to  carry  a 
hundred-weight  from  place  to  i)lace  at  once,  than  by  a  stone  at  a 
time,  so  to  an  active  mind  it  may  be  easier  to  bear  along  all  the 
qualifications  of  an  idea,  and  at  once  rightly  form  it  when  named, 
than  to  first  imperfectly  conceive  such  idea,  and  then  carry  back  to 
it,  one  by  one,  the  details  and  limitations  aftorward  mentioned. 
While  conversely  as,  for  a  boy,  the  only  possible  mode  of  trans- 
ferring a  hundred-weight  is  that  of  taking  it  in  jwrtions,  so,  for 
a  weak  mind,  the  only  possible  mode  of  forming  a  compound  con- 
ception may  be  that  of  building  it  up  by  carrying  separately  its 
several  ^mrts. 

Tliat  the  indirect  method — the  method  of  conveying  the  mean- 
ing by  a  series  of  a])proximations — is  best  fitted  for  the  unculti- 
vated, may  indeed  be  inferred  from  their  habitual  use  of  it.  The 
form  of  expression  adopted  by  the  savage,  as  in  "Water  give 
me,"  is  the  simplest  type  of  the  approximate  arrangement.  In 
pleonasms,  which  are  conii)aratively  prevalent  among  the  unedn- 
cated,  the  same  essential  structure  is  seen,  as,  for  instance,  in 
"Tlie  men,  they  were  there."  Again,  the  old  possessive  case — 
**Tho  king,  his  crown,"  eon  forms  tt)  the  like  order  of  thought. 
Moreover,  the  fact  that  the  indirect  mode  is  called  the  natural  one, 


CXXXIV  COMPOUND  SENTENCES.  [Part  I 

implies  Uutt  it  in  the  one  spontaneonslj  employed  by  the  common 
people — that  is,  the  one  easiest  for  undisoiplined  minds. 

There  are  many  cases,  howerer,  in  which  neither  the  direct  nor 
the  indirect  structure  is  the  best,  but  where  an  intermediate  struc- 
ture iH  preferable  to  both.     .     .     . 

Before  dismissing  this  branch  of  our  subject,  it  should  be  fur- 
ther remarked  that,  even  when  addressing  the  most  Wgorous  in- 
tellects, the  direct  style  is  unfit  for  communicating  ideas  of  a 
complex  or  abstract  character.  So  long  as  the  mind  haf>  not  much 
to  do,  it  may  be  well  able  to  grasp  all  the  preparatory  clauses  of  a 
sentence,  and  to  use  them  effectively ;  but  if  some  subtlety  in  the 
argument  absorb  the  attention,  if  every  faculty  be  strained  in  en- 
deavoring to  catch  the  speaker's  or  writer*s  drift,  it  may  hapiKMi 
that  the  mind,  unable  to  carry  on  both  processes  at  once,  will 
break  do^n,  and  allow  the  elements  of  the  thought  to  lapse  into 
confusion. — Hkbbebt  Spbmckb. 

Examples  (see  also  page  cxxiv) : 

With  tbM  oooTerricg,  I  focset  all  tiiiM.— Mzltoh. 
Formed  1^  thy  oooTene,  hAm>Uj  to  iteer 
From  grave  to  gmy,  from  Urdy  to  levere. — Popa. 

Were  we  as  eloquent  as  angels,  we  should  please  some  men, 
some  women,  and  some  children  much  more  by  listening  than  by 
talking.  — Ck>im)N. 

Exercise  LV. — Give  strength  to  the  following  sen- 
tences by  arranging  the  members  according  to  the  natural 
order  of  circumstances. 

Example. — Improvidence  is  the  parent  of  poverty  and  depend- 
ence. 

Improvidence  is  the  parent  of  dependence  and  poverty. 

Gentleness  ought  to  diffuse  itself  over  our  whole  behavior,  to 
form  our  address,  and  to  regulate  our  speech. 

Aml)ition  creates  seditions,  wars,  discords,  hatred,  and  shyness. 

Chanty  breathes  long-suffering  to  enemies,  coui*tesy  to  strangers, 
habitual  kindness  toward  friends. 

A  virtuous  and  pious  life  will  prove  the  best  preparation  for  im- 
mortality and  death. 


bec.  iil]  climax— bathos.  cxxxv 

In  this  state  of  mind,  every  employment  of  life  becomes  an  op- 
pressive bnrclen,  and  every  object  appears  gloomy. 

Virtue  supports  in  sickness,  comforts  in  the  hour  of  death, 
strengthens  in  adversity,  and  moderates  in  jjrosperity. 

The  study  of  astronomy  elevates  and  expands  the  mind. 

Since  man  is  on  his  very  entrance  into  the  world  the  most  help- 
leas  of  all  creatures ;  since  he  must  at  last  be  laid  down  in  the  dust 
from  which  he  was  taken  ;  and  since  he  is  for  a  series  of  years  en- 
tirely dependent  on  the  support  and  protection  of  others;  how 
vain  and  absurd  does  it  appear  that  such  a  being  should  indulge  in 
worldly  pride ! 

That  morning  he  had  laid  his  books,  as  usual,  on  the  table  in 
his  study. 

I  sliall  never  consent  to  such  proposals  while  I  live. 

Many  changes  are  now  taking  place  in  the  vegetable  world, 
under  our  immediate  notice,  though  we  are  not  observant  of  them. 

By  those  accustomed  to  the  civilization  and  the  warm  sun  of 
Italy,  it  must  have  been  felt  as  a  calamity  to  be  compelled  to  live, 
not  only  in  a  cold,  uncultivated  country,  but  also  among  a  bar- 
barous people. 

Let  us  not  conclude,  while  dangers  are  at  a  distance,  and  do  not 
immediately  approach  us,  that  we  are  secure,  unless  we  use  the 
necessary  precautions  to  prevent  them. 

You  may  set  my  fields  on  fire,  and  give  my  children  to  the 
sword ;  you  may  drive  myself  forth  a  houseless,  childless  beggar, 
or  load  me  with  the  fetters  of  slavery ;  but  you  never  can  conquer 
the  hatred  I  feel  to  your  oppression. 

Meanwhile  Gloucester,  taking  advantage  of  the  king's  indolent 
disposition,  resumed  his  plots  and  cabals. 

In  all  speculations  ui>on  men  and  liuman  affairs,  it  is  of  no  small 
moment  to  distinguish  things  of  accident  from  permanent  causes. 

At  Bath,  the  remains  of  two  temples,  and  of  a  numl>er  of  statues, 
liave  been  dug  up,  in  laying  the  foundations  of  new  streets  and 
squares. 

ObS.  lOO. — A  sudden  descent  in  interest  is  called 
Bathos. 

Thus,  '*  To  gossip  is  a  foult ;  to  libel,  a  crime ;  to  slander,  a  sin.** 
She  was  a  woman  of  many  accomplishments  and  virtues,  grace- 


CXXXVi  COMPOUND  SE.NTENCES.  (Part  I 

fnl  in  her  moTements,  winning  in  her  adilress,  a  kind  friend,  a 
faithful  and  loving  wife,  a  most  affectionate  mother,  and  she  played 
beaatifnllj  on  the  piano-forte. 

A  clergyman,  preaching  to  a  oodintij  congregation,  naed  the  fol- 
lowing persnasire  argnments  against  swearing :  *'Oh,  my  brethren, 
aroid  this  practice,  for  it  is  a  great  sin,  and,  what  is  more,  it  is  uu- 
genteeL** 

It  follows  that  if  Beanty  hath  her  habitation  in  onr  nnivers* 

living  in  the  setting  son,  or  in  *'  eve's  one  star,"  or  sitting  on  the 

rainbow  that  spans  the  heavens,  or  walking  over  the  green  fields 

and  tree-clad  hills,  or  wading  through  the  running  brook. 

Making  cweat  miMle  with  the  enamriled  •tone*— 

if  she  dwelleth  in  the  lily*e  cup  or  is  mantled  in  the  iris-hued  mist 
that  presides  over  the  cataract's  roar,  or  floateth  in  the  fragrant 
air — she  doth  so  because  man  is. — B.  A. 

Thu  o*er  Um  ijittg  lamp  tta*  naaleady  flam* 
Haaga  qnivering  on  a  point,  leaps  off  by  flti^ 
And  falla  again,  an  loth  to  qoit  ita  hold. 
Thoa  naniit  not  go ;  my  aool  still  hovers  i^er  thae^ 
And  can't  get  looae.— Amusoii,  Cato. 

When  the  sudden  descent  (anti-climax)  is  intentional, 
tlie  effect  is  humorous,  or  ironical. 

Qo.  wondrooa  creature,  mount  where  aoience  gnidea ; 
Go,  meaaore  earth,  weigh  air,  and  atate  the  tidea; 
Instmct  the  planeta  in  what  orbs  to  run ; 
Oonect  old  Time,  and  regulate  the  Sun ; 
Qo,  soar  with  Plats  in  th'  emp)Teal  rphere, 
To  the  first  good,  first  perfect,  and  first  fair; 
Oo,  teach  Sternal  Wisdom  how  to  rale, 
Then  drop  into  thys^,  and  be  a  fool.— Popk. 

Obs.  I O I . — A  sudden  anticlimax  may  have  the  effect 
of  wit,  by  the  collocation  of  ideas  that  at  first  seem  incon- 
gruous.    Thus : 

and      dia- 
monds. — 

X  1  •  1       Climax. 

The  Russian  grandees  came  to  court  dropping  pearls  -{ 

min.--4n^t- 
.  climcu. 


Sec.  ULJ  ANTI-CLIMAX —ANTITHESIS.  CXXXVll 


These  two  nations  were  divided  by  mutual  fear  - 


and    the   bitter 

remembrance  of 

recent  losses. — 

Climax. 

and  mountains. 

— Anti-climax. 


Obs.  1 02. — Antithesis  adds  force  and  clearness,  but 
must  not  be  excessive.     Thus : 

All  the  pleasing  illusions  which  made  power  gentle,  and  obedi- 
ence voluntary,  are  now  to  be  destroyed. 

There  is  here  a  kind  of  formula : 

Gentleness:  power::  spontaneousness :  obedience. — Abbott. 

That  kind  of  period  which  hath  most  vivacity  is  commonly  that 
wherein  you  find  an  antithesis  in  the  members,  the  several  parts 
of  one  having  a  similarity  to  those  of  the  other,  adapted  to  some 
resemblance  in  the  sense.  The  effect  produced  by  the  coiTespond- 
iug  members  is  like  that  produced  in  a  picture  when  the  figures 
of  the  group  are  not  all  on  a  side,  with  their  faces  turned  the 
same  way,  but  are  made  to  contrast  each  other  by  their  several 
positions.  Besides,  this  kind  of  periods  is  generally  the  most  per- 
spicuous. There  is  in  them  not  only  that  original  light  which 
results  from  the  expression  when  suitable,  but  there  is  also  that 
which  is  reflected  reciprocally  from  the  opposed  members.  The 
relation  between  these  two  is  so  strougly  marked,  that  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  lose  sight  of  it.  The  same  quality  makes  them 
easier  also  for  the  memory. — Campbell. 

Mind  U  inTidble,  bat  70a  may  find 

A  mothod  h«te  to  let  me  wo  your  mind.— Mortooicxbt,  in  an  amtograph  <Ubum, 

On  parent  knee*,  a  naked,  new- bom  child, 
Weeplnc  thoa  Mt'tt  while  all  around  thee  ■milod  ; 
80  live,  that  dnking  fm  thy  last  long  ataap^ 
Thou  then  may*tt  smile,  while  all  around  thee  weep. 

—From  tJU  Arttbie,  by  Sib  W.  Joxxa. 

A  lady  complained  to  me  that  of  lier  two  handmaidens  one  was 
absent-minded,  and  the  other  absent-bodied. — Emebsqn. 

The  reaenning  maid,  above  her  eez't  dread. 
Had  dand  and  read,  and  dared  to  a«jr  she  read. 


cxxxvin  ANTITHESIS.  [Part  I. 

Speech  was  given  to  the  ordinary  sort  of  men,  whereby  to  com- 
municate their  mind  ;  but  to  wise  men,  whereby  to  conceal  it — 
South. 

Speech  is  Bilvem,  but  silence  is  golden. 

He  twice  forsook  his  party ;  his  principles,  never. 

Prosperity  gains  friends,  but  adversity  tries  them. 

Qointilian's  criticism  of  a  certain  author  was,  that  his  greatest 
excellence  consisted  in  having  no  faults,  his  greatest  fault  in  hav- 
ing no  excellencies. 

Persecution  is  not  wrong  because  it  is  cruel,  Imt  is  phipI  bo- 
cause  it  is  wrong. 

Precocious  children  make  stupid  persons ;  as  eariy-nsere  are 
conceited  in  the  morning  and  vapid  all  the  afternoon. 

TlM  iMii  veoalatioo  Um  marine  holds  forth 

Tb  any  enllgfataned  low  at  pott, 
Is  to  buy np  at  tto  prioe  ha  to  worth. 

And  adl  him  at  that  he  poUon  hlmMiC— Moobs. 

Exercise  LVI. — Complete  the  antithesis  in  each  of  the 
following  sentences. 

Exomple, — Pride  hardens  the  heart,  but  humility  softens  it. 

Pride  hardens  the  heart,  but  humility — .  Pride  is  the  offspring 
of  ignorance — .  To  err  is  human  ;  to  forgive—.  He  is  young  in 
years,  but — .  If  we  have  no  regard  for  our  own  character,  we 
should,  at  least  — .  The  manner  of  speaking  is  as  important  as 
the  — ,  Almost  every  object  has  a  bright,  as  well  as—.  Silence 
your  opponent  with  reason,  not  with — .  Man  is  intended  for  two 
distinct  states  of  being.  His  first  life  is  transient ;  his  second —  ; 
the  first  corporeal ;  the  second — ;  the  former  confined  to  time  ; 
the  latter  bounded — .  Philosophy  makes  us  wiser ;  — makes  us 
better  men.  The  former  makes  us  the  objects  of  human  admira- 
tion ;  the  latter  of —regard.  That  insures  us  temporal  happiness ; 
but  this — . 

Exercise  LYII. — Correct  the  following  sentences. 

Example. — The  question  arises  whether  in  these  extremely  vio- 
lent cases  it  is  wiser  to  resort  to  seclusion  in  padded  rooms,  with 
neither  clothing  nor  bedding,  or  to  use  the  muff  and  camisole.    In 


Sec  in.]  ANTITHESIS.  CXXXIX 

adopting  the  first-named  method  it  becomes  necessary  to  employ 
additional  attendants,  and  they  must  at  best  use  force  to  resti-aiu, 
and,  besides,  they  will  be  continually  in  peril  of  life  or  limb. 
Physicians  would,  we  believe,  decide  in  favor  of  the  latter  method 
as  being  most  humane  and  conducive  to  the  comfort,  safety,  and 
health  of  the  patient,  and  therefore  to  be  preferred  from  considera- 
tions of  kindness  and  humanity  to  the  insane. 

In  these  cases  of  extreme  violence,  the  question  presents  itself 
whether  it  is  wiser  to  resort  to  seclusion  without  clothing  and  bed- 
ding in  padded  rooms  and  employ  additional  attendants,  who  at 
best  would  have  to  use  physical  force  to  restrain,  with  constant 
danger  of  broken  ribs  or  limbs,  or  resort  to  the  muflf  and  the  cami- 
sole. When  left  to  the  physician  to  detennine  their  use,  we  believe 
the  latter  modes  of  restraint  would  be  most  humane,  most  condu- 
cive to  the  comfort,  safety,  and  health  of  the  patient,  hence  to  be 
preferred  as  a  question  of  humanity  and  kind  treatment  of  the  in- 
sane. 

I  beg  of  you,  never  let  the  glory  of  our  nation,  who  made  France 
tremble,  and  yet  has  the  gentleness  to  be  unable  to  bear  opjiosition 
from  the  meanest  of  his  own  countrymen,  be  calumniated  in  so  im- 
pudent a  manner  as  in  the  insinuation  that  he  affected  a  perpetual 
dictatorship.  — Steele. 

The  best  way  to  bring  a  clever  young  man,  who  has  become 
skeptical  orimsettled,  to  reason,  is  to  make  him/eel  something  in 
any  way.  Love,  if  sincere  and  unworldly,  will  in  nine  instances 
out  of  ten,  bring  him  to  a  sense  and  assurance  of  something  real 
and  actual ;  and  that  sense  alone  will  make  him  think  to  a  sound 
purpose,  instead  of  dreaming  that  he  is  thinking. — Coleridob. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Obs.  79.— Connection  of  the  members,  p.  oziii. 

Ex.  XLVI  — Division  into  simple  aentences,  p.  oxy. 
Ob«.  80. — Construction  not  to  be  changed,  p.  cxvi. 

Ex.  XLVII.  — Heterogeneous  construction,  p.  cxvii. 
Obfi.  81. — Correlatives  followed  bv  same  part  of  speech,  p.  cxviil 

Ex.  XLVIII. — Parts  of  speech  after  correlatives,  p.  cxviii. 
Obs.  82. — Conjunctions  unite  same  parts  of  speech,  p.  cxix. 

Ex.  XLIX. — Heterogeneous  construction,  p.  cxix. 
Obs.  8^1 — **  And  *'  introduces  new  statement,  p.  cxix. 
Obs.  84. — Avoid  "Or"  where  no  alternation,  p.  cxxi. 

Ex.  L.— '^Or"  changed  to  "  And,"  p.  cxxi. 
Obs.  85. — *'0r"  disjunctive  or  alternative,  p.  cxxii. 
Obft.  86.—"  If"  clauses  often  unnecessary,  p.  cxxiii 

Ex.  LL — Conditional  clauses  varied,  p.  cxxiii. 
Obs.  87. — **  If"  clause  to  be  kept  distinct,  p.  cxxir. 
Obs.  88. — Tense- forms  to  be  rei>eated,  p.  cxxv. 

Ex.  LU. — Improper  ellipses  tilled,  p.  cxxv. 
Obs.  Sd. — Copula  to  be  repeated,  p.  cxxvi. 
Obs.  90. — **  To  be  "  as  principal  and  copula,  p.  cxxvi. 
Obs.  91. — Verb  repeated  to  distinguish  subject  from  object,  p.  cxxt' 
Obs.  92. — **  To  do  "  not  to  be  used  instead  of  verb,  p.  cxxvi. 

Ex.  LIII. — Repetition  of  verb,  p.  cxxvii. 
Obs.  93.— Subject  to  be  repeated,  p.  cxxvii. 
Obs.  94. — Conjunction  to  be  repeated,  p.  cxxviii. 
Obs.  95. — Corresponding  conjunctions,  p.  cxxviii. 
Obs.  96. "r— Conjunctions  omitted  for  abruptness,  p.  cxxix. 
Obs.  97. — Short  clauses  at  end,  p.  cxxix. 

Ex.  LIV. — Arrangement  of  sentences,  p.  cxxx. 
Obs.  98. — Connected  clauses  to  be  together,  p.  cxxx. 
Obs.  99. — Climax,  p.  cxxxi. 

Ex.  LV. — Arrangement  of  members,  p.  cxxxi  v. 
Obs.  100. — Bathos— Anti-climax,  p.  cxxxv. 
Obs.  101. — Anti-climax,  with  effect  of  epigram,  p.  cxxxvi. 
Obs.  102. — Antithesis,  p.  cxxxvii. 

Ex.  LVI. — Complete  antithesis,  p.  cxxxviii. 

Ex.  LVII. — General  arrangement,  p.  cxxxviii. 


PART    II. 

CONVERSATION 


PART  II. 

COJ^VERSATIOJ^. 


CHAPTER  I. 

GOOD  BREEDING. 


All  are  not  gentlemen  by  birth  ;  but  all  may  be  gentlemen  in  opennesB.  in  modesty  of 
language,  in  attracting  no  man's  attention  by  singularitien,  and  giving  no  man  offence 
by  fcwwardnen :  for  it  is  this,  in  matter  of  speech  and  style,  which  is  the  mre  mark  of 
good  tante  and  good  breeding.— Dean  Alfokd. 

Awkwardness  in  conversation  usually  arises  from  a 
nervous  dread  of  saying  the  wrong  thing.  A  sudden  ques- 
tion discomposes.  No  answer  is  at  hand.  To  consider  and 
devise  an  answer  would  make  too  long  a  pause,  even  if  the 
mind  were  collected,  while  in  fact  to  think  coolly  under 
the  awaiting  eye  of  the  questioner  is  impossible.  So  the 
victim  begins  a  i*eply  without  a  hint  as  to  how  lie  shall 
complete  it,  stammers,  blunders,  and  retires  despairingly. 

A  shy  person  not  onXj  feels  jmin  but  gives  imin  ;  but,  what  is  tlio 
worst,  he  incurs  blame  for  a  want  of  that  rational  and  manly  co  - 
fidence  which  is  so  useful  to  those  who  possess  it,  and  so  plea-san 
to  those  who  witness  it.  I  am  severe  against  shyness,  because  i' 
looks  like  a  virtue  ;  and  l)ecau8e  it  gives  us  false  notions  of  what 
the  real  virtue  is. — Sydney  Smith. 

Recognized  Phrases. — There  are  few  such  emer- 
gencies for  which  society  has  not  provided.  To  devise  an  ori- 
ginal greeting  for  each  of  our  acquaintances  would  be  a  task 


4  *  ^  OOCD  BREEDING.  [Part  It 

qiiJtu  nejondng;  bnt  it  is  conventionally  agreed  that  all 
8iiall  l>e  contented  with  "  How  do  yon  do  ? "  When  we 
know  this  form  of  greeting,  and  know  that  it  will  be  con- 
Bidcred  sufficient,  our  mental  energy,  no  longer  paralyzed 
hy  the  dread  of  being  found  at  a  loss,  enables  us  to  gro)>c 
about  for  a  more  special  salutation,  assured  that  if  we  fail 
to  find  it  we  have  at  our  tongue's  end  a  formula  adecjiiate 
to  the  occasion.  The  first  requisite  to  swimming  well  is 
to  be  assured  one  is  not  going  to  drown. 

A  diner-out  of  long  experience  has  left  succeeding  generations 
heir  to  these  two  rules : 

1.  Always  know  what  it  is  conventional  to  say ; 

2.  Say  something  else. 

A  man  meeting  another  grasped  his  hand  cordially  and  exclaimetl 
in  tones  of  polite  but  uncertain  recognition,  **Mr.  Brown,  I  be- 
lieve ?  **  **  If  you  believe  that,"  calmly  replied  the  stranger,  whoso 
name  was  Hamilton,  "you*ll  believe  anything.*"  Mr.  Brown  re- 
cognized and  responded  to  the  humor  of  the  reply,  and  a  pleasan'. 
acquaintance  followed. 

Frank  confession,  from  its  rarity,  often  produces  the  effect  of 
wit.  Thus  a  man  in  whose  honor  a  dinner  was  given,  responding; 
to  the  toast  offered  him,  declined  to  make  a  8])eech  on  the  ground 
that  a  morbid  dosire  for  originality  restrained  him  from  saying 
that  this  was  the  proudest  moment  of  his  life,  and  it  really  didn't 
occur  to  him  to  say  anything  else. 

The  conventionalities  of  society  are  comparatively  few 
in  number  and  easily  acquired.  How  little  of  the  phrase 
of  common  intercourse  is  of  modern  origin  is  amusingly 
shown  in  the  still  familiar  forms  laid  down  in  Swift's 
"  Complete  Collection  of  Genteel  and  Ingenious  Conversa- 
tions,-' and  even  in  the  "  Colloquies  "  of  Erasmus.  It  is 
not  so  much  that  the  words  are  stereotyped,  though  there 
is  considerable  uniformity  of  expression.  But  it  is  imder- 
stood,  for  instance,  that  when  one  meets  an  acquaintance, 
one  is  to  greet  him,  and  show  interest  in  him  by  inquiries 


Chap.  I.]      ACQUAINTANCE  WITH  CONVENTIONALITIES.        5 

as  to  liimself,  his  family,  his  friends.  Tlvese  inquiries  are 
to  the  well-bred  man  a  matter  of  course,  and  are  made 
through  habit  without  thought  or  effort.  Meantime  one  has 
recovered  from  one's  surprise,  has  recalled  what  one  knows 
of  the  acquaintance,  his  position,  his  history,  the  circum- 
stances under  which  one  has  met  him,  and  is  ready  without 
a  break  in  the  conversation  to  sugjijest  some  topic  likely  to 
be  of  interest.  AVere  there  no  established  forms  of  greeting, 
but  were  the  two  re(juired  from  the  first  word  to  evolve  the 
proper  thing  to  say  and  the  proper  way  to  say  it,  we  may 
be  sure  such  encounters  would  be  awkward  and  dreaded. 

Erasmus  (1526)  gives  a  multitude  of  forms  for  all  ordinaiy  occa- 
sions, between  all  sorts  of  persons,  a  fair  proportion  of  which  are 
still  in  use.  Thus  for  "Farewell,"  at  i)arting,  we  have:  "Fare 
ye  all  well.  Farewell.  Take  care  of  your  health.  Take  a  great 
care  of  your  health.  I  bid  you  good-by.  Time  calls  me  away, 
fare  ye  well,"  etc.,  etc. 

Swift  (1730)  in  playful  sarcasm  published  a  collection  of  "at 
least  a  thousand  shining  questions,  answei-s,  rei^artees,  replies  and 
rejoinders,  fitted  to  adorn  every  kind  of  discourse  that  an  assem- 
bly of  English  ladies  and  gentlemen,  met  together  for  their  mutual 
entertainment,  can  possibly  want ; "  he  boldly  aflBrmed  that  "  the 
w  hole  geniu.s,  humor,  politeness,  and  eloquence  of  England  "  were 
summed  up  in  it,  the  last  six  or  seven  years  not  ha\'ing  added 
above  nine  valuable  sentences;  he  further  faithfully  assured  the 
reader  that  there  was  not  a  single  witty  phrase  in  the  collection 
which  harl  not  received  the  stamp  and  approbation  of  at  least  one 
htiudred  yours,  so  that  all  might  be  relied  upon  as  "genuine,  ster- 
ling, and  authentic." 

As  might  )k;  expected,  the  collection  is  of  shallow  and  slang 
phrases,  which  one  might  think  ephemeral.  Yet  no  small  propor- 
tion may  Ik;  heard  at  this  day  wherever  people  are  gathered  in  idle 
mood.    Some  of  the  commonest  are  the  following : 

IS  ST.  JAMBS'  PARK. 
CoL  Atwil,    How  do  yoa  do,  IHim  ? 
Tom  S*9trtmL    Never  the  better  for  y«>n. 
CoL    Why,  every  one  m  they  like,  u  the  good  woman  aaid  when  she  kiieed  the  oow. 


GOOD  BREEDING.  [Part  IL 


IN  LORD  SMABTS  H0U8B. 

Nettr.    Come,  •  penny  for  yotir  tbooflit. 

iHm  Notable.    It  lunoi  worth  •  farthing ;  for  I  «••  thinking  of  yoa. 

Ladt  Anawra  L    WHI.  bat  tit  while  yoa  aUy ;  *tfo  ••  cheap  utttiiig  m  ■tmnding. 

Ijat9  BmmrL    Go,  run  girl,  and  wmnn  knbo  fraah  cwt 

Smif.    Indeed,  ma'am,  there'iinaoe  Ml;  for  the  oaihMMteQ  it  alL 

Ladif  A    I  donbfc  It  wa«  a  oat  with  two  Icfu. 

LadgA,    Pnj.  mjkrd,  did  joo  walk  through  the  Parte  fai  the  tain? 

Lord  apar*UL  Tea,  madam,  we  were  neither  et^ar  nor  Mlt ;  we  wen  not  afraid 
the  rain  would  melt  na. 

CM.    Indeed,  madam,  that*«  a  He. 

Ladw  A.    ...    I  don't  lie ;  I  dt. 

Him.    Pray,  ooloneU  let  me  eee  that  bos. 

Col.    Madam,  there's  never  a  Con  it. 

Jfle«.    Mi^be  there  la,  colonel. 

'CoL    Ay,  bat  May  beea  dooH  fly  now,  mlaik 

Jitter,    Well,  miea,  FO  think  on  thia. 

Jfiie.    That'll  rhyme.  If  yoa  take  it  in  tima^ 

NtMT.    What !  I  eee  yon  are  a  poet. 

Jfiet.  Yes,lf  Iliadbotthe  wittodMWit.  .  .  .  Bnt  fway,  Mr.  NeTeroat,  what 
lady  waa  that  yoo  were  talking  with  in  the  lide-baK  teat  Tneeday  ? 

3>r«r.    Mim,  oan  yoa  keep  a  aeciett 

JfiM.     Ye^  I  can. 

JTeeer.    Well,  ndae,  and  eo  can  T. 

(A  wmM  tf  mmote  comet  ttown  th«  oAtmiwy.) 


LcH9  A.    Lord,  madam,  does  yoarladyriilp*>dliimneyamoke? 

CW.    No,  BMdam ;  bat  they  aay  smoke  always  pannes  the  feir,  and  yoor  ladyship  sat 


XotCr  S.    Madam,  do  yoa  loTO  bohea  tea  ? 

Xodlr  A.    Why,  madam,  I  most  confess  I  do  Ioto  It,  bat  it  does  not  lore  me. 

5>r«r.    MethinkN  miss,  I  dont  mndi  like  the  color  of  that  ribbon. 

JflM.  Why,  then,  Mr.  Nereroat,  do  yoa  see,  if  yon  don't  ranch  like  it,  yoa  may  look 
off  it.    .    .    .    Pray,  colond,  make  mc  a  present  of  that  pretty  penknife. 

CM.    Not  fnr  the  world,  dear  miss;  it  will  cat  lore. 

Jf las.    My  oomf  mt  is,  'twill  bo  all  one  a  thoosand  years  benoe. 

Never.    Why,  mim,  yon  are  so  ctoob  I  ooold  And  it  in  my  heart  to  hate  yoa. 

Mist.     With  all  mj  heart ;  there  \ri11  be  no  love  lost  between  ns. 

Ladif  S.    Colonel,  methinks  yonr  coat  is  too  short. 

CoL  It  will  be  long  enough  before  I  get  another,  madam.  .  .  .  Miss,  you  have 
got  my  handkerchief ;  pray,  let  me  have  it. 

Ladv  S.    No ;  keep  it  miss :  for  they  say  posseadon  is  eleven  points  of  the  law. 

Col.    Will  your  ladyship  be  on  the  Mall  to-morrow  night  ? 

Lat^^  S.    No,  that  wont  be  projier :  you  know  to-morrow's  Sunday. 

Col.  What  then,  madam  ?  they  say  the  better  the  day,  the  better  the  deed.  .  .  . 
Di<i  Lnbber  said  to  Mrs.  Talkall^  the  other  day  :  Matlam,  you  can't  cry  bo  to  a  goose. 
Yes,  but  I  can,  said  she ;  and,  ^rad,  cry'd  bo  full  in  his  face. 

Never.    Pray,  madam,  smoke  miss,  yonder,  biting  her  lips  and  playing  with  her  fan. 

Mitt.    Who's  that  takea  my  name  in  Tain  ? 


Chap.  I.]  A  CENTURY  AND  A  HALF  AGO.  7 

{She  rwu  up  to  them  arul  /alia  dumi.) 

Ludy  A.    Why,  miss,  I  wish  you  may  not  have  broke  her  ladyship's  floor. 

Nwr.    Miss,  come  to  me,  and  I'll  take  you  up. 

Jf  M*.  Pimy,  Mr.  Neverout,  keep  yuur  breath  to  cool  your  porridge :  you  measure 
my  com  by  your  bushel. 

^ei»er.     Indeed,  miss,  you  He 

Mi»s.     Did  you  ever  hear  anything  so  rude  ? 

Never.     I  mean  yi»u  lie  -  under  a  mistake. 

Smart     Why,  Tom,  you  are  high  in  the  mode. 

Never.    My  lord,  it  is  better  to  bo  out  of  the  world  than  out  of  the  Dishion. 
AT  DINNER. 

Col.    Here,  mlsa ;  they  say  fingers  were  made  before  forks,  and  hands  before  knives. 
{Neverout  eat$  a  piece  qf  pie  and  burns  his  tnouth.) 

SmarL  What's  the  matter,  Tom  ?  you  have  tears  in  your  eyes,  I  think ;  what  dost 
cry  for,  man  ? 

Never.  My  lord,  I  was  Just  thinking  of  my  poor  grandmother  I  she  died  Just  this 
very  day  seven  years. 

{Miss  takes  a  bit  and  burns  her  mouth.) 

Never.    And  pray,  miss,  why  do  you  cry  too  ? 

Jfia*.    Because  you  were  not  hanged  the  day  your  grandmother  died. 

Spark,    What  do  you  think  of  a  little  house  well  filled  ? 

Sir  J.    And  a  little  land  well  tilled  ? 

CoL    Ay  ;  and  a  little  wife  well  willed  ? 

Smart  {Carving  a  partridge.)  Well,  one  may  ride  to  Romford  upon  this  knife,  it 
is  so  blunt 

Lady  A.  My  lord,  I  beg  voor  pardon ;  but  they  say  an  ill  worknum  never  had  good 
tools. 

Smart    Sir  John,  what  are  you  doing? 

Sir  J.    I  must  do  as  the  Iteggars  do,  go  away  when  I  have  got  enough. 

CoL  Miss,  I  thank  you  ;  and,  to  reward  you,  I'll  come  and  drink  tea  with  you  in  the 
morning. 

JftM.    Colonel,  there's  two  words  to  that  bargain. 

CoL  Why,  my  lonl,  you  see  miss  has  no  nien;y  ;  I  wish  she  were  marrie<l  ;  but  I 
doubt  the  gray  mare  would  prove  the  better  horse. 

Any  one  desiring  to  revel  in  the  thousand  more  of  these  memor- 
ized witticisms,  will  find  them  in  any  complete  edition  of  Swift^s 
works.  Not  until  there  are  fewer  persons  who  rely  for  utterance 
upon  their  memory  instead  of  upon  their  wit,  will  set  phrases  be 
restricted  to  their  proper  sphere — the  verbal  courtesies  that  ex- 
press good-will  where  it  is  impracticable  to  express  anything  more. 

Usages  of  Society  not  Unreasonable. — It  is 

tlieri'foro  «»t'  liiijun'taiice  that  one  should  l>e  I'aniiliar  with 
the  phrases  customary  to  polite  society  ;  and,  indeed,  this 
knowledge  should  extend  to  all  its  u«iges.  No  one  can 
talk  well  while  doubtful  whether  he  is  behaving  properly, 


8  GOOD  BREEDING.  [Part  IL 

nor  will  bis  best  talking  avail  bim  witb  tbose  wbose  eyes 
are  fixed  on  tbe  social  enormities  of  wbicb  be  is  guilty. 

Sainte-Benve  was  noted  for  his  charm  in  conversation,  but  lie 
never  received  a  second  invitation  from  the  Empress  Eugenie,  be- 
cause at  his  first  breakfast  he  unfolded  his  napkin  and  laid  it  over 
both  knees,  instead  of  dropping  it  carelessly  over  his  left  knee,  and 
broke  his  egg  into  the  cup,  instead  of  eating  it  from  the  shell.  At 
first  thought  it  seems  ridiculous  to  insist  upon  such  nicety  in  so- 
cial usages ;  but,  after  all,  these  rules  have  reason  behind  them,  and 
seem  unreasonable  only  to  those  who  either  cannot  perceive  their 
purpose,  or  are  careless  of  the  comfort  in  little  things  of  those 
about  them.  It  takes  many  of  these  trifles  to  make  perfection  in 
social  intenM>ur8e  ;  but  this  perfection  is  no  trifle,  and  must  not  be 
underestimated.  Insolent  {in  solenSy  Latin)  is  literally  only  unaocus- 
toinetly  and  one  is  indeed  insolent  who  presumes  to  mingle  yni\i 
others  without  regarding  the  ways  and  habits  to  which  they  have 
been  accustomed. 

Defect  in  manners  is  usually  tbe  defect  of  fine  perceptions. 
Men  are  too  coarsely  made  for  the  delicacy  of  beautiful  carriage 
and  customs.  It  is  not  quite  sufficient  to  good  breeding,  a  union  of 
kindness  and  independence.  We  imperatively  require  a  perception 
of,  and  a  homage  to,  beauty  in  our  companions.  Other  virtues  are 
in  request  in  the  field  and  work-yard,  but  a  certain  degree  of  taste 
is  not  to  be  spared  in  those  we  sit  with.  I  could  better  eat  i^-ith 
one  who  did  not  respect  the  truth  or  the  laws  than  with  a  sloven 
and  unpresentable.  Moral  qualities  rule  the  world,  but  at  short 
distances  the  senses  are  despotic. — Eicebson. 

•  Hardncm  is  a  want  of  minute  attention  to  the  feelings  of  othen.  It  doe«<  not  proceed 
from  malignity  or  careleamess  of  inflicting  pain,  but  from  a  want  of  delicate  perception 
of  thom  little  things  by  which  pleasore  is  conferred  or  pain  excited. 

A  hard  person  thinks  he  has  done  enough  if  he  does  not  speak  ill  of  your  relations,  your 
children,  or  your  country  ;  and  then,  with  th»  greatest  good-humor  and  volubility,  and 
with  a  total  inattention  to  your  individnal  lUte  and  position,  gallops  over  a  thoosand  fine 
feelings  and  leaves  in  every  step  the  marks  of  his  hoofs  upon  your  heart. 

Analyxe  the  conversation  of  a  well-bred  man  who  is  clear  of  the  besetting  sin  of  hard- 
nen;  it  is  a  perpettial  homage  of  polite  good-nature.  He  remembers  that  you  are  con- 
nected with  the  Church,  and  he  avoids  (whatever  his  opinions  may  be)  the  most  distant 
refleotions  on  the  Establishment.  He  knows  that  yon  are  admired,  and  he  admires  you  as 
ftur  as  Is  compatible  with  good  breeding.  He  sees  that,  though  young,  yon  are  at  the 
head  of  a  large  establishment,  and  he  infu'cs  into  his  manner  and  conversation  that  re- 
spect which  is  so  pleasing  to  all  who  exercise  authority.     He  leaves  you  in  perfect  good- 


Chap.  L]  IMPORTANCE  OF  GOOD  MANNERS.  9 

htunor  with  yoanelf,  beoanw  joo  perceive  how  much  and  bow  suooessfnlly  yoa  have  been 
■tadied. 

In  the  meantime,  tho  gentleman  on  the  other  aide  of  you  (h  highly  moral  and  renpect- 
able  man)  htm  been  crushing  lit  Ic  bcnRibilities  and  overlooking  little  discrimiuHtionft,  and 
without  violating  anything  which  can  be  called  a  rule,  or  committing  what  can  t>e  denom- 
inated a  fault,  has  dlHploaKed  and  dinpirited  yon  from  wanting  that  fine  vision  which  aeoa 
little  thing*,  and  that  delicate  touch  which  handler  them,  and  that  fine  sympathy  which 
this  («u|)orior  moral  <irganiz«tion  always  bestows. 

So  great  on  evil  in  society  is  hnrdness,  and  that  want  of  perception  of  the  minute  cir- 
cumstances which  occasion  pleasure  or  pain.— Sydney  Smith. 

Good   Manners  Requisite  to  Success. — Bc- 

Bides,  liowever  one  may  feel  disposed  in  pi-iiiciple  toward 
these  particular  requirements,  he  must  in  practice  yield  to 
them  if  he  would  be  successful  in  conversation.  For  the 
first  requisite  of  this  art  is  adaptation  to  the  person  one 
talks  with,  not  only  in  subject  and  in  expression,  but  in 
personal  appearance  and  manners.  A  Fi'cnch  book  on 
rhetoric  begins  with  directions  for  the  care  of  the  teeth. 
No  well-bred  pei*son  could  listen  comfortably  to  a  fellow- 
guest,  however  wise,  who  ate  with  noisy  greediness. 

We  talk  much  of  utilities,  but  'tis  our  manners  that  associate  us. 
In  hours  of  business  we  go  to  him  who  knows,  or  has,  or  does  this 
or  that  which  we  want,  and  we  do  not  let  oiu*  taste  or  our  feeling 
stand  in  the  way.  But  this  activity  over,  we  return  to  the  indo- 
lent state,  and  wish  for  those  we  can  be  at  ease  with  ;  those  who 
will  go  where  we  go,  whose  manners  do  not  offend  us,  whose  social 
tone  chimes  with  ours.  When  we  reflect  on  their  persuasive  and 
cheering  force ;  how  they  recommend,  preimro,  and  draw  j)eople 
together ;  how,  in  all  clubs,  manners  make  the  members  ;  how 
mtuiners  make  tho  fortmio  of  tho  ambitious  youth  ;  that,  for  tho 
mast  |)art,  his  manners  marry  him,  and,  for  the  most  i)art,  he  mar- 
rios  manners  ;  when  we  think  wlmt  keys  they  are,  and  to  what  se- 
crot«,  what  high  lessons  and  inspiring  tokens  of  character  they 
convey,  and  wliat  divination  is  required  in  us  for  the  reading  of  tliis 
tine  telegraph,  wo  see  what  range  tho  subject  lias,  and  what  rela- 
tions to  convenience,  jjower,  and  beaaty. — Emebson. 

Good  Manners  never  Ostentatious. — It  is  an- 

otht'r  ;ipj)li(:iti<>ii   of   tlie   >auK!   ]»iiiicij>lc    that   oiui   should 


to  OOOD  BREEDING.  [Pabt  IL 

not  be  ostentatious  of  fine  manners.  Ill-breeding  is  never 
more  offensive  than  when,  by  doing  tilings  in  an  obtru- 
sively different  way,  it  seeks  to  make  others  feel  that  they 
have  done  a  thing  improperly.  The  same  motive  whicli 
leads  one  to  observe  how  well-bred  persons  do  things,  in 
oixler  to  avoid  giving  weU-bred  people  offence,  leads  one 
to  avoid  doing  things  at  all,  or  even  to  do  things  improp- 
erly, when  to  do  them  properly  would  make  some  one 
present  feel  that  he  had  committed  a  solecism. 

As  nuumera  go,  few  things  are  to  well-bred  people  more  dis- 
agreeable than  to  convey  food  to  one's  mouth  with  a  knife  ;  and 
yet  if  one  were  dining  with  an  elderly  person,  likely  to  be  sensi- 
tive, who  had  began  the  meal  by  eating  with  his  knife,  or  if  one 
were  a  gaest  at  a  table  where  there  were  only  two-tined  steel  forks, 
and  an  attempt  to  eat  with  them  might  make  the  hostess  blnsh 
becaose  she  could  not  f umiBh  silver,  it  would  be  one's  duty  to  con- 
ceal as  much  as  possible  that  he  was  eating  with  lus  fork,  or  even 
to  eat  with  his  knife.  No  mere  conventionahtv  must  interfere 
with  the  broad  principle  that  it  is  the  part  of  a  well-bred  person 
to  put  those  about  him  at  their  ease. 

Observe  Conventionalities. — The  first  lesson  to 
impress  upon  those  who  would  excel  in  conversation  is  to 
be  watchful  of  conventionalities.  Xo  written  pi-ecepts 
can  inculcate  them.  They  are  subject  to  constant  devel- 
opment, and  increase  in  complexity  as  one  mingles  with 
those  more  and  more  fitted  by  nature  and  position  to  give 
prominence  to  the  courtesies  of  life.  But  with  a  disposi- 
tion to  put  others,  and  to  leave  others,  at  their  ease,  even  at 
personal  sacrifice,  with  an  observant  eye,  and  here  and 
there  with  a  hint  from  older  persons,  one  may  learn  so  to 
comport  one's  self  that  one's  manner  will  never  make 
others  uncomfortable — an  essential  prerequisite  to  success 
in  conversation. 


Chap.  L]  SELFISHNESS  OF  ILL  MANNERS.  11 

Emerson  defines  manners  as  the  happy  ways  of  doing  things, 
once  a  stroke  of  genius  or  of  love,  but  now  hardened  by  usage  into 
habit.  How  much  more  gi-aceful  is  this  way  of  putting  it  than 
the  corresponding  i)a8sage  in  Swift:  "Therefore,  I  insist  that 
good  sense  is  the  principal  foundation  of  good  manners  ;  but  be- 
cause the  former  is  a  gift  which  very  few  among  men  are  possessed 
of,  therefore,  all  the  civilized  nations  of  the  world  have  agreed 
upon  fixing  some  rules  upon  common  behavior  best  suited  to  their 
general  customs  or  fancies,  as  a  kind  of  artificial  good  sense,  to 
supply  the  defects  of  reason." 

Ill- breeding,  says  the  Abbe  Belgarde,  is  not  a  single  defect, 
but  it  is  the  result  of  many.  It  is  sometimes  a  gross  ignorance 
of  decorum,  or  a  stupid  insolence  which  prevents  us  from  giving 
to  others  what  is  due  to  them.  It  is  a  peevish  malignity  which 
inclines  us  to  opi)08e  the  inclinations  of  those  with  whom  we  con- 
verse. It  is  the  consequence  of  a  foolish  vanity  which  has  no  com- 
plaisance for  any  other  person  ;  the  effect  of  a  proud  and  wliimsical 
humor,  which  soars  above  all  the  rules  of  civility  ;  or,  lastly,  it  is 
produced  by  a  melancholy  turn  of  mind,  which  pampers  itself 
with  a  rude  and  disobliging  beliavior. — Fieldino. 

Sydney  Smithes  Vefinltimi  of  "  A  Nice  Person^ 

A  nice  person  w  neither  too  Ull  nor  too  i>hort,  looks  clean  and  checrfnl,  has  no  prom- 
inent featnro,  makes  no  difncultics,  is  never  misplaced,  sits  bodkin,  is  never  foolishly 
affronted,  and  is  void  of  affectations. 

A  nice  person  heliw  you  well  at  lUnncr,  understands  you,  is  always  gratefnily  received 
by  yoang  and  old,  Whig  and  Tory,  grave  and  gay. 

There  is  aomethlng  in  the  very  air  of  a  nice  person  which  inspires  you  with  confl- 
denoe,  make*  you  talk,  and  talk  without  fear  of  malicious  ir.i8re|ireM>ntation  :  you  fevl 
that  yoa  are  reposing  on  a  nature  which  Ood  has  mailc  kind,  and  created  fur  the  benefit 
and  happineas  of  society.  It  has  the  effect  upon  the  mind  which  soft  air  and  a  fine  climate 
have  upon  ttie  body. 

A  nice  person  is  clear  of  little,  tmmpcry  pamionN  delights  in  Ulent,  shelters  humility, 
pankNM  adversity,  forgivea  deficiency,  respects  all  men's  rights,  never  stops  the  bottle,  is 
never  kmg  and  never  wrong,  always  knows  the  day  of  the  m(»th,  the  name  of  everybody 
at  t«>>le,  and  never  gives  iiain  to  any  human  being. 

If  anybody  is  wanted  tot  a  party,  a  nice  person  is  the  fln>t  thought  of ;  when  the 
child  is  duriatoncd,  whm  the  dangbter  is  married— all  the  joys  of  life  are  ramnuinicated 
to  nioe  peopte :  the  hand  of  the  dying  man  to  always  held  out  to  a  nice  person. 

A  nioe  piTson  never  knocks  over  wine  or  melted  bntter.  dues  not  tread  niton  tho  dug'a 
foot,  or  molest  tho  family  cat,  eats  soup  without  noiiw,  laughs  in  tiia  right  place,  and  has 
%  watchful  and  attentlTe  eja. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


GOOD  BREEDING. 


AWKWARDNESS:— Its  source,  and  iu  dissdranUges,  p.  3. 
Esosped  bv  acquaintaiic«  with  couveutionaUtie8,  pp.  3-7. 
RecogniztHi  forms  few,  and  easily  ac(}uired,  p.  4. 
Specimens  from  Eraimius,  and  Swift,  pp.  5-7. 
USAGES  OF  SOCIETY  not  unreasonable,  pp.  7-U. 

Defect  ir -^^  is  duftct  in  line  perceptions,  p.  8. 

GOOD  MAN  !  X^UISITE  TO  SUCCESS,  p.  9. 

Never  o=  n.  »,  10. 

Dependent  •  > :  1  ness,  p.  10. 

The  happy  u:>  iig  things,  p.  11. 

Selfishness  of  ill  manners,  p.  11. 

Sydney  Smith's  **Nioe  Person,"  p.  11. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS 

Do  you  approve  the  conduct  of  the  young  prelato'on  page  92  ? 

Do  vou  justify  the  remarks  made  in  the  anecdotes  uu  pages  265,  2CC, 
268?  * 

Was  the  editor  justified  in  rebuking  the  remark  on  the  weather,  as 
told  on  pp.  253,  254  ? 

What  do  you  think  of  the  action  of  Mrs.  Stephen  A.  Douglass  upon  the 
following  occasion  ?  A  constituent,  unaccustomed  to  polite  society,  was 
dining  at  her  house,  and  let  fall  a  tea-cup  of  exquisite  design  and  great 
value.  As  it  shivered  into  pieces,  he  was  greatly  disturl)ed,  but  Mrs 
Douglass,  taking  up  her  own  cup,  remarked  lightly,  ''  It  i^  curious  how 
easily  these  cups  break  :  see,  I  can  crush  it  like  an  egg-shell,"  and  did 
so  crush  it. 

What  do  you  think  of  the  following  remark  of  Emerson's  ?  *'  The  basis 
of  good  manners  is  self-reliance  (and  rie^  rerm).  Necessity  is  the  law 
of  all  who  are  not  self-possessed.  Those  who  are  not  self-possessed  ob- 
trude and  pain  us.  Some  men  appear  to  feel  that  they  belong  to  a  Fa- 
riah  caste.  They  fear  to  offend,  they  bend  and  apoloarize,  and  walk 
through  life  with  a  timid  step.  As  we  sometimes  dream  that  we  are  in 
a  well-dressed  company  wit}iout  any  coat,  so  God  >ey  acts  ever  as  if  he 
suffered  from  some  mortifying  circumstance.  The  hero  should  find 
himself  at  home,  wherever  he  is;  should  impart  comfort  by  his  own 
security  and  good-nature  to  all  beholders." 


CHAPTER  n. 

TABLE-TALK. 

No  fair  adTenary  would  nrge  loose  table-talk  in  controTerey,  and  bnlld  serious  infer- 
upon  what  was  spoken  in  jest. — Attbrbury.  quoted  in  Johnson's  Dictionary. 


Readiness  in  Light  Conversation. — In  Dore's 
illustrations  of  La  Fontaine's  Fables,  the  generalization 
of  the  fox  who  found  the  vines  too  high  for  him  repre- 
sents two  seedy  cavaliers  jeering  at  the  social  enjoyment 
of  a  company  from  which  they  are  excluded.  The  hit  is 
liappy,  for  no  other  discomfiture  is  oftener  excused  by  the 
sneer,  "  Sour  grapes."  Particularly  common  is  it  to  afiPect 
contempt  for  readiness  in  that  free  and  easy  form  of  con- 
vei*sation,  which  from  the  place  that  most  frequently 
affords  it  opportunity,  is  known  as  "  Table-talk  " — the  pri- 
mary object  being  rather  social  than  intellectual,  rather 
the  promotion  of  pleasant  feeling  than  a  search  for  new 
truth. 

Tho  awkward  man  remind.s  biuiBelf  that  a  groat  ti-agedian,  smil- 
ing at  his  insignificance  in  a  social  gathering,  boasted  that,  *'  want- 
ing in  all  thingH,  he  was  not  the  less  Corneille  ; "  that  Rousseau, 
who  in  talking  with  Hume  "  kindled  often  a  degree  of  heat  w  hich 
looked  like  inspiration,"  was  yet  ingeuoial  conversation  "remark- 
ably trite,  never  warmed  by  a  word  of  fancy  or  elotjuence  ;  "  tliat 
Addison  was  as  shy  among  strangers  as  he  was  delightful  in  his 
talk  with  a  chosen  com})anion,  and  used  to  say  that  though  he 
could  draw  a  check  for  u  thousund  ])ounds,  he  never  carried  a 
guinea  in  his  pocket. 

But  surely  to  walk  lii.^  -mm  .i^.  ptnniless  when  one  lias  a  thou- 
sand i)ounds  in  the  bank  shows  deplorable  lack  uf  judgment.    Such 


14  TABLE-TALK.  [Part  IL 

a  man  may  Ix)  congratulated  u|)on  LIh  ixxwcssion  of  resouroes,  but 
not  upon  his  use  of  them.  Rich  as  he  is,  he  may  iiiiss  the  greatest 
opportunity  of  his  life  because  he  has  not  an  omnibus  fare  in  his 
pocket,  nor  will  his  chagrin  be  the  less  that  he  might  just  as  well 
have  had  witli  him  a  thousand  omnibus  fares. 

The  ))arallel  holds.  Two  richly  gifted  men,  who  would  keenly 
liave  enjoyed  a  conversation,  may  ride  together  for  hours  in  awk- 
ward silence,  for  want  of  the  mutual  recognition  which  a  little 
small-talk  would  liave  developed.  Not  seldom  are  well-filletl 
minds  stagnant  for  want  of  an  outlet.  Many  a  man  goes  through 
life  a  hermit  because  he  has  not  learned  how  to  begin  a  conversa- 
tion. 

A  well-known  modem  astronomer,  attending  a  wedding,  passed 
up  to  offer  his  congratulations,  shook  hands  in  a  solcum  sort  of 
way,  and  uttered  not  a  word. 

**Why  didn't  you  say  something  to  them?"  queried  his  wife, 
respectfully. 

"I  don't  know,**  replied  the  absorbed  professor;  "I  didn't 
think  I  had  any  new  facts  to  impart." 

Table-Talk  an  Art. — Failure  in  table-talk  results 
oftenest  f rum  lack  of  appreciation  that  it  is  an  art.  Poems, 
orations,  essays,  even  letters  may  be  perfected  by  acquaint- 
ance witli  the  principles  of  rhetoric,  but  surely  anybody 
can  say  what  he  means:  that  is  one  mistake.  Another 
is  at  the  other  extreme:  that  the  agreeable  talker  is  bom, 
not  made ;  that  conversation  is  a  matter  not  of  education 
but  of  instinct. 

The  difBculty  of  literature  is  not  to  write,  but  to  write  what  you 
mean  ;  not  to  affect  your  reader,  but  to  affect  him  precisely  as  you 
wish.  This  is  commonly  understood  in  the  case  of  books  or  set 
orations ;  even  in  making  your  will  or  writing  an  explicit  letter, 
some  difficulty  is  admitted  by  the  world.  But  one  thing  you  can 
never  make  the  Philistine  natures  understand ;  one  thing,  which 
yet  lies  on  the  surface,  remains  as  nnseizable  to  their  wits  as  a 
high  flight  of  metaphysics — namely,  that  the  business  of  life  is 
mainly  carried  on  by  means  of  this  difficult  art  of  literature,  and 


Chak  IL]  table-talk  AN  ART.  15 

according  to  a  man's  proficiency  in  that  art  shall  V>o  the  freedom 
and  the  fulness  of  his  intercourse  with  other  men.  Anybody,  it  is 
8up}K)sed,  can  say  what  he  means  ;  and,  in  spite  of  their  notorious 
exi)erience  to  the  contrary,  so  jKioplo  continue  to  suppose. 

An  orator  makes  a  false  step ;  he  employs  some  trivial,  some 
absurd,  some  ^'ulgar  phrase  ;  in  the  turn  of  a  sentence  he  insults, 
by  a  side  wind,  those  whom  he  is  laboring  to  chaim  ;  in  Kj)eaking 
to  one  sentiment  he  unconsciously  mffles  another  in  imrenthesis  ; 
and  you  are  not  surprised,  for  you  know  his  task  is  delicate  and 
filled  with  jKjrils.  "O  frivolous  mind  of  man,  light  ignorance." 
As  if  yourself,  when  you  seek  to  explain  some  misundei-standing  or 
excuse  some  apparent  fault,  sj^aking  swiftly,  and  addressing  a 
mind  still  recently  incensed,  were  not  harnessing  for  a  more  peril- 
ous atlventure ;  as  if  yourself  required  less  tact  and  elo<pience  ; 
as  if  an  angry  friend  or  a  susjiicious  lover  were  not  more  easy  to 
offend  than  a  meeting  of  indifferent  politicians.  Nay,  and  the 
orator  treads  in  a  beaten  round ;  the  mattci-s  ho  discusses  have 
been  discussed  a  thousand  times  before  ;  language  is  ready-shai)ed 
to  his  puii)ose  ;  he  8i)eaks  out  of  a  cut  and  dry  vocabulary.  But 
you — may  it  not  be  that  your  defence  reposes  on  some  subtlety  of 
feeling,  not  so  much  as  touched  upon  in  Shak8i)ere,  to  express 
which,  like  a  pioneer,  you  must  venture  forth  into  zones  of  thought 
still  unsui-veyod,  and  become  yourself  a  literary  innovator  ?  For 
even  in  love  there  are  unlovely  humors ;  ambiguous  acts,  unpar- 
donable words  may  yet  have  sprung  from  a  kind'  sentiment.  If 
the  injured  one  could  read  your  heart,  you  may  he  sure  that  he 
would  understand  and  pardon  ;  but,  alas,  the  heart  caimot  be 
sliown — it  has  to  be  demonstrated  in  words.  Do  you  think  it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  write  poetry  ?  ^Vhy  that  is  to  write  poetry,  and  of  a 
high,  if  not  th«  highost  order.  —  Cornhill  Magiizine. 

Direct  Preparation. — It  would  surprise  most  people 
to  know  how  often  the  brilliant  talk  at  a  dinner-party  is 
the  result  of  direct  preparation.  Mr.  Jones,  for  instance, 
has  ac(juired  his  reputation  for  impromptus  through  a 
habit  of  considering  beforehand  who  will  be  present,  what 
they  will  be  likely  to  say,  and  wliat  hits  will  prove  felici- 
tous.    Even  those  who  do  not  consciously  anticipate  a  s|)e- 


16  TABLE-TALK.  (Part  II. 

cial  conversation  by  mental  reliearsal,  often  elaborate  their 
striking  expressions,  and  store  them  away  for  future  use. 
Suggestions  of  new  analogies,  happy  illustrations,  plausible 
paradoxes,  occur  to  most  of  us.  The  conversational  artist 
seizes  them,  turns  them  over  and  over  in  his  mind  till  they 
are  moulded  into  their  happiest  fonn,  perhaps  even  ex- 
periments with  them  upon  unimportant  listeners,  and 
finally  employs  them  just  at  tlie  right  time  to  produce  the 
maximum  of  effect.  And  why  not?  Daniel  Webster 
confessed  that  his  noble  figure  of  the  British  dnim-beat 
following  the  setting  sun  around  the  world  was  conceived 
at  Quebec,  months  before  he  had  occasion  to  use  it,  and 
that  the  very  words  employed  were  selected  after  hours  of 
experiment. 

Bat  it  is  not  alone  in  polishing  the  brilliants  of  conversation 
that  art  is  required.  If  one's  speech  with  strangers  be  easy  and 
continuous,  one  at  least  escapes  frequent  embarrassment,  though 
the  thoughts  be  trivial. 

It  may  be  added  that  facility  in  conversation  with  strangers  is 
rarely  acquired  in  mature  life.  One's  social  habits  are  usually 
fixed  before  thirty,  and  one's  intercourse  with  his  fellows  will  bo 
free  and  natural,  or  restrained  and  diflScult,  very  much  according 
to  the  readiness  in  table-talk  which  he  acquires  in  his  early 
years. 

'  Seek  Rather  to  Please  than  to  Shine. — The 

customary  phrase  of  society  serves  as  an  armor  against  em- 
barrassment, and  thus  leaves  one  at  liberty  to  give  full  play 
to  intellect  and  to  sympathy.  It  is  questionable  which  of 
the  two  will  be  of  more  service.  "He  is  a  master  of 
monologue,"  said  Madame  de  Stael  of  Coleridge,  "  but  he 
does  not  know  what  dialogue  is."  There  wa3  a  spice  of 
malice  in  the  remark  that  rarely  fails  to  accompany  the 
impression  that  one  is  peremptorily  compelled  to  be  a  lis- 


Chap.  II. ]     SEEK  NOT  TO  SHINE  BUT  TO  PLEASE.  17 

teller.*  "  Do  not  think  I  am  sought  after  for  my  dramas," 
eaid  Kacine  to  his  son  ;  "  Corneille  composes  nobler  verses 
tlian  mine,  but  no  one  notices  him,  and  he  pleases  only 
by  the  mouth  of  actors.  I  never  allude  to  my  works  when 
with  men  of  the  world,  but  I  amuse  them  about  matters 
they  like  to  hear.  My  taUnt  loith  them  consists  not  in 
making  them  feel  that  I  have  any,  hut  in  showing  them 
that  they  have.'''* 

The  apprehension  of  society  as  an  idea  is  one  of  the  distinctions 
between  gentility  and  the  commonaliy.  The  younger  members 
of  the  working-classes  have  more  intercoui'se  with  each  otiier  out 
of  family  life  than  their  bettei-s  ;  but  they  have  not  the  idea  of  a 
social  sphere  instilled  into  their  minds  as  it  is  upon  those  whose 
early  observation  is  set  to  work — of  a  sphere  where  they  are  to  be 
viewed  on  all  sides  and  judged  by  a  general  opinion.  The  neces- 
sity for  aelf-repression  makes  room  for  thought  which  those  chil- 
dren miss  who  have  no  formalities  to  obseiTe  and  no  customs  to 
respect — who  blurt  out  eveiy  irrelevance,  who  inteiiiose  at  will 
with  question  and  opinion  as  it  entei-s  the  brain.  It  is  this  unre- 
straint which  lays  the  foundation  of  that  self-centred  view  of  life 
to  be  obsan-ed  in  the  socially  untrained.  It  is  by  listening,  not  by 
talking,  that  spnimthy  is  acquired — tliat  intellectually  makes  men 
companionable.  This  abandonment  of  old  restraints  of  which  wo 
are  jealous,  may  be  one  of  the  reasons  why  conversation  as  an  art  is 
going  out.  Children  don't  leaiii  to  talk  by  chattering  to  one  an- 
other and  saying  wliat  comes  uppt»rmost ;  neither  does  reading  suf- 
fice to  this  end  single-handed.  Good  talk  should  lii-st  be  recog- 
nized as  such  in  othei-s.  Attention  is  the  most  influential  tutor  in 
the  fitting  use  of  the  tongue.  Where  we  see  good  talk  disregai'dtnl 
by  a  party  of  young  i)eople,  there,  we  may  be  sure,  the  chances  of 
their  ever  shining  socially  are  small  indeed.  Merc  listening  with 
intelligence  involves  an  exercise  of  mental  speech.  Not,  of  course, 
that  we  would  confine  children  to  the  act  of  attention  ;  but  good 

•BydMySiBiUiwddof  MMAoUiy:  *'Tm,  I  agree.  hcbocrUinly  mora  •grMAMtsinco 
hit  ratorn  from  India.  Hi«  cnemiea  might  havo  aaid  before  (though  I  Mver  did  ao)  thnt 
he  talked  nther  Uto  much ;  but  now  A«  kaa  oocatUmal  JUuhu  qf  $Um»ce  that  make  hl« 
ooDvenwUun  parfeoUy  delightfuL** 


18  TABLE  TALK.  [Part  H. 

talk  cannot  be  maintained  under  interruption,  and  observant  silence 
opens  the  pores  of  the  mind  as  impatient  demands  for  explanation 
never  do. — Bladcuioodtt  Magazine. 

Choice  of  Subject. — Tliis  complaisance  makes  one 
careful  to  avoid  subjects  that  might  offend,  and  especially 
to  refrain  from  questions  it  might  he  unpleasant  to  answer. 
**  Don't  talk  of  ropes  to  a  man  whose  father  lias  just  been 
hung,"  is  an  old  proverb.  Nor  should  one  speak  to  an  in- 
valid of  health,  to  a  bankrupt  of  integrity,  to  an  ignoramus 
of  scholarship,  to  bereaved  parents  of  children.  Especially 
should  one  shrink  from  boasting  of  any  possession  from 
which  the  other  is  necessarily  cut  off. 

"  I  hope  your  dinner  agreed  with  you  ?  **  queried  a  host,  soHci- 
touHly. 

"  That  is  a  matter  which  lies  entirely  between  my  Maker  and 
m>'8olf,"  ^-as  the  solemn  reply. 

A  ixTson  took  the  liberty  to  question  Alexander  Dumas  rather 
closoly  concerning  his  genealogical  tree. 

'•  You  are  a  quadroon,  M.  Dumas  ?'*  he  began. 

"lam,  sir." 

"And  your  father?" 

"  Was  a  mulatto." 

"  And  your  grandfather  ?  " 

"  A  negro,"  hastily  answered  the  dramatist,  whose  patience  was 
waning. 

"And  may  I  ask  what  your  great-grandfather  was  ?  " 

"An  ape,  sir,"  thundered  Dumas  ;  "  my  i>edigi-ee  begins  where 
yours  terminates." 

Discretion  in  Personal  Remarks. — As  one  set- 
ting out  in  a  sail-boat  glances  ahead  over  tlie  water  to  avoid 
ill  time  any  rocks  or  shoals  before  him,  so  one's  first  thought 
in  beginning  a  conversation  should  be  a  review  of  what 
one  knows  of  one's  companion,  with  a  view  to  escape  blun- 
dering upon  an  untimely  topic.     And  as  one  sails  freely  in 


(MAI     11]      DISCRETION  IN  PERSONAL  REMARKS.  19 

the  open  sea,  but  slowly  and  cautiously  as  he  approaches 
an  unknown  shore,  so  in  talking  with  a  stranger  the  skilful 
converser  keeps  among  life's  generalities,  and  bears  himself 
warily  as  subjects  are  suggested  that  may  have  personal 
application. 

Punch  delights  to  illustrate  how  hazardous  in  a  mixed  company 
are  criticisms  upon  individuals. 

*'  Pray  who  is  that  awkwai'd  creature  by  the  piano  ? "  asks  a 
stranger  of  a  chance  companion. 

**  That  is  my  sister,"  is  the  grim  reply. 

**  Oh,  I  don't  mean  the  handsome  woman  to  the  left !  "  cries  the 
first  speaker,  hoping  to  retrieve  himself,  '•  but  that  red-haired 
Amazon  to  the  right,  whose  dress  makes  up  in  boldness  of  color  for 
its  scantiness  of  material." 

"  That,  sir,  is  my  wife." 

It  is  a  peculiarity  of  this  sort  of  blundering  that  the  victim, 
having  taken  a  false  step,  is  apt  to  flounder  and  mire  himself  the 
deeper. 

"  Who  is  that  distressingly  homely  woman  in  the  comer?  "  asks 
one,  and  when  he  gets  the  reply,  "  She  happens  to  be  my  mother, 
sir,"  he  exclaims  in  confusion,  '*  I  really  beg  your  pardon  ;  it  was 
so  stupid  of  mo  ;  the  resemblance  is  very  marked." 

Of  a  stranger  at  an  art-exhibition  a  lady  inquires : 

*•  Pray,  how  did  they  come  to  admit  such  a  picture  as  that  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  you  don't  like  it,  madam,  for  it  is  mine." 

•'  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  bought  it  ?  " 

*•  Oh,  no  ;  I  only  imintcd  it." 

*'  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons  ;  but  you  mustn't  mind  me,  I  only 
repeat  what  evert/hod  1/  gai/s." 

Now  and  then  one  has  the  tact  gracefully  to  escape. 

"  Do  tell  me  who  is  that  woman  on  the  ottoman,  that  looks  like 
a  Chinese,"  asks  a  lady  of  the  gentleman  with  whom  she  is  prome- 
nading. 

•'  Tliat  is  my  wife,  mmlam  ;  and  pray  might  I  inquire  in  what 
particulars  she  reseuiblcH  a  Chinese?" 

"  Why,  in  the  exquisite  smallucss  of  her  feet.  You  must  intro- 
duce me.** 


20  TABLE-TALK.  [Part  II 

Not  long  after  his  removal  from  the  liouHe  of  Commons  to  the 

House  of  Lords,  Disraeli  met  a  broth»^»-  i »•  '»»'  t»'o  ^*^f^ot  who 

asked  him  how  he  liked  the  change. 

"Like  it?**  exclaimed  Disraeli,  forgetting  hiuiiielf  for  the  mo- 
ment and  blundering  out  the  tnitli,  "  I  feel  as  if  I  were  dead  or 
buried  alive.** 

Then  seeing  the  expression  of  discomfiture  on  the  nobleman's 
fjico,  he  added  hastily,  with  a  courtly  bow  and  an  irresistible  smile 
— "  and  in  the  land  of  the  blessed.** 

But  such  tact,  however  desirable,  is  rare,  and  it  is  the  safest 
rule,  when  one  has  heedlessly  injured  the  sensibilities  of  another 
to  manifest  no  perception  of  it,  but  quietly  and  naturally  to  change 
the  subject,  taking  especial  pains  to  select  one  that  shall  gratify 
one's  companion  in  some  other  direction,  if  it  cannot  repair  the 
hurt  he  has  suffered  in  this. 

It  is  true  that  ill-natured  remarks  like  those  just  quoted  are  in 
themselves  reprehensible.  But  even  if  one  is  scrupulous  to  speak 
no  ill  of  one's  neighbor,  one  will  not  always  avoid  giving  offence. 
Though  one  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and  smear  everything  one 
encounters  with  indiscriminate  eulogy,  one  will  occasionally  find 
that  his  words  are  as  wormwood.  The  man  of  tact  will  therefore 
learn  all  he  can  of  those  with  whom  he  is  to  converse ;  will  select 
those  topics  most  likely  to  be  of  agreeable  interest ;  and  when  after 
all  his  ])ains  he  stumbles  into  a  bhmder,  will  be  quick  to  discover 
it,  and  (juick  to  withdraw  from  it. 

Developing  the  Subject. — Not  only  the  choice 
of  a  subject,  but  the  manner  of  treatment  should  be  deter- 
mined by  consideration  for  one's  companion.  If  it  prove 
familiar  and  interesting  to  him  it  should  be  continued  even 
after  one  has  tired  of  it,  or  should  be  so  changed  as  to 
seem  to  be  dismissed,  not  because  it  is  exhausted,  but  be- 
cause with  such  a  companion  there  are  so  many  other  sub- 
jects one  longs  to  discuss.  Kothing  is  ruder  than  to  yawn, 
to  seem  abstracted,  or  abruptly  to  terminate  a  conversa- 
tion still  fascinating  to  one's  companion.  This  not  only 
wounds  his  self-love  bv  sliowinsf  him  that  he  fails  to  talk 


riiM     II  ]     HE  TALKS  BEST  WHO  LISTENS  BEST.  21 

interestingly,  but  discloses  a  lack  of  sympathy  in  thought 
which  is  fatal  to  intimacy. 

A  tedious  person  is  one  a  man  would  leap  a  steeple  from,  gallop 
down  any  steep  hill  to  avoid  him ;  forsake  his  meat,  sleep,  nature 
itself  with  all  her  benefits,  to  shun  him.  A  mere  imj^ertinent ; 
one  that  touched  neither  heaven  nor  earth  in  his  discourse.  He 
opened  an  entry  into  a  fair  room,  but  shut  it  again  presently.  I 
spake  to  him  of  garlic,  he  answered  asparagus  ;  consulted  him  of 
marriage,  he  tells  me  of  hanging,  as  if  they  went  by  one  and  the 
same  destiny.— Ben  Jonson. 

Bores  and  Hobbies. — Against  the  bore,  or  the 
man  with  a  liobby,  cMie  must  of  course  protect  one's  self  ; 
though  this  is  done  most  skilfully  by  avoiding  the  former 
and  by  steering  the  latter  away  from  his  morbidly  devel- 
oped ideas.  But  when  a  person  will  insist  npon  tiring  one 
with  his  pet  tlieory  or  grievance,  it  is  better  to  say  frankly : 

'*  Mr. ,  you  really  must  excuse  me   from   discussing 

this  subject  further,"  than  to  look  exhausted,  or  to  run 
away  from  him.  In  the  former  case  one  w\\\  seem  to  him 
to  fail  to  appreciate  the  subject,  in  the  latter  to  fail  to 
appreciate  the  man  himself. 

But  the  necessity  for  such  pronounced  measures  is  not  common 
in  small  talk,  where  the  object  is  rather  to  develop  conversation 
in  one's  companion  than  to  limit  it  or  direct  it.  If  he  is  a  stran- 
ger, one  vriW  not  be  sorry  to  see  him  mount  his  hobby  for  the  first 
time,  and  if  he  is  an  acquaintance,  one  can  usually  manage  that 
the  interview  be  brief.  In  this  light  conversation  it  is  a  general 
rule,  at  least  to  seem  to  follow  the  lead  of  one's  companion,  so  far 
as  he  is  willing  to  assume  it. 

Importance  of  Listening.— It  is  a  fundamental 
principle  that  he  seems  to  l»is  companion  to  liave  talke<l 
best  who  has  hnl  his  companion  to  talk  most.  In  other 
words,  he  talks  best  who  listens  best.     Nowhei*c  is  sellish- 


23  TABLE-TALK.  [Part  II. 

ness  more  blind  than  when  it  monopolizes  a  conversation. 
Only  small  minds  are  more  anxions  to  tell  what  they  have 
learned  than  to  learn  something  more. 

**  Men  of  genius,"*  aajs  Coleridge,  **  are  rarely  much  annoyed  in 
the  oompany  of  vulgar  people,  because  they  have  a  power  of  looking 
at  such  people,  as  objects  of  amusement,  of  another  race  altogether." 

*'  When  I  hear  a  young  man  call  Aristotle  a  fool,  and  Sophocles 
a  knave,  *"  said  a  college  president,  "  it  does  not  materially  affect 
my  opinion  of  Aristotle  and  Sophocles,  but  it  gives  me  a  gauge  by 
which  to  measure  the  young  man.** 

During  the  late  Vienna  Exposition  an  amiable  Hungarian  mer- 
chant liapi>ened  to  meet  in  a  railway  carriage  a  gentleman  with 
whom  he  proceeded  to  hold  conversation. 

**  I  am  going  to  Vienna,'*  said  the  merchant,  '♦  to  see  my  daugh- 
ter, who  is  well  married  there.  My  son-in-law  deals  in  paper  and 
fancy  leather  work,  and  has  a  good  trade.     He  is  very  prosperous." 

"  I,  too,'*  said  the  good-natured  stranger,  "am  going  to  see  my 
daughter  and  son-in-law." 

'*  All,  is  your  son-in-law  well  off?'* 

'*  Pretty  well ;  but  as  he  has  to  carry  on  his  work  all  alone,  it 
is  rather  tiresome." 

*•  Is  your  daughter  rich  ?  " 

*•  Not  as  rich  as  she  would  like  to  be." 

"  She  likes  to  spend  a  good  deal  on  her  toilet  ?  " 

"No;  but  she  would  like  to  be  able  to  give  a  good  deal  in 
charity." 

"  She  is  a  good  woman,"  said  the  merchant,  heartily  ;  "  it*s  to 
be  hoped  your  son-in-law's  business  will  improve.  Good-by,  sir. 
C5ome  to  see  us,  and  bring  your  daughter ;  we  shall  be  happy  to 
make  her  acquaintance." 

The  train  arrived  at  the  station,  and  the  traveller,  whose  son-in- 
law's  business  was  only  pretty  good,  was  immediately  surrounded 
by  grand  personages  in  uniform.  After  having  politely  saluted 
the  amazed  merchant,  he  stepped  into  the  carriage  of  the  Emperor 
of  Austria.  The  good  father-in-law  of  the  dealer  in  paj^r  and 
fancy  leather  goods  ha<l  l)een  travelling  with  the  Prince  Max,  of 
Bavaria,  father  of  the  Empress  Elizabeth. 


Chap.  II.]  IMPORTANCE  OF   LISTENING.  23 

The  Wise  always  Ready  to  Learn. — There  arc 
three  degrees  of  intelligence.  Lowest  is  that  of  the  rustic,  to 
wliom  everything  is  a  marvel.  Then  comes  the  blast  man, 
who  has  been  everywhere,  seen  everything,  read  every- 
thinjr,  and  would  be  untrue  to  himself  if  he  manifested  in 
anything  more  than  languid  interest.  This  is  a  not  un- 
common conception  of  "  Boston  culture."  Finally,  there  is 
the  broad  mind,  familiar  with  the  master-pieces  of  nature, 
and  art,  and  thought,  but  finding  an  ever-renewed  interest 
in  studying  the  effect  of  either  knowledge  or  ignorance  of 
these  master-pieces  upon  the  minds  of  those  about  him. 
Such  men  are  always  ready  to  listen,  and  one's  mental  dis- 
tance from  them  may  be  measured  by  one's  tendency  to 
assume  that  nothing  is  to  be  learned  from  a  chance  com- 
panion, especially  if  such  companion  has  had  less  educa- 
tional or  social  advantages. 

•'  The  young  man  called  John  "  would  seem  to  most  jjei-sons  an 
unendurable  infliction  at  the  autocrat's  breakfast-table,  but  auto- 
crat and  professor  take  him  seriously  as  a  factor  in  life,  deal  with 
him  firmly  but  kindly,  and  end  by  heartily  liking  him. 

Interruptions. — There  are  people  who  never  allow 
another  to  conclude  a  sentence.  So  eager  are  they  to  ob- 
trude their  knowledge  and  opinions,  and  to  hear  their  own 
voices,  that  they  keep  \ip  interruptions  so  continuous  that 
their  companion  withdraws  altogether,  leaving  them  to 
evolve  out  of  their  imaginations  the  facts  he  was  willing 
to  impart. 

A  new8pai)er  sketch  thus  caricatures  an  ill-bred  family  : 
Tlie  other  evening  the  Rev.  Mr.  Marcus  sat  down  at  the  tea-table 
with  a  thoughtful  air,  and  attondeil  to  the  wants  of  his  chiklren  in 
an  al)8traoied  manner.     Presently  he  looked  np  at  his  wife,  and 
said : 

••  Tlie  AiHMtle  Paul "* 


24  TABLE-TALK. 


[Pabt  n. 


••Got  an  awfol  Inmp  on  the  head  this  afternoon,"  broke  in  the 
pastor's  eldest  son,  "  playing  base-ball.  Bat  flew  out  of  the  strik- 
er's hands  when  I  was  umpire,  and  hit  me  right  above  the  ear." 

The  clergyman  gravely  paosed  for  the  interruption  and  then 
resumed : 

••  The  Apostle  Paul " 

•'  Saw  Mrs.  Simmons  down  at  Hovey's  this  afternoon,**  said  the 
eldest  daughter,  addressing  her  mother.  ••  She  had  the  same  black 
Kilk  matle  over,  with  a  vest  of  green  silk,  coat-tail  basque,  over- 
skirt  made  with  diagonal  folds  in  front,  edged  with  deep  fringe  ; 
yellow  straw  hat  with  black  velvet  facing  inside  the  brim,  and  pale 
blue  flowers.     She's  going  to  Chicago.*' 

The  good  minister  waited  patiently,  and  then  in  tones  just  a 
shade  louder  than  before,  began : 

••  The  Apostle  Paul ** 

•*  Went  in  swimming  last  night  with  Henry  and  Ben,  papa,  and 
stepped  on  a  clam-shell,"  exclaimed  the  youngest  son  ;  "  cut  my 
foot  so  I  can't  wear  a  shoe,  and,  please,  can't  I  stay  at  home  to- 
morrow ?  " 

The  pastor  informed  his  son  that  he  might  stay  away  from  the 
river,  and  then  resumed  his  topic.     He  said : 

"  The  Apostle  Paul  says " 

**  My  teacher  is  an  awful  liar,"  shouted  the  second  son  ;  **  he 
says  the  world  is  as  round  as  an  orange,  and  it  turns  round  all  the 
time  faster  than  a  circus-man  can  ride.  I  guess  he  don't  have  much 
sense." 

The  mother  lifted  a  warning  finger  toward  the  boy  and  said, 
"  Sh  !  "  and  the  father  resumed  : 

♦'  The  Apostle  Paul  says " 

"  Don't  bite  off  so  much,"  broke  out  the  eldest  son,  reproving 
the  assault  of  his  little  brother  upon  a  piece  of  cake. 

The  pastor's  face  showed  just  a  trifle  of  annoyance  as  he  said, 
in  very  firm,  decided  tones, 

"The  Apostle  Paul  says " 

"There's  a  fly  in  the  butter,"  shrieked  the  youngest  hopeful  of 
the  family,  and  a  general  lau^h  followed.  When  silence  was  re- 
stored the  eldest  daughter  said  with  an  air  of  curiosity  : 

'Well,  but,  pa,  I  really  would  like  to  know  what  the  Apostle 
Paul  said." 


(II A 1     II.  j         DO  NOT  SEEK  TO  BE  BRILLIANT.  25 

**  Pass  me  the  mnstard,"  said  the  pastor,  absently  ;  and  the  meal 
was  finished  without  further  allusion  to  the  great  ajwstle. 

Listening   Received  as  a  Compliment. — l^o 

flattery  is  more  insinuating,  no  proof  of  good  sense  more 
convincing,  than  intelligent  listening.  It  is  said  that 
a  deaf  and  dumb  man,  properly  instructed,  was  introduced 
to  Mme.  do  Stael  and  was  left  with  her  for  an  hour.  He 
made  show  of  listening,  smiled,  tumed  his  head  to  reflect, 
was  convinced,  became  enthusiastic,  and  started  again  and 
again  to  express  his  admiration,  only  to  be  once  more 
overwhelmed  in  the  delighted  woman's  torrent  of  ideas. 
At  the  end  of  the  interview  she  declared  him  the  most 
brilliant  converser  she  had  ever  met. 

The  woman  of  tact  puts  the  bashful  young  man  at  his  ease,  not 
by  saying  brilliant  things  to  him,  but  by  showing  interest  in  the 
stupid  things  he  says  to  her  till  he  gains  confidence  enough  to  say 
things  better  worth  hearing.  She  knows  that  he  will  estimate  the 
evening  not  by  what  ho  has  heard,  but  by  what  he  has  said,  and  if 
she  has  the  skill  to  reclothe  or  touch  up  his  thoughts  so  as  to  give 
them  striking  expression,  while  they  shall  still  seem  to  be  his,  she 
may  indeed  evoke  less  conscious  admiration  for  her  conversational 
talent  than  if  shclmd  showered  him  with  epigrams,  because  he  \^'ill 
be  unaware  that  his  unusual  brilliancy  is  due  to  anything  else  than 
his  own  unsuspected  talents  ;  but  she  will  \nn,  as  she  desen'es  to 
win,  his  far  more  valuable  atlmiratiou  of  her  as  a  charming  woman. 
Wlien  he  is  older,  and  has  learned  the  soci-ct  that  then  escai)ed 
liim,  he  \i-ill  look  back  ujKjn  tlie  evening  with  an  admiration  for 
her  skill  the  greater  because  he  at  first  failed  to  recognize  it,  and 
the  more  cordial  because  it  was  so  unobtrusive. 

Desire  to  be  Brilliant.— Perhaps  the  greatest  ob- 
stacle to  success  in  table-talk  is  the  longing  to  be  brilliant 

As  Adolphns  sips  his  morning  glass  at  the  Hathom  Spring  he 
catches  the  eye  of  Mrs.  Smith,  whom  he  met  at  the  hoj)  the  night 
before.     He  says  "  Good  morning,"  and  then  he  is  at  a  loss.     He 


26  TABLE-TALK.  [Part  II. 

knows  how  long  Bhe  has  been  there,  how  long  she  means  to  stay, 
and  how  she  likes  it,  for  he  asked  her  these  three  questions  as  soon 
OS  he  was  introduced.  He  does  not  feel  like  remarking  that  it  is 
^-arm,  that  Saratoga  begins  to  seem  crowded,  and  that  the  races 
o])en  that  afternoon,  because  he  thinks  those  she  lias  met  must 
alreatly  liavo  exhausted  these  topics.  WTiat  he  would  like  to  do 
would  be  to  make  some  learned  allusion  to  Hippocrenc  or  some 
other  famous  spring,  with  a  compliment  to  the  lady  ;  but  he  is  not 
quite  sure  how  Hippocrenc  is  pronounced,  or  whether  it  was  a 
spring,  and  he  cannot  think  of  any  compliment.  So  after  a  mo- 
ment's awkwardness  he  bows  and  passes,  leaving  Mrs.  Smith  to 
wonder  why  young  men  tliat  can  dance  so  well  are  so  stupid  at 
everything  else. 

Now,  Adolphus  should  have  remembered  that  conversation  is 
like  a  game  of  whist,  in  which  one's  own  liand  gives  no  indication 
of  wliat  one's  jwirtncr  holds.  The  player  is  hoj^eless  who  throws 
down  his  cards  because  he  has  not  five  trumps  and  three  aces. 
Weak  as  it  looks,  his  hand  may  be  just  what  is  needed  to  supple- 
ment the  commanding  strength  of  his  partner.  It  is  his  duty  to 
l)lay  his  sevens  and  eights  for  all  they  ai-e  worth  as  zealously  as 
if  they  were  head-sequences. 

So  if  Adolphus  cannot  think  of  a  brilliant  thing  to  say,  he 
should  throw  out  a  common-place,  and  trust  to  his  partner.  The 
main  thing  is  to  get  started.  Perhaps  Mrs.  Smith  is  brimming 
over  vrith  bright  things,  and  will  enjoy  the  conversation  the  more 
because  Adolphus  has  so  little  to  say  that  he  is  glad  to  listen.  At 
the  worst,  it  is  unlikely  that  a  dozen  remarks  can  pass,  however 
trite,  without  suggesting  something  of  interest.  With  a  stranger 
one  must  grope  for  a  subject  somewhat  blindly,  but  unless  one  has 
the  courage  to  grope,  the  subject  will  never  come  to  the  surface. 

Frank  Good  Nature. — Xotbing  is  more  fatal  to 
table-talk  than  a  sort  of  stilted  dignity. 

Some  men  sj^eak  as  if  a  leather  stock  kept  their  cliins  elevated 
like  those  of  a  militia-regiment  on  dress-parade.  They  reply  to  a 
playful  question  with  a  gravity  befitting  a  geometrical  demonstra- 
tion, they  articulate  with  painful  distinctness,  and  they  eontimi- 
ally  address  you  as   "  Sir,"  or  «'  Madam,"  with  a  formality  that 


Chap.  II  1  THE  LICENSES  OP  TABLE  TALK.  27 

shows  less  regard  for  yonr  dignity  than  determination  that  you 
shall  not  forget  theirs.  Unless  this  ice  can  be  thawed,  talk  is  im- 
possible. To  such  a  person  no  communication  should  be  made  of 
less  import  than  that  England  has  declared  war,  that  a  new  motor 
has  been  discovered,  or  that  dinner  is  ready. 

Exaggeration  of  Preferences- — Table-talk  is  to 
conversation  what  caricature  is  to  painting.  In  so  brief  a 
discussion  of  topics  distinctive  features  must  be  exagger- 
ated. 

Questions  of  taste  are  perhaps  most  fertile,  and  to  make  diver- 
gencies marked  enough  for  comment,  it  is  customary  somewliat  to 
exaggerate  their  expression.  It  is  not  that  one  should  '*  dote  on  " 
or  "detest"  what  one  finds  merely  unobjectionable  or  disagreea- 
ble, but  rather  tliat  one  is  led  for  the  sake  of  discussion  to  take 
sides  upon  mattei*s  which  he  has  hitherto  regarded  as  indifferent. 
Listening  to  masters  of  table-talk  who  are  really  i*ather  conven- 
tional in  their  ^^ews  one  might  supix)se  them  pronounced  radi- 
cals upon  the  merest  trifles.  This  is  not  deception,  any  more  than 
it  is  deception  in  a  caricature  to  exaggerate  the  nose  or  chin  that 
gives  a  statesman's  face  indi\'idual  expression  ;  in  fact,  as  one 
recognizes  a  face  more  readily  from  a  caricature  than  from  a  por- 
trait, so  this  table-talk  often  reveals  unx^-ittiugly  more  of  the  inner 
man  tlian  is  shown  in  serious  convei-sation.  A  chance  confession, 
hastily  dropjied  to  complete  an  antithesis,  may  uncover  to  a  keen 
eye  what  in  delilwrate  discourse  would  have  remained  concealed. 

Moreover,  this  exaggerating  the  outlines  of  one's  personal  pref- 
orences  often  leads  to  convictions.  Sometimes,  no  doubt,  harm  is 
done  by  espousing  a  belief  through  whimsicality  and  then  ad- 
hering to  it  through  obstinacy.  But  in  the  sjiarkle  of  table-talk 
the  candid  mind  often  happens  upon  important  considemtions 
that  have  hitherto  escaped  it,  and,  following  a  line  of  thought 
suggested  by  a  playful  fancy,  arrives  at  convictions  of  (xwitive 
>'alae. 

Playful  Liberties. — As  one  may  speak  with  frolic- 
some e.xjiggeration  of  one's  preferences,  so  one  may  take 
playful    liberties  with  the  dignity  of   one's   companions. 


28  TABLE  TALK.  [Pari    IT 

Liglit  conversation  is  dull  without  soinetliin*^  of  the  ^'cou« 
tagion  of  hardihood''  that  Disraeli  describes. 

But  nothing  is  more  difficult  to  hedge  abont  with  mles.  JoM 
phine  is  a  strong,  vigorous  girl,  with  more  muscles  than  nerves, 
and  more  appetite  than  sensibility.  The  severer  a  joke  the  more 
keenly  she  enjoys  it,  and  not  the  less  if  it  is  aimed  at  herself.  She 
cannot  understand  why  Carolin  should  be  hurt  at  a  hearty  laugh 
over  a  blunder  committetl  or  a  weakness  manifested ;  and  so 
without  an  unkind  thought  she  is  continually  rasping  Carolin's 
finer  feelings,  and  wondering  why  the  silly  creature  cannot  take  a 
joke. 

Never  Twit  on  Facts. — One  should  never  rally  an- 
otlier  on  a  real  weakness,  however  freely  a^'knowledged. 
Constitutionally  large  eaters  should  be  able  to  endure 
almost  any  kinti  of  a  joke,  and  especially  a  gleeful  refer- 
ence to  their  appetites ;  yet  it  often  happens  that  a  per- 
son so  rallied,  though  too  proud  to  show  it,  and  therefore 
quick  to  join  in  the  laugh  that  follows,  is  really  annoyed, 
and  loses  much  of  his  pleasure  at  meals  because  of  his  sen- 
sitiveness to  the  imputation  of  greediness.  Every  one 
has  his  pet  foible  which  may  not  be  rudely  jostled ;  and 
one  should  know  a  companion  well  before  one  ventures  to 
poke  at  him  any  fun  which  has  a  basis  in  fact. 

A  certain  confidence  is  shown  hy  bantering  a  person  upon  an 
assumed  fault  which  the  fact  that  we  banter  him  upon  it  shows  we 
are  sure  he  is  free  from.  A  more  unfortunate  blunder,  except  that 
it  was  so  stupid  as  to  be  ridiculous,  could  hardly  be  imagined  than 
that  of  the  clerk  in  a  New  Haven  shoe-store  who,  when  a  lady  who 
had  dragged  for  half  a  block  before  she  perceived  them  a  pair  of 
light  shoes  accidentally  attached  to  her  crinoline,  returned  to  the 
store  to  remove  them  and  to  laugh  over  the  queer  accident,  repUed 
gravely,  "  I  saw  you  take  them  away,  madam,  but  I  did  not  like  to 
speak  of  it." 


Chap.  II. ]  THE  LICENSES  OF  TABLETALK.  29 

Banter. — There  is  in  personal  banter  an  element  of 
sauciness  as  hazardous  as  it  is  delightful.  Just  what  it  is 
safe  to  say,  and  just  when  and  where  to  say  it,  only  native 
tact  and  quick  perception  can  determine.  It  is  here  more 
than  anywhere  else  that  the  artist  shows  above  the  arti- 
san. No  rules  will  avail,  except  the  general  rule,  that  the 
person  who  has  usually  blundered  should  hereafter  leave 
badinage  to  more  skilful  hands. 

Irreverence  and  Indelicacy. — A  similar  rule  ap- 
plies to  anything  bordering  upon  the  irreverent  and  the 
indelicate.  In  such  allusions  there  is  an  element  of  daring 
which  gives  a  sensation  of  keen  enjoyment  to  those  who 
feel  secure,  but  corresponding  uneasiness  to  those  uncer- 
tain of  the  issue.  The  difficulty  is  complicated  among 
strangers,  because  ideals  of  the  reverent  and  delicate  vary 
so  widely,  that  being  commonplace  to  one  which  to  an- 
other is  shocking.  But  no  caution  is  better  worth  heeding 
than  to  keep  well  within  the  danger-line. 

A  man  advertised  for  a  coachman,  and  received  three  appUcants. 
Of  each  he  asked,: 

••  Suppose  we  were  riding  on  top  of  a  bluff,  how  near  could  you 
drive  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  there  should  be  no  danger?" 

"Sir,"  replied  the  first,  •'  I  could  drive  within  an  inch  of  the 
edge,  and  there  should  be  no  danger." 

"  And  I,"  said  the  second,  "could  drive  within  a  hair's  breadth, 
and  there  should  be  no  danger." 

"  As  for  me,"  said  the  third,  "I  should  keep  as  far  away  from 
the  edge  as  I  could ;  "  and  the  third  was  engaged. 

Prudery. — It  by  no  means  follows  tliat  one  should  be 
prudish.  To  speak  of  one's  leg  as  a  limb,  or  to  shrink 
from  mentioning  articles  of  apparel  when  there  is  occasion, 
reveals  either  a  lewd  mind  or  a  habit  of  mingling  with 
those  adhering  to  traditions  of  impropriety  suggested  by 
lewd  minds. 


80  TABLE-TALK.  [Part  IL 

Ignoring  Discourtesy.— The  skilful  con verser  ig- 
nores discourtesy  iu  speech.  If  Jiis  companion  is  rude 
he  does  not  revenge  liiniself  by  severe  retort,  however  apt, 
as  lie  would  thereby  lower  himself  to  the  other's  level,  and 
encourage  a  wrangle.  If  his  companion  inclines  to  irrev- 
erence or  indelicacy  lie  turns  the  subject  into  other  chan- 
nels, careful  not  to  show  approval,  but  equally  careful  not 
to  pronounce  judgment  of  reproach  for  what  may  have 
been  a  fault  of  early  training  or  the  accident  of  the 
moment.  His  companion  will  recognize  that  he  has  blun- 
dered, but  he  will  not  be  compelled  to  show  that  lie  recog- 
nizes it,  and  thus  a  conversation  that  would  otherwise  have 
been  cut  unpleasantly  short  may  be  diverted  into  less  ob- 
jectionable channels. 

Perhaps  no  general  role  is  so  nearly  without  exception,  as  that 
one  should  never  permit  one's  self  to  repeat  a  >'ulgar  story.  Even 
that  peculiar  appropriateness  of  circumstances  which,  except  for 
its  coarseness,  would  make  it  precisely  the  fitting  thing— a  rare 
temptation  to  story-tellei-s — will  not  atone  for  its  introduction. 
When  a  man  cleai-s  his  throat  and  hesitates  and  ^ays  he  does  not 
usually  indulge  in  that  sort  of  anecdote,  some  good  friend  should 
jog  his  elbow  and  warn  him  to  pause.  We  have  heard  worthy  men 
yield  to  this  temptation,  but  never  without  being  apprehensive  for 
them  when  they  began,  and  sorry  for  them  when  they  finished. 
Wit,  hilarity,  promotion  of  the  good  fellowship  prevailing,  all 
prompt  the  man  who  knows  a  story  just  apropos  to  tell  it.  But 
not  for  all  these  considerations  should  he  yield  that  essential  ele- 
ment of  a  gentleman — a  cleanly  tongue. 

While  one  should  never  tell  such  stories,  there  are  times  when 
he  must  listen  to  them.  With  those  of  one's  own  age  and  posi- 
tion it  is  often  possible  simply  and  quietly  to  decline  to  listen  ;  but 
with  those  whom  it  would  be  unbecoming  thus  to  reprove  one  must 
simply  show  lack  of  interest.  A  lady  of  tact  used  to  discourage 
scandal  by  looking  stupid  when  it  was  talked  to  her.  Such  refuse  is 
not  poured  profusely  into  an  unwilling  ear.     Harpies  fly  in  flocks. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


VALUE  OF  READINESS  in  conversation,  pp   1,  14. 
EASY  CONVERSATION  AN  ART,  pp.  14-16. 

Often  even  direct  preparation  required,  pp.  15,  16. 
Conversational  artists  succeed  because  they  try,  p.  16. 
FUNDAMENTAL  PRINCIPLE,  not  to  sliine,  but  to  please,  pp.  16-18. 

Attention  to  others  the  tutor  of  the  tongue,  p.  17. 
CHOICE  OF  SUBJECT  with  reference  to  one's  companion,  p.  18. 
Rude  questions  rebuked,  p.  18. 
Discretion  in  personal  remarks,  pp.  18-20. 
False  steps  lead  to  floundering,  p.  19. 
Escape  by  rare  tact,  pp.  19,  20. 
Usually  wise  to  betray  no  recognition,  p.  20. 
DEVELOPMENT    OF    SUBJECT    determined    by    consideration   foi 
others,  p.  20. 

Not  to  be  abruptly  discontinued,  p.  20. 

Protection  against  bores  and  hobbies,  p.  21. 
IMPORTANCE  OF  LISTENING,  pp.  21-25. 

Blindness  of  monopolizing  a  conversation,  p.  22. 

The  wise  always  ready  to  learn,  p.  23. 
Rudeness  of  interruptions,  pp.  28-25. 
Listening  received  as  a  compliment,  p.  25. 
DESIRE  TO  BE  BRILLIANT,  pp.  25,  26. 

Whatever  cards  you  hold,  give  your  partner  a  chance,  p.  26. 
FRANK  GOOD  NATURE,  p.  26. 
EXAGGERATION  OF  PREFERENCES,  p.  27. 
PLAYFUL  LIBERTIES,  pp.  27-29. 
The  contagion  of  hardihood,  p.  28. 
Never  twit  on  facts,  p.  28. 

Confidence  shown  by  absurd  accusations,  p.  28. 
Banter,  p.  28. 
Irreverence  and  indelicacy,  p.  29. 

Safest  to  keep  away  from  the  edge,  p.  29. 
But  prudery  to  be  avoided,  x>>  29. 
IGNORING  DISCOURTESY,  p.  30. 
Uow  to  treat  mlgar  stories,  p.  80. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONa 

What  should  the  astronomer  have  said  *  (page  14).  What  do  you  think 
of  the  speakers  in  the  incidents  mentioned  on  page  18  ?  How  should 
AdolphuH  (page  25)  have  begun  the  conversation  ? 

What  do  you  think  of  this  remark  of  Emerson's  ?  *'  Tis  not  a  compli- 
ment but  a  di.sparagement  to  consult  a  man  only  on  horses,  or  on  steam, 
or  on  theatres,  or  on  eating,  or  on  books,  and,  whenever  he  appears,  con- 
siderately to  turn  the  couveftatiou  to  the  bantling  he  is  known  to  fondle. 


CHAPTER  III. 

GOSSIP. 

The  proper  Mtndy  of  mankind  \n  man.— Pors. 

Interest  In  Our  Neighbors. — Xo  subject  is  more 
fertile  than  the  doings  and  characters  of  our  neighbors. 
Few  objects  of  observation  are  so  varying,  so  personally 
interesting.  Daily  circumstances  keep  revealing  new  feat- 
ures, and  dim  or  deepen  impressions  already  formed.  A 
pleasant  nod,  a  rude  reply,  a  becoming  gown,  a  boisterous 
laugh,  ill-temper  toward  a  child,  attention  to  the  aged — 
trifles  like  these  are  constantly  noted  and  accumulated  to 
make  up  our  final  estimate  of  the  individual.  It  is  not 
that  we  pry  into  secrets.  Xo  one  is  more  to  be  pitied  than 
one  so  empty  of  mind  that  one's  curiosity  must  be  fed  by 
impertinent  watchfulness  and  inquiry  about  one's  neigh - 
boi« ;  but  without  disposition  of  this  kind  we  cannot  fail 
to  keep  learning  of  those  about  us  from  what  they  tell  us 
of  themselves,  and  from  what  thrusts  itself  upon  our  ob- 
servation. 

That  we  should  consider  these  indications,  compare 
them,  and  gradually  form  convictions  as  to  our  neighbors' 
characters  is  inevitable.  If  we  do  so  charitably,  unbiassed 
by  envy  or  prejudice  or  whim,  we  are  wiser  and  happier 
for  it.  That  we  should  compare  and  discuss  these  impres- 
sions of  a  new  neigrhbor  with  tried  and  trusted  friends — 
still  charitably,  without  envy,  seeking  simply  to  know  our 
neighbor  as  he  is — is  natural  and  jjesirable.     A  rule  that 


Chap.   Jil.j    To  W  lio.M.  AND  H<»\V.  WHEX,  AND  WHliUE.  33 

forbado  iis  tu  dirtc-nss  those  5ilK)iit  us,  or  to  discriminate  in 
discussing  them,  would  be  severe  and  unwise. 

The  Scandal-Monger. — But  on  no  subject  does  it 
more  become  us  to 

—Beware 
Of  whom  yoo  speak,  to  whom  you  apeak,  and  how,  and  when,  and  where. 

For  no  character  is  more  detestable  than  his  who  delights 
to  speak  evil  of  his  neighbors  in  any  of  the  degrees  of 
gossip,  babbler,  scandal-monger.  There  are  people  who 
covet  no  higher  triumph  than  to  be  the  first  to  tell  of 
somebody's  misfortune  or  crime.  Like  flies  that  fasten 
only  upon  putrid  meat,  they  remember  notliing  of  the  vir- 
tues of  their  neighbors,  but  let  slip  no  single  item  from 
the  catalogue  of  their  vices.  To  judge  from  their  reports 
of  their  companions,  one  would  think  they  had  never  as- 
sociated with  a  human  being  w^orthy  of  respect. 

It  is  within  the  power  of  every  young  man  to  make  and  keep  a 
resolution  never  to  utter  a  word  directly  or  indirectly  uncompli- 
mentary to  any  one.  If  such  young  persons  should  be  offered  a 
fortune  dejiendcnt  ujjon  success  in  this,  how  eaniestly  would  they 
guard  every  uttemnce.  And  yet  no  fortune  would  be  of  such  real 
benefit  to  any  youth  oh  a  luart  pure  and  free  from  all  cai-piug  and 
censure. — Hervfi'. 

ONving  to  a  strange  dflusion,  very  few  are  really  aware  of  their 
ovm  habit  of  indulgence  in  this  vice,  though  they  readily  remark  it 
in  others.  Indeed,  the  worst  offenders  would  be  amazed  should 
thoy  learn  the  truth.  If  one  lias  any  doubt  about  it  let  him  set 
down  thrice  a  day  in  a  blank-book,  as  nearly  as  one  can  recall  it, 
every  word  which  one  has  said  of  anybody  which  one  would  not 
repeat  to  his  face  or  have  said  of  one's  self.  If  one  occasionally  re- 
\new8  the  volume  one  will,  in  all  probability,  be  induced  to  reform 
the  habit. — Art  of  CmiverscUion. 

Truth  Often  a  Libel.— Detractors  often  excuse 
themselves  by  asserting  that  they  disseminate  only  facts. 


34  GOSSIP.  [Part  II. 

Even  if  this  were  true  it  would  not  excuse  them.  It  is  a 
maxim  of  English  law  that  the  greater  the  truth  the 
greater  is  the  libel. 

To  tell  what  is  strictly  tme  to  the  injury  of  another  is  frequently 
as  criminal  as  to  tell  what  is  false  to  his  injury.  It  may  be  the 
same  both  as  to  the  motive  that  actuated  it  and  the  results  which 
eventually  follow.  It  is  oftener  worse  than  better  in  every  respect. 
If  one  circulates  what  is  wholly  false  the  chances  are  that  the  slan< 
der  will  soon  be  detected  and  the  person  ^-ilified  emerge  from  the 
cloud  with  brighter  honors  than  ever ;  whereas  if  we  tell  of  a  real 
misdeed  of  another  he  may  never  have  the  boldness  to  deny  it,  so 
that  it  will  go  on  circulating  and  gaining  belief  all  his  days,  and 
perhaps  long  after  he  is  dead.  It  will  exert  a  secret  yet  blighting 
influence  on  his  reputation  and  move  on  before  him  like  some  im- 
seen  hand,  closing  in  his  face  every  door  to  usefulness.  No  matter 
that  he  has  repented  of  his  transgression,  and  has  radically  re- 
formed ;  no  matter  that  he  is  now  entitled  to  the  highest  admira- 
tion of  mankind,  some  detractor  has  wliispered  a  word  that  can 
never  be  recalled — a  word  which,  most  likely,  represented  him  to 
be  what  he  is  not  now,  if  not  worse  than  he  ever  was.  Yet  every- 
body boldly  and  industriously  circulates  the  report  because,  as  he 
says,  it  is  true. — Hebvey. 

Exposure  Sometimes  Necessary. — Exposure 
of  wrong-doing  is  sometimes  an  imperative  duty.  The 
good  of  the  State,  of  the  community,  at  least  of  individ- 
uals, may  be  imperilled  by  a  mask  of  hypocrisy  which  only 
we  can  or  have  courage  to  remove.  But  we  should  be  sure 
that  our  motive  for  interfering  is  really  the  welfare  of 
others,  and  not  the  gratification  of  our  own  envy  or  fond- 
ness for  gossip.  We  have  no  occasion  to  interfere  with 
the  good  name  of  another  unless  we  are  convinced  that 
he  is  making  use  of  it  to  accomplish  some  evil  purpose. 

A  point  of  special  difficulty  arises  when  a  person  whose 
guilty  secrets  we  know,  and  we  alone,  is  injuring  us  before 
the  public  by  repeating  tales  to  our  injury  which  an  un- 


Chap.  III.]  LIBEL  SELDOM  TRUTH.  85 

covering  by  iis  of  his  real  character  would  deprive  of 
harmful ness.  Under  these  circumstances  it  is  sometimes 
necessary  to  speak,  and  to  speak  severely.  But  as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  time  and  character  are  the  surest  vindicators. 
The  very  fact  that  we  are  aggrieved  prejudices  the  public 
against  our  story,  and  often  makes  it  wiser  for  us  to  suffer 
in  silence. 

The  greatest  and  most  numerous  wrongs  are  those  which  the 
strong  commit  against  the  weak  in  circumstances  where  none  but 
the  parties  are  witnesses  to  the  oflfence,  and  in  cases  in  which,  from 
the  imperfections  of  human  law,  redress  is  not  to  be  obtained.  The 
wise  suppress  such  grief  in  their  own  hearts,  considering  that  so- 
ciety takes  no  pleasure  in  hearing  individual  grievances.  Though 
it  is  extremely  difficult  to  hush  injured  justice,  as  she  laments  bit- 
terly within  us,  we  can  seldom  speak  in  our  own  defence  except  at 
the  cost  of  dignity,  or  probity,  or  candor.  The  aggressor  who 
does  not  trouble  others  with  arguments  in  his  own  defence  is  bet- 
ter received  in  society  than  the  aggrieved  who  oppresses  them 
with  the  story  of  liis  wrongs,  by  rei)eating  which  he  is  sure  to 
suffer  additional  wrong  from  their  reviews  of  the  case  ;  he  be- 
comes like  a  column  wliich,  having  once  begun  to  settle  upon 
its  treacherous  pedestal,  is  pressed  still  lower  by  bringing  down 
upon  its  capital  a  mass  it  did  not  before  support.  "We  had  bet- 
ter bear  in  silence  the  wrongs  we  suffer  than  by  our  groanings 
wake  up  a  crowd  of  sormisers  who  will,  in  all  likelihood,  take  sides 
against  us. 

When,  however,  it  becomes  our  duty,  as  it  sometimes  does,  to 
declare  what  is  discreditable  to  anotlier,  wo  must  strictly  limit 
ourselves  to  the  fact,  carefully  keeping  clear  of  all  comments,  in- 
ferences, and  opinions.  The  witness  may  not  assume  the  task  uf 
the  advocate  or  of  the  judge. — Hervey. 

Libel  Seldom  Truth.— But  libel  is  seldom  truth. 
"'Hie  originator  only  suspects  Mr.  Such-a-one  has  done 
the  deed,  or  hopes  he  did  it  not ;  the  second  person  be- 
lieves it,  or  thinks  it  would  be  in  keeping  with  his  known 


36  GOSSIP.  [Part  II. 

cliaracter  to  do  it ;  a  third  has  no  doubt  about  it ;  a  fourth 
offers  to  make  oath  that  he  is  worse  tlian  at  first  sus- 
pected. Thus  does  it  go  on  increasing  both  in  enormity 
and  credibility.  'Behold  how  great  a  matter  a  little  tire 
kindleth  : ' " 

Two  hooMt  trmrtwnwi  meeting  in  the  Strand, 
One  tuok  the  other  briddj  by  the  hand  ; 
•  Hark  ye,"  nakl  he,  '*  tis  ua  odd  rtorj-  thU, 
Ab<iut  the  crows  t  ^~"  I  don't  know  what  it  U,** 
Replied  hk  frieod.— "  No !  I'm  iuiri>riscd  at  that ; 
Wh(  re  I  come  from  it  i«  the  common  chat ; 
Bnt  von  Khali  henr  :  an  odd  afFair  indeed  t 
And  that  it  happened  they  lure  all  ngraed. 
Not  to  detain  yon  from  a  thing  ao  strange, 
A  gentleman,  that  Uvea  not  far  from  'Change, 
Thi«  week,  in  short,  as  all  the  alley  knows. 
Taking  a  poke,  has  thrown  up  three  black  crown** 
"  ImiwsKible  !  "— *'  Nay,  but  it'*«  really  true, 
I  had  it  from  good  hand«^  and  so  nviy  yon.'^ 
"  Prom  whoiw.  I  pray  f"    80  having  named  the  man. 
Straight  to  inqnire  his  rorioDs  ctimrade  ran. 
*'  Sir,  did  you  tell " — relating  the  affair — 
"  Yes,  sir.  I  did  ;  and  if  it's  worth  your  care. 
Ask  Mr.  Soch-a-one,  he  told  it  me. 
But,  by  the  by,  *twa«  two  black  crows  not  three.** 
RenolTed  to  trace  so  wondrous  an  events 
Whip  to  the  third  the  virtuoso  went, 
"  Sir"— and  so  forth—'  Why.  yes :  the  thing's  a  fact. 
Though,  in  regani  to  number  not  exact ; 
It  was  not  two  black  crows,  'twas  only  one ; 
The  truth  of  that  you  may  depend  upon. 
The  gentleman  himself  told  me  the  case." 
"  Where  may  I  find  him  ?  "— "  Why,  in  snch  a  place.** 
Away  he  goes,  and,  having  found  him  out — 
"  Sir.  be  so  good  as  to  resolve  a  doubt," 
Then,  to  his  lart  informant,  he  referred. 
And  begged  to  know  if  tme  what  he  had  heard. 
•*  Did  yon.  sir,  throw  up  a  block  crow  ?  "•     "  Not  1 1  ** 
"  Bless  nic  I  how  people  propagate  a  lie ! 
Black  crows  hare  been  thrown  np.  three,  two,  and  one. 
And  here  I  find  at  last  all  comes  to  none  ! 
Did  yon  say  nothing  of  a  crow  at  all  ?  " 
"  Crow — crow— perhaps  I  might,  now  I  recall 
The  matter  over.''     *'  And  pray,  sir,  what  was't?** 
*'  Why.  I  was  horrid  sick,  and,  at  the  last, 
I  did  throw  up,  anil  t<»ld  my  neighbor  so. 
Something  that  was  as  black,  "bir,  as  a  crow.** 


Chap.  III.]  MEAN  SELF-INGRATIATION.  37 

Calumny  May  Start  from  Raillery.— >* Calumny 

many  times  originates  in  raillery  and  extravaganza.  Loose- 
tongued  people  say  the  worst  things  of  the  best  men  for 
the  sake  of  raising  a  laugh  at  the  incongruity  ;  else  they 
invent  strange  stories  concerning  some  distinguished  per- 
son, and  tell  them  to  the  unsuspecting  in  order  to  amuse 
themselves  with  their  credulity.  These  experiments  often 
turn  out  more  serious  results  than  were  at  first  anticipated. 
These  sayings  are  believed  and  spread  till  they  are  gener- 
ally received  as  true,  or  till  the  gay  babblers  who  started 
them  are  convicted  of  libel.  '  As  a  madman  who  casteth 
firebrands,  arrows,  and  death,  so  is  the  man  that  deceiveth 
his  neighbor,  and  saith,  *  Am  not  I  in  sport  ? ' " 

Another  type  of  woman  frequently  encountered  in  society  is 
the  plausible,  specious,  but  selfishly  insincere  one,  designated  by 
those  who  know  her  best  as  a  thorough  humbug.  Although  not 
intending  to  be  directly  uutrathful,  she  is  very  far  from  being  ac- 
curate, and  it  is  even  doubtful  if  she  endeavors  to  bend  her  steps 
in  that  direction.  Strangers  consider  her  delightful  until  they 
have  known  her  long  enough  to  discover  that  she  is  dangerous, 
and  tliat  the  pleasant  things  she  says  to  them  she  has  an  un- 
pleasant habit  of  unsaying  of  them. 

Thus,  wishing  to  ingratiate  herself,  she  would  say  : 

"  How  rery  handaome  3-onr  danRhter  looks  toniffht ;  how  bpautifuDy  she  in  d  rowed  ;  ** 
•nd  more  in  th«  hutm  strain  ;  while  of  the  «me  young  lady  8hc  would  remark,  "  I  cannot 
any  that  I  admire  Mim  D.,  and  how  over-dreMied  she  is ;  with  her  mother'n  Hmall  income, 
it  in  abaard  the  money  npeot  on  that  girl's  dreaa ;  she  actually  wore  velvet  the  other  night 
much  too  heavy  for  her,**  and  eo  on  ;  or  abe  would  perhapa  nay  to  aome  other  member  of 
the  family : 

*'  I  hear  yon  are  not  goinc  to  atey  with  your  brother  and  hia  wife  in  Scotland  thia 
autumn ;  I  thoogbt  yon  want  evary  year :  '*  to  which  her  friend,  not  having  been  invited, 
would  reply  briefly,  **  We  oaoally  do  eUy  with  them  in  Septomber,  but  they  hava  not 
aaked  ua  thU  year.** 

"  I  aboold  think  yoo  found  it  rather  dull  there,**  would  be  the  aympathelio  rejoindar. 
"  Anjoob  ao  bright  and  clever  aa  you  are  muat  feel  the  want  of  congenial  oompantoaahip ; 
aome  people,  I  know,  consider  your  aiater-ln-law  rather  heavy  to  get  along  with.** 

"  She  Im  very  qniei  and  reanrad,  e^MwiaUy  with  people  whom  aha  doea  not  know  rtrj 
well."  mljfht  be  the  reply. 

"  80  I  have  heard  ;  but  then  your  brother  is  so  very  genial  and  agreeable  that  if  aba 


38  GOSSIP.  [Pabt  II 


toiMftaTer]rgoo4b<MtHiHliiMtormiiofaooiMeqaeiiee,altlioagh  I  shoald  have  thought 
yov  Wnf  with  UMm  wooM  hmrm  boa  of  the  grMlMt  advantage  to  her.  My  hiwbana 
thinks  yoa  make  aoch  a  pcrfaot  boitni  thai  I  ooofaai  I  leal  quite  j«aloiM  inmiMinra" 

Whathw  the  huaband  hMn  or  has  not  axpraaMd  himaelf  to  this  extant  Is  of  little  mo- 
Bcnt  10  his  inacituulve  partner,  who  marriy  makas  use  of  him  as  an  aaxiliair  to 
sttanftiien  her  poeitkin.  Tb«  hnmhnaUng  prooaw  osnaUjr  has  mmm  end  in  view,  and  a 
iMfthmwl  Tidt  at  th«  boaapoT  the  prrfect  hoi«ete  Is,  perbaiM,  on  thU  occailon,  the  one 
aioMdat;  andaalnnwas  rawly  faOsofpwidnctBtacsrtalnpleasincogeotttponawoman 
when  offervd  bya  man,  even  thongh  offered  indirectly,  the  lady  reodvlng  It  would  be  very 
Ukriy  to  nay  with  a  pkMMMl  little  laogh : 

'*  It  is  very  good  of  him  to  My  so,  but  I  am  afraid  be  has  not  had  mndi  opportunity 
of  fanning  a  favorable  judgment  of  my  powers  In  that  capacity :  but  perhaps  when  we 
are  settled  at  home  again  I  may  be  able  to  persuade  you  both  to  pay  us  a  little  risit.'** 

**  I  am  ear*  we  shall  nit  require  any  pei  suasion  to  do  a  thing  that  wookl  give  us  so 
muoh  pleaauvi,**  the  lady  would  retort ;  "  it  Is  too  kind  of  yon  to  think  of  xu.  My  husband 
was  only  si^ying  tb»  othrr  day  bow  mnoii  he  shook!  like  to  see  the  improvements  you  have 
made  at  your  place;  we  say  yoit,  because,  as  he  says,  you  have  sudi  admirable  taste.** 

Aftera  pleamnt  rialt  has  been  paM,  and  all  possible  hospitaUty  and  kindne*  have 
been  reoetved  at  tiM  hands  of  her  friend,  this  type  of  her  otass,  true  to  her  nstnre,  cannot 
rssiKt  when  the  oeeasinn  pwwnts  itaslf  playing  the  sama  game  for  periiaps  a  rimilar  pur- 
pose witii  the  brfora^neatioaed  ctitar'lii>faiw  of  her  friend,  and  enacting  some  madh  part, 
and  carrying  on  some  such  dlalogoa  aa  the  f oUowlnfc : 

"  What  s  pity  it  fai  your  idstei^ln-law  doeo  not  oare  to  stay  with  you  at  your  beaatifal 
place  in  Scotland.    I  ean*t  understand  how  she  can  poislbly  And  it  daU  there.** 

*'  Did  she  tdl  yon  she  found  ItdoD  with  nsf  **  would  be  the  abrupt  query.  "  She  always 
appeared  to  be  very  pleased  to  come  to  us.** 

"  I  understood  her  to  aay  that  nothing  could  be  fo  dnil  as  it  wan.  She  gave  me  the 
Impressioo  that  die  thought  you  did  not  pay  her  snfBcient  attention  when  she  was  np  in 
Scotland  with  yon ;  In  fact»  that  you  did  nothing  to  amuse  her,  bnt  I  dare  Ray  she  did 
not  mean  it.  She  Is  a  little  jealous  prob^dy  of  your  inflnenoe  over  her  brother ;  she  cannot 
hdp  seeing  how  he  naturally  defers  to  you  in  everything.** 

*•  I  cannot  fonrive  her  calling  it  dull  with  ns."  remarks  the  aggrieved  sisterin  law ; 
**  she  has  been  w>  mnch  with  us  since  her  marriage ;  but  I  certainly  shall  not  ask  her  so 
often  in  future,  if  that  is  her  opinion.**  • 

**  Oh,  I  should  not  take  any  notice  of  tiiis  sort  of  thing  if  I  wem  yon.  People  of  her 
volatile  temperament  say  a  great  d«)al  more  than  they  mean  ;  in  fact,  many  things  which 
it  Is  80  mnch  wiser  not  to  mnember ;  "  and  by  this  nrabignoas  way  of  speaking  she  con- 
voys the  idea  that  far  more  renuiins  to  be  told,  bnt  which  is  discreetly  withheld. 

The  lever  on  which  this  distorting  principle  is  worked  by  theee  ladies  is  not  thedown 
right  intention  of  maligning  and  misrepreeenting  s  friend  or  acquaintance,  but  is  th 
selfish  desire  of  talking  themselves  into  favor  at  another's  expense  ;  and  displacing  th,i» 
other,  and  usurping  the  vacant  place  by  mmnlating  an  interest  and  strong  liking,  is  the 
easiest  way  of  accomplishing  this  object.  Thus  they  conrinne  to  hnmbng  their  friends  and 
acqaaintances,  and  establish  many  fends  in  many  families,  and  create  no  little  mischief 
one  way  and  another,  but  are  tolerated  in  a  certain  degree  by  some  people  who  think  it 
rather  pleasant  than  not  to  be  hnmbnggrd  when  thoronerhly  on  their  pnard  acainst  the 
n.lministrator  of  the  dose  ;  and  by  others,  because,  rather  afraid  of  what  may  be  said  of 
themselves,  thoy  think  it  wisest  to  stand  well  with  the  hnmbng ;  while  others,  again, 
have  yet  to  learn  of  what  these  wily  ones  are  capable  and  the  worth  of  their  agreeable 
speeches.— Soc«/y  Small  Talk. 


(  iiAi     III.]  THE  POET  ROGERS.  od 

Acerbity  of  Tongue  a  Temptation. — Ill-nat- 
ured remarks  are  the  sorest  teiuptatioii  young  conveners 
encounter.  Human  nature  is  so  weak,  so  common  is  the 
disposition  to  feel  better  content  with  ourselves  if  others 
are  brought  down  to  our  level,  that  tiie  satirist  and  the 
scandal-monger  are  usually  listened  to.  This  attention 
they  receive  as  complacently  as  though  it  were  a  compli- 
ment paid  to  their  wit.  But  the  real  fact  is  that  tlie  lis- 
teners, though  they  are  mean  enough  to  like  to  have  the 
bitter  things  said,  are  too  timid  to  say  them ;  so,  by  their 
attention,  they  reward  the  back-biter  as  the  monkey  might 
reward  the  cat  which  burned  its  paws  in  pulling  from  the 
fire  the  chestnuts  the  monkey  wanted  but  was  afraid  to 
reach  for. 

"When  I  was  young,"  said  Rogers,  **I  found  that  no  one 
would  listen  to  my  civil  speeches  because  I  haul  a  very  small  voice  ; 
so  I  began  to  say  ill-natured  things,  and  then  people  began  to  at- 
tend me." 

•'  Is  that  the  contents  you  are  looking  at  ?  "  asked  an  anxious 
author,  who  saw  Rogers's  eye  fixed  on  the  early  pages  of  a  work 
just  presented  to  him.  *'  No,"  replied  the  i>oct,  jwinting  to  the 
list  of  subscribers,  **  at  the  <itsconteuts." 

People  used  to  manceuvre  to  bo  the  last  to  leave  the  room  where 
he  wa.s,  a.ssnrecl  that  unkind  things  would  be  said  after  each  de- 
partme  by  those  who  remained.  Success  like  this  may  better  be 
dispensed  with.  People  may  listen,  but  they  dread  and  despise  ; 
they  may  cringe,  but  they  long  for  reprisal.  We  can  almast  for- 
give the  cruel  retort  of  Richard  Sharp,  who,  when  Rogers  in  his 
old  age,  hovering  upon  the  brink  of  the  grave,  repeated  the 
couplet : 

*'  The  Robin  with  it«  furtive  gUnoe 
Cone*  Mid  looki  »t  me  aalBUioe,** 

struck  in,  "  If  it  Iiad  been  a  carrion-crow  it  would  have  looked  yon 
full  in  the  face." 


^0  GOSSIP.  [Part  II. 

It  was  the  opinion  of  Lnther  that  Satan  himself  cannot  bear 
contempt;  it  is  certain  that  man  cannot  No  creature  is  more 
dreaded  in  society  than  a  sneering,  satirizing,  disdainful  one.  If 
we  cannot  avoid  feeling  an  inward  contempt  for  another,  we  can 
at  any  rate  avoid  showing  him  any  mark  of  it.  The  bet|»yal  of 
such  a  feeling  will  offend  without  reforming  him.  We  should 
never  heed  what  we  cannot  help. — Hbbtst. 

I  remember  that  in  my  childhood  I  was  very  religious.  I  rose 
in  the  night,  was  abstinent,  and  was  punctual  in  the  performance 
of  my  devotions.  One  night  I  was  sitting  in  the  presence  of  my 
father  with  the  holy  Koran  in  my  embrace,  not  having  closed  my 
eyes  during  the  whole  time,  though  numbers  around  me  were 
asleep.  I  said  to  my  father,  *'  Not  one  of  these  lifteth  up  his  head 
to  perform  his  genuflexions  ;  but  they  are  all  so  fast  asleep  you 
would  say  they  are  dead.'*  He  replied,  **  Life  of  your  father,  it 
were  better  that  you  also  were  asleep  than  to  be  searching  out  the 
faults  of  your  neighbors.** — Saadl 

Family  Bickerings. — Esi)ecially  deplorable  is  the 
habit  of  speaking  ill  uf  one's  family  or  intimate  friends. 
The  world  is  severe  in  its  judgment  of  those  wlio  expose 
the  faults  of  kindred,  no  matter  what  the  provocation  may 
be.  Iludeness  can  go  no  f urtlier  than  to  indulge  in  family 
bickering  in  the  presence  of  strangers. 

Familiarity  in  Public. — Another  criticism  which  I  cannot  help 
making  is  on  the  practice  of  using  in  general  society  unmeaning 
and  ridiculous  familiar  nicknames  or  terms  of  endearment.  A 
more  offensive  habit  cannot  be  imagined,  or  one  which  more  effec- 
tnallv  tends  to  the  disiiaragement  of  those  who  indulge  in  it. 

I  find  myself,  after  the  departure  of  the  ladies  from  the  dining- 
room,  sitting  next  to  an  agreeable  and  sensible  man.  I  get  into 
interesting  conversation  viith.  him.  We  seek  a  comer  in  the  draw- 
ing-room afterwards  and  continue  it.  His  age  and  experience 
make  him  a  treasure-house  of  information  and  practical  wisdom. 
Yet,  as  talk  trieth  the  man,  infinuities  begin  to  appear  here  and 
there,  and  my  respect  for  my  friend  suffers  diminution.  By-and-by  a 
decided  weak  point  is  detected ;  and  fui-ther  on,  it  becomes  evident 


Chap.  III.]  FAMILIARITY  IN  PUBLIC.  41 

that  iu  tho  biiildinj?  up  of  bis  uiontul  aud  iHjreonal  fabric  there  is 
somewhere  a  loose  stratum  which  will  not  hokl  under  pressure. 

At  last  the  servants  begin  to  make  those  visits  to  the  room,  usu- 
ally occurring  about  ten  o'clock,  which  begin  with  gazing  about, 
and  result  in  a  inish  at  some  recognized  object,  with  a  summons 
from  the  coachman  below.  I  am  just  doubting  whether  I  have 
not  come  to  the  end  of  my  companion,  when  a  shrill  voice  from 
tho  other  side  of  the  room  calls  out,  "  Sammy,  love  I  " 

All  is  out.  Ho  has  a  wife  who  does  not  know  better,  and  he 
has  never  taught  her  better.  This  is  the  secret.  The  skeleton  iu 
their  cupboard  is  a  child's  rattle.  A  man  may  as  well  suck  his 
thumb  all  his  life  as  talk,  or  allow  to  bo  talked  to  1dm,  such  driv- 
elling nonsense.  It  must  deti-at^t  from  manliness  of  character,  and 
from  proper  self-respect,  and  is  totally  inconsistent  with  tho  gootl 
taste,  and  consideration,  even  in  the  least  things,  for  the  feelings 
of  others,  which  are  always  present  in  persons  of  good-breeding 
and  Christian  courtesy. 

Never  let  the  world  look  tlirough  these  chinks  into  the  boudoir. 
Even  thence,  if  there  be  real  good  sense  present,  all  that  is  child- 
ish and  ridiculous  will  bo  banished ;  but  at  all  events,  keep  it 
from  the  world.  It  is  easy  for  husband  and  wife,  it  is  easy  for 
brothers  and  sisters,  to  talk  to  one  another  as  none  else  could  talk, 
without  a  word  of  this  minced-up  English.  One  soft  tone  from 
lips  on  which  dwells  wisdom  is  worth  all  the  '  *  loveys "  and 
••  deai-eys"  which  become  the  unmeaning  expletives  of  the  vulgar. 
—Dean  Alford. 

Familiarity  with  Others. — The  clerk  of  a  hotel 
sued  his  employers  for  breach  of  contract,  they  having  dis- 
charired  him  before  the  period  covered  by  the  contract  had 
expired.  Tlie  evidence  on  the  part  of  the  defence  showed 
that  the  clerk  had  indulged  in  familiarity  toward  guests 
who  did  nothing  to  invite  it,  and  had  thereby  injured  the 
I)usine8s  of  his  employers.  It  was  admitted  that  the  clerk 
was  in  the  habit  of  addressing  guests  and  others  eitlier  by 
their  (Christian  names  or  by  their  suniMmcs  only.  The 
N[a88aclnisett6  Supreme  Court  said: 


^3  GOSSIP.  [Part  II. 

To  address  a  penon  by  his  Christian  naino,  unless  the  iiarties 
have  been  intiinately  oonueoted,  social^  and  otherwise,  is  uncalled- 
for  familiarity,  and,  therefore,  insulting  to  the  person  so  addressed. 
To  address  a  jiarty  by  his  surname  only,  shows  a  want  of  respect, 
and  would  imply  that  the  party  so  addressed  was  beneath  the  pai- 
ty  addressing ;  therefore  it  is  discourteous,  and  would  be  consid- 
ered insulting.  To  speak  of  employers  by  their  surnames  only, 
shows  a  great  want  of  respect  on  the  part  of  the  employe  toward 
the  employer. 

The  Court  further  held : 

While  it  may  be  customary  for  a  person  to  address  his  junior 
clerks  or  under-servants  by  their  Christian  or  surnames,  to  address 
others  so  shows  a  want  of  respect,  and  the  party  so  addressed  would 
naturally  evade  contact  in  the  future  with  any  one  who  had  pre- 
viously so  addressed  him. 

Politeness,  added  the  Court,  costs  nothing;  but  the 
want  of  it  cost  the  plaintiff  the  loss  of  his  situation.  The 
complaint  was  dismissed  with  costs. 

Influence  of  Language  on  Character. — Lan- 
guage exerts  a  reflex  influence  ujwn  character.  In  discard- 
ing abusive  expressions,  one  Icai-ns  to  cure  the  habit  of 
thinking  evil  of  others,  and  of  gloating  over  their  faults — 
for  the  "  hypocrites "  who  play  such  a  part  in  the  old- 
fashioned  dramas — the  men  who  use  language  to  conceal 
their  thoughts — are  less  common  than  one  might  suppose, 
even  in  purpose,  and  rare  indeed  in  accomplishment. 

All  detractors  do  not  begin  with  hating  the  person  they  lessen 
in  the  estimation  of  others.  They  \s-ish,  it  may  be,  to  warn  their 
friends  from  leading  the  same  life  by  ix>inting  out  its  dangers,  or 
to  clear  themselves  of  a  charge  by  showing  where  the  blame  ought 
to  lie  ;  but  what  begins  with  gold  often  ends  with  clay.  It  is  an 
inclination  of  the  human  heart  to  hate  those  whom  it  has  injured. 
.  .  .  Solomon  says,  "A  lyinc^  tongue  liateth  those  that  are  af- 
flicted by  it."'      Even  when  any  one  reports  what  is  true,  if  he 


Chap.  Iir.l       SHARP  TONGUES  MAKE  HARD  HEARTS.  43 

knows  he  has  douo  it  impnidently  as  to  maimer,  or  uncharitably 
as  to  motive,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  the  tmnecessary  injuiy  of  another, 
he  can  hardly  help  regai'ding  the  injured  i)erson  with  unhappy 
feelings.  Self-accusation  follows  eveiy  recollection  of  the  pei*son 
concerning  whom  he  has  so  sjxjken,  and  he  no  longer  finds  pleas- 
ure in  the  company  of  one  the  very  sight  of  whom  brings  to  mind 
the  wrong  he  has  done  him. — Hervet. 

Dean  Swift  says :  "  They  have  never  foi^ven  us  the  injury  they 
did  us." 

Acerbity  Becomes  Morbid. — The  ability  to  say 
severe  and  cutting  things,  if  cultivated  into  habit,  becomes 
a  disease,  often  leading  even  great  men  to  strive  rather 
that  their  remarks  be  caustic  tlian  tliat  they  be  true. 

It  most  liave  been  from  what  Mr.  De  Quiucey  happily  calls  the 
overmastering  spirit  of  stating  everything  "in  a  spirit  of  amplifi- 
cation, with  a  view  to  the  wonder  only  of  the  reader,"  that  he  was 
induced  to  8j)eak  as  he  has  spoken  of  numerous  literary  celebri- 
ties. "Hazlitt  had  read  nothing;"  "Rousseau,  like  William 
Wordsworth,  had  read  at  the  outside  twelve  volumes  octavo  in  his 
whole  lifetime;"  and  Porson's  "knowledge  of  English  was  so 
limited  that  his  entire  cargo  might  have  been  embarked  on  board 
a  walnut -shell  on  the  bosom  of  a  slop-basin,  and  insured  for  three 
half-i)ence."  Edmund  Burke  "  was  the  most  double-minded  i>er- 
8on  in  the  world,"  and  Lindley  Murray,  the  American,  is  called  *'  an 
imbecile  stranger."  Dr.  Johnson  "  hati  studied  nothing,"  and 
Boileau  and  Addison  were  "neither  of  them  accomplished  in 
scholarship." — Fftzedward  Hall. 

Mark  the  coai-seness  into  which  Sydney  Smith  could  degener- 
ate :  "  He  is  of  the  utilitarian  school.  That  man  is  so  hard  you 
might  drive  a  broad-wheeled  wagon  over  him  and  it  would  make 
no  impression  ;  if  you  were  to  bore  holes  in  him  with  a  gimlet  I 
am  convinced  saw-dust  would  come  out  of  him.  That  school  treat 
mankind  as  if  they  were  mere  machines  ;  the  feelings  or  affections 
never  enter  into  their  calculations.  If  everything  is  to  be  sacri- 
ficed to  utility,  why  do  you  bury  your  grandmother  at  all  ?  "VNTiy 
don't  yon  cut  her  into  small  pieces  at  once,  and  make  portable  soup 
of  her?** 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


INTBREST  IN  OUR  NEIGHBORS,  p,  82. 
THE  SCANDAL-MONGER,  p  38. 

Truth  ofUn  a  lib«l,  p.  8;i. 

Exposure  sometimes  necessarj,  p.  34. 

Libel  seldom  truth,  p.  S.*). 
Exaggeration,  p.  85. 

'Hie  three  black  crows,  p.  36. 

Calumnj  from  railU  ry.  p.  37. 
Meaii  wlf  "U   p.  U7. 

ACERBITY  OF   1  A  TKMITATION,  p.  89. 

FAMILY  BirK-r.l;i\..-,  j,   .40 

Endeariii::  ;•  '.u,-  in  ]-u-  ','■.'■.  \>  I'l. 
OFF^V^"  '  lA.MIi  lAKirV,  p  41. 
IM  )  1    I  A  N  < ;  I  A(iE  .OX  CHARACTER,  p.  42. 

:r..„.^.  .v,;ijiiu.-  iiiik.    li:ir<!  li<»art<,  p.  43. 

M  (.i;i:sTlVK   C^UESTION& 

Read  pages  210-221.     What  differences  occur  to  you  between  talking 
and  printing  gossip  ?  lietween  listening  to  it  and  reading  it  f 

*'  It  takes,"  says  Thoreau,  '*  two  to  8]>eak  trutli— one  to  speak  and 
another  to  hear."     Do  you  agree  with  him,  and  why  f 

What  do  you  think  of  the  following  extract  from  J'hf  Century? 

**Of  all  the  sources  of  bad  manners,  we  know  of  none  so  prolific  and 
pernicious  as  the  license  of  familiarity.  There  is  no  one  among  our 
readers,  we  presume,  who  has  not  known  a  village  or  a  neighlK>rhoo<l  ju 
which  all  the  peoph*  called  one  another  by  their  first  or  Christian  names 
The  'Jim,'  or  'Charley,'  or  '  Mollie,'  or  'Fannie,'  of  the  yonng  days 
of  school-life,  remain  the  same  until  they  tottir  into  the  grave  liom 
old  age.  Now,  there  may  be  a  certain  amount  o*  trood-.'Vllowship  and 
homely  friendliness  in  this  kind  of  familiar  addn  fs.  but  there  is  not  a 
particle  of  politeness  in  it.  It  is  all  very  well,  witliiu  a  laniily  or  a  circle 
of  relatives,  but  when  it  is  carried  outside,  it  is  intoltrable.  Every 
gentleman  has  a  right  to  the  title,  at  least  of  '^  ister,'  and  every  lady 
to  that  of  'Miss '  or  '  Mistress,'  even  when  the  (  hristian  name  is  used. 
We  have  known  remarkable  men,  living  for  years  under  tin*  blight  of 
their  familiarly-used  first  names, — men  whose  fortunes  would  have  been 
made,  or  greatly  mended,  by  removing  to  some  jtlace  where  tliey  could 
have  been  addressed  with  the  courtesy  due  to  their  worth,  and  been  rid 
forever  of  the  cheapening  process  of  familiarity.  Tow  can  a  man  li.t 
his  head  under  the  degradation  of  being  called  '.^am'  by  every  man, 
young  and  old.  whom  he  may  meet  in  the  street  ?  ITow  can  a  strong 
character  be  carried  when  the  man  who  bears  it  must  bow  decently  to 
the  name  of  'Billy.'" 


CHAPTER  IV. 

COMMENDATION  AND  REPROOF. 

If  1  had  another  life  to  live,  ami  two  thousand  lettern  to  write  again,  with  God's  help 
I  woQld  not  hurt  the  feelings  of  the  humblest  of  all  God's  creatures  honestly  trying  to  do 
good.  He  might  be  as  big  as  Daniel  Lambert,  and  I  would  not  call  him  fat  and  unctuous: 
h«  might  be  as  lean  as  Calvin  Edson,  and  I  would  not  call  him  a  bag  of  bones.  I  would 
ooant  each  day  lost  on  which  I  had  not  made  some  hearts  gladder  than  they  were  in  the 
morning,  on  which  I  had  not  plucked  up  some  thorns  or  planted  some  flowers  on  the 
path  of  human  life.— Dr.  Pbimk. 

Importance  of  Appreciation. — Literature  is  so 
full  of  warnings  against  the  flatterer  that  one  might  sup- 
pose it  the  serious  difficulty  of  life  to  keep  free  from  van- 
ity amid  the  showers  of  compliments  sure  to  be  encoun- 
tered. But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  greater  danger 
is  not  the  opposite — discouragement  through  failure  to  re- 
ceive evidence  of  just  appreciation.  Formal,  meaningless, 
or  fulsome  compliments  will  always  be  paid  in  number 
proportioned  to  one's  ability  to  be  of  use  to  those  who  pay 
thenu  But  discriminating  approval  from  an  authoritative 
source,  "  praise  from  Sir  Hubert  Stanley,"  is  bestowed 
less  often  than  it  is  needed. 

Among  the  minor  duties  of  life  I  hardly  know  any  more  impor- 
tant than  that  of  not  praising  where  praise  is  not  due.  Reputation 
is  one  of  the  prizes  for  which  men  contend  ;  it  is,  as  Mr.  Burke 
calls  it,  "  the  cheap  defence  and  ornament  of  nations  and  the  nurse 
of  manly  exertions  ;  '*  it  produces  more  lahor  and  more  talent  than 
twice  the  wealth  of  a  country  could  ever  rear  up.  It  is  the  coin 
of  genius,  and  it  is  the  imperious  duty  of  every  man  to  bestow  it 
with  the  most  scrupulous  justice  and  the  wisest  economy. — Stdnbt 
Smtth. 


4G  COMMENDATION.  (Part  II. 

Nothing  can  b©  truer  than  tliis,  jet  is  it  not  equally  true  that 
among  the  minor  duties  of  life  is  that  of  praising  where  praising  is 
due  ?  Is  it  not  as  important  that  we  should  admire  what  is  admir- 
able as  that  we  should  despise  what  is  worthless  ? 

The  world  is  full  of  men,  women,  and  childi'en  who  are  living 
unhappily  and  rusting  in  comparative  inactivity,  or  doing  but  a 
tithe  of  the  good  they  might  do,  for  want  of  a  little  judicious 
praise.  ...  To  shy,  sensitive  natures,  especially,  praise  is  a 
vital  necessity.  They  need  to  be  encouraged  and  caressed  as  truly 
as  others  need  to  be  lashed  and  spurred  ;  and  sincere  commenda- 
tion is  to  them  at  once  a  tonic  and  a  cordial,  cheering  them  with 
a  flush  of  pleasant  feeling  and  bracing  them  for  further  good  work. 
.  .  .  We  are  confident  that  a  large  part  of  that  conduct  which 
so  annoys  us  in  our  fellow-sinners,  and  which  we  resist  in  society 
and  laugh  out  of  it,  as  vanity  and  egotism,  is  the  very  opposite, 
being  only  an  uneasy  or  frantic  attempt  to  win  from  others  an  as- 
surance of  what  one  himself  sorely  doubts.     .     .     . 

Praise  and  overpraise  are  two  different  things ;  and  while  the 
latter,  when  it  does  not  disgust,  puffis  up  and  corrupts  its  subjects, 
the  former,  when  justly  bestowed,  incites  to  new  and  earnest  effort. 
It  is  not  honest  commendation  that  inflates,  but  that  which  we  be- 
stow insincerely  when  we  are  angling  for  compliments  and  expect 
to  be  repaid  with  compound  interest. — Mathews. 

Praise  Should  be  Judicious. —It  lias  been 
shrewdly  observed  that  we  like  best  to  be  praised  for 
that  in  us  which  is  commonly  unacknowledged.  To  com- 
pliment a  beautiful  woman  upon  her  features,  an  author 
upon  his  books,  a  statesman  upon  his  wisdom,  may  afford 
some  gratification  if  done  with  tact  and  witli  sincerity ; 
but  to  detect  and  commend  an  excellence  one  has  only 
dared  to  hope  one  possessed  is  to  bestow  a  real  delight. 

Beautiful  women  are  readily  convinced  by  a  glance  or  by  de- 
meanor that  their  charms  are  appreciated.  All  of  them,  however, 
who  have  any  claims  to  culture  will,  when  the  first  tribute  is  paid, 
be  best  pleased  with  appreciative  compliments  paid  to  their  intelli- 
gence, accomplishments,  "spirit,"  kindness  of  heart,  tastes,  hab- 


Chap    IV       HONEST  PRAISE  USUALLY  POSSIBLE.  47 

its,  hoi>es,  and  asswiations.  A  very  beautiful  woman  who  believes 
that  she  has  excited  a  deep  admiratiou  for  some  quality  other  than 
her  beauty — esijecially  if  it  be  one  for  which  the  world  gives  her 
little  credit — is  always  gratilded. — Art  of  Conversation. 

It  should  be  remembered  that  no  woman  ever  fully  foregoes  her 
claims  to  personal  attractiveness. 

♦'  How  ehaiTuing  Miss  Pulchra  is  looking  to-night,'*  remarks  Mr. 
Juvenis  to  his  hostess. 

"Yes,"  replies  the  lady  with  a  sigh,  "  and  none  can  admire  her 
more  than  those  who  like  myself  have  no  pretensions  to  beauty." 

'*  All !  "  replies  Mr.  Juvenis,  sympathizingly,  "  but  one  so  men- 
tally gifted  as  yourself  can  well  afford  to  dispense  with  charms  of 
)>er8on." 

And  then  he  wonders  why  he  gets  no  more  invitations  to  that 
house. 

After  all  said  on  the  subject,  it  is  certain  that  to  an  intelligent 
and  cultivated  mind  there  are  few  women  of  intelligence  entirely 
devoid  of  i>ersonal  attractions ;  and  almost  every  human  being, 
though  he  or  she  may  have  even  relinquished  all  claim  to  be  beau- 
tiful, still  clings  to  the  veiy  last  to  a  faith  in  a  certain  "  expres- 
sion," which,  if  proi)erly  appreciated,  must  raise  the  whole  per- 
sonality to  admiration.  And  instances  are  not  imfrequent  in  which 
women  who  were  either  beautiful,  piquant,  pleasing,  or  "sympa- 
thetic," have  heard  so  little  of  the  language  of  admiration  that  the 
first  report  of  a  really  gonial  compliment  i)aid  them  thrilled  through 
the  heart  like  fire.  This  is  sometimes  the  case  w  hen  a  sister  has 
attracted  all  the  admiration. 

There  are  again  instances  in  which  a  lady  may  have  a  good 
enough  opinion  of  hci-self  and  yet  be  quite  inca])able  of  ap])reciat- 
ing  the  i)eculiar  or  real  reason  why  she  is  admired.  I  could  cite 
the  instance  of  a  lover  of  art  who  had  a  special  admiration  for  the 
singular  face  of  a  statue  in  the  Louvre,  and  who  had  the  stituige 
fortune  to  find  it  almost  identically  realized  in  the  features  of  a 
young  girl  who  was  by  no  means  accustomed  to  praise  of  her 
Ijeauty.  Very  often  {)eculiar  associations  like  this  will  render  cer- 
tain countenances  charming  to  us,  which  is  the  secret,  by  the  way, 
why  ignorant  boys  and  girls,  who  are  without  such  associations, 
are  extremely  critical  and  couventional  in  the  judgment  of  per- 


*^  COMMENDATION.  (Part  TI. 

sonal  attractionn,  while  men  of  wide  experience  and  knowledge  are 
far  more  generally  appreciative  and  more  easily  pleased.  In  short, 
where  we  wish  to  oomplimenti  the  opportunity  to  do  so  with  sin- 
cerity and  credit  to  ounelves  is  seldom  wanting  where  our  tastes 
are  cultivated. — Ari  <^  Ckmvenation, 

It  is  said  that  WiUiam  Collen  Bryant  was  very  loath  to  condemn 
the  flrst  book  of  a  young  author.  Entering  the  editorial  room  one 
day  he  found  a  critic  gloating  over  the  flatness  of  a  volume  of 
poems. 

"  Surely  there  must  be  some  good  point  about  the  book,**  plead- 
ed Mr.  Bxyant. 

"  Not  one,**  protested  the  critic ;  *'  the  book  is  utterly  Htale,  flat, 
and  unprofitable." 

"At  any  rate,**  said  Mr.  Biyani,  handling  the  volume,  ''you 
might  say  that  the  binding  is  neat,  and  that  the  edges  are  evenly 
cut** 

Praise  Should  be  Definite. — To  a  commence- 
ment speaker,  as  lie  parsed  down  tlie  aisle,  one  friend 
said  :  ''  That  was  capital,  capital ;  you  have  made  us  all 
proud  of  jou."  At  the  close  of  the  exercises  another  said 
meditatively :  "  Tom,  your  oration  was  one  of  the  three 
best,  and  I  think  one  of  the  two  best." 

Which  comment  is  Tom  likely  to  remember  the  longer  ? 
To  speak  in  terms  of  general  commendation  often  implies 
no  more  than  good  will.  To  specify  and  limit  shows  at- 
tention and  discrimination. 

Those  who  intend  really  to  praise  another  should  not  speak  of 
him  in  the  language  of  hyperbole.  They  run  the  hazard  of  inflam- 
ing the  envy  or  the  jealousy  of  their  hearers,  who  are  tempted  to 
run  him  down  as  far  below  the  merited  mark  as  he  was  raised  above 
it.  It  is  more  judicious  to  set  some  bounds  to  our  admiration  and 
mention  some  fault  which  may  be  justly  imputed  to  him,  so  we 
shall  set  off  his  ^-i^tues  to  better  advantage,  by  way  of  shading  or 
of  contrast,  and  hold  out  to  others  no  temptation  to  attack  his  im- 
perfections. — Hervey. 


Cua:\   IV.]  HOW  TO  BESTOW  PRAISE  49 

Few  compliments  bear  more  Ktamp  of  the  genuine  than  the 
Latin  verses  that  Adilison  has  thus  translated : 

TO  A  CAPRICIOUS  FRIEND. 
In  all  thy  huuioiii,  whether  grave  or  mellow, 
Thou'rt  nuh  a  touchy,  testy,  pleasant  fellow, 
Hast  HO  much  mirth  and  wit  and  spleen  about  thee, 
There  is  no  livine  with  thee  nor  wirlinut  thte. 

Praise  Should  Come  from  Those  Qualified 
to  Bestow  It. — "  We  cannot  properly  praise  a  work 
in  art,  science,  or  literature,  unless  we  possess  a  tolerable 
knowledge  of  the  subject.  A  person  who  is  not  compe- 
tent to  judge  of  a  work  is  permitted  to  say  that  a  treatise,  or 
sermon,  or  painting,  or  statue,  pleases  him,  or  tell  how  it 
strikes  his  mind  ;  but  for  him  to  declare,  in  a  decisive 
tone,  liis  opinion  of  such  a  work  is  to  incur  the  con- 
tempt or  the  derision  of  adepts.  Men  of  sense  are  not 
proud  of  laudations  tliat  do  not  come  from  equals  or 
superiors." 

Do  not  go  oflf  into  raptures  at  the  first  sight  of  a  work  of  nature 
or  of  art  unless  you  mean  to  show  your  enthusiasm  rather  than 
your  taste.  You  had  l)etter  keep  silence  till  you  have  formed  some 
opinion.  While  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  was  at  Rome  studying  the 
works  of  Itapliuel  in  the  Vatican  he  obsen-ed  that  most  strangera 
who  came  to  soo  them  began  to  pmise  tliem  the  moment  their  eyes 
fell  uix>n  them,  whereas  he  was  rather  dita))pointed  in  them  at 
first,  and  did  not  begin  to  appreciate  them  till  he  had  made  them 
the  objects  of  i)rotracted  study.  Minds  of  sensitive  and  poetic 
mould  are  at  first  sight  awed  when  they  contemjjlate  natural  scen- 
ery of  great  Wauty,  grandeur,  or  sublimity  ;  while  ])ersons  of  less 
taste  are  talkative,  and  are  apt  to  give  the  objects  before  them  any- 
thing but  their  right  names. — Hebvky. 

A  young  lady  who  was  askeil  if  she  had  seen  Niagara  replied 
that  she  never  had  ;  but  lest  this  should  seen)  a  refle<*tion  ni>on 
the  cataract  she  hasten«<)  *>  "Id  that  she  lia<,l  heard  it  highly 
spoken  of. 


50  COMMENDATION.  [Part  II. 

Praise  Should  be  Given  Incidentally  and 
Unobtrusively.  -Tu  hurl  an  unexjHicted  cuinpliment 
often  pruiiures  eiubarrasfiinent.  rersons  uiifaiiiiliar  with 
tlie  world,  or  unskilled  in  ounversatiou,  often  express  and 
usually  feel  a  dislike  for  public  praise,  because  they  fiJhl 
themselves  unable  to  make  adroit  reply,  and  are  conse- 
quently more  vexed  to  be  embarrassed  than  gratified  to  be 
complimented. 

Few  have  the  frank  self-pofiseesion  of  the  young  woman  who 
said  in  reply  to  an  overwhelming  compliment  from  a  German  offi- 
cer, "  Really,  general,  we  American  girls  are  so  nnused  to  compli- 
ments that  we  never  have  anything  to  reply;  we  only  giggle.** 

A  compliment  is  most  grateful  when  it  comes  from  one 
who  seems  unconscious  that  he  is  bestowing  it.  An  ad- 
miring glance,  a  disposition  to  linger  near  one,  close  atten- 
tion when  one  is  speaking,  appeal  to  one^s  judgment  and 
deference  to  one's  decisions — all  these  silent  manifesta- 
tions of  respect  carry  weight  that  words  can  hardly 
add  to. 

The  slightest  turn  of  a  reply  may  convey  a  delicate  compliment, 
as  where  one,  instead  of  congratulating  a  friend  upon  securing  a 
position,  expresses  his  pleasure  that  the  iwsition  is  to  be  so  well 
filled. 

To  one  who  was  humbly  grateful  for  an  office  bestowed,  Louis 
XIV.  replied :  "  Had  I  known  a  more  deserving  person  I  would 
not  have  selected  him."  By  omitting  the  not  in  this  reply  Ma- 
thews (in  The  Great  Conversers,  page  25),  sjwils  the  story,  making 
the  monarch  ileclare  that  he  knows  no  jjerson  more  deser\-ing. 
As  spoken,  the  compliment  only  implied  this,  and  was  thus  grace- 
ful instead  of  fulsome.  Campbell  tells  the  same  story,  but  locates 
it  in  England. 

To  the  question,  "Are  you  engaged  fortius  dance?"  some  fool- 
ish maidens  reply  that  they  do  not  think  they  are  engaged,  at  the 
same  time  being  thoroughly  aware  that  they  are  not,  and  the  young 


Chap.  IV.]  WHERE  TO  BESTOW  PRAISE.  51 

men  arc  also  aware  that  the  maidens  are  finessing  and  avei'se  to 
making  the  direct  admission  that  they  are  in  want  of  partners.  A 
young  lady  with  tact  and  aplnijib  escapes  this  dilemma  V)y  replying 
with  great  readiness  to  the  question,  *  *  I  am  very  glad  to  say  that 
I  am  not,"  which  rejoinder  is  flattering  to  the  young  gentleman, 
giWng  him  the  impression  that  the  young  lady  could  have  been 
engaged  for  this  dance  had  she  so  pleased,  but  that  she  greatly 
preferred  waiting  for  the  chance  of  his  asking  her  to  dance.  Sho 
may  or  may  not  liave  been  actuated  by  this  hope,  but  if  by  some 
expression  of  pleasure  at  not  being  engaged  for  the  dance  which  is 
at  the  moment  asked  for  she  puts  her  partner  on  good  terms  with 
herself  and  himself  it  argues  well  for  her  success  in  the  ball-room. 
—Society  Small  Talk. 

Attention  to  the  Neglected. — Compliments  are 
especially  grateful  to  those  accustomed  to  be  somewhat 
neglected.  The  snob  is  never  more  offensive  than  when 
in  company  be  hastens  to  show  his  intimacy  with  the  lead- 
ing persons  })resent.  The  gentleman  is  never  more  to  be 
envied  than  when,  by  choosing  the  society  of  those  whom 
others  have  passed  by,  he  shows  that  he  has  no  apprehen- 
sion of  being,  like  a  silk  hat,  distinguishable  only  by  the 
l)er6on  to  wliom  he  is  attached. 

The  root  of  all  exclusiveness  lies  not  only  in  pride,  but  in  f«'a  •. 
It  is  a  sign  not  only  of  selfishness,  but  of  weakness  and  insecurily. 
—Tfte  Spectator. 

A  word  of  kindness  or  acknowledgment,  or  a  single  glance  cf 
approbation,  might  have  changed  Esmond's  oinnion  of  the  greali 
man  (the  Duke  of  Marlborough);  and  instead  of  a  satire,  which  his 
pen  cannot  help  writing,  who  knows  but  that  the  humble  historian 
might  have  taken  the  other  side  of  panegyric '?  We  have  V)ut  to 
cliange  the  point  of  view  and  the  greatest  action  looks  mean  ;  as 
wo  turn  a  pcr8i>o(>tive  glass  and  a  giant  api)ear8  a  pigmy.  You 
may  dos<'ri1)o,  but  who  can  tell  whether  your  sight  is  clear  of  not, 
or  your  means  of  information  accurate  ? 

Hail  the  great  man  wiid  but  a  word  of  kindness  to  the  small  one 
(as  he  would  hiuo  8tepi>ed  out  of  his  way  to  shake  hands  with  Loz- 


53^  COMMENDATION.  [Part  II 

anu  in  imgs  and  sores,  if  he  thought  Lazarus  could  have  been  ol 
any  senrioe  to  him),  no  doubt  Esmond  wouhl  have  fought  for  him 
with  pen  and  sword  to  the  utmost  of  liis  might ;  but  my  lord  lion 
did  not  want  mnst<?r  mou-se  at  this  moment,  and  so  Muscipulus 
went  out  an<l  nibbled  in  oj)i)o«ition.— Thackkbat. 

Praise  Should  be  Honest.— '' Flatten  is  the 
worst  sort  of  falseho<xl.  Other  lies  are  generally  detected, 
and  the  liar  exposed  and  punished  ;  but  Hattery  is  a  kind 
of  untruth  which  the  person  for  whom  it  was  intended 
does  not  desire  to  detect,  and  when  others  demonstrate  to 
him  its  falsity  he  is  slow  to  admit  it,  l)ecau8e  he  loves  to 
believe  it  true.  Other  falsehoods  may  expose  us  to  the 
loss  of  friends,  fame,  or  wealth  ;  but  this  nourishes  into  a 
monstrous  growth  the  original  pride  of  the  fallen  soul,  and 
involves  us  more  and  more  in  guilt  and  self-ignorance,  and 
consequently  in  ignorance  of  others." 

How  is  it  that  whenever  vou  are  thrown  into  the  company  of  an 
unusually  polite — an  over-poUte — person,  you  almost  immediately 
distrust  him  ?  There  comes  to  you,  acting  on  the  nervous  part  of 
you,  of  which  you  know  so  little,  a  seuse  of  doubt.  You  are  not 
averse  to  polite  bearing  and  manners — nay,  you  like  them  ;  you 
even  find  it  pleasant  to  receive  the  compUments  so  readily  and 
glibly  offered  to  you  ;  to  see  the  amiable  smile ;  to  watch  the  bow- 
ing head ;  and  there  is  something  in  the  sense  of  reverence  and 
respect  as  expressed  toward  yourself  very  flattering  to  your  amour 
propre. 

Yet  in  spite  of  it  all  you  are  not  sure  of  your  companion's 
honesty.  You  are  inclined  to  suspect  that  thei*e  is  something  cyn- 
ical behind  that  smile  ;  something  hollow  at  the  back  of  the  com- 
pliment ;  something  unreal  in  the  look  of  regard.  And  you  do  not 
know  in  the  least  why  you  have  this  feeling,  only  you  know  you 
have  it.  At  the  same  time  you  find  it  so  agreeable  to  be  made  so 
much'  of,  to  find  your  o]>inions  suddenly  of  value  in  the  eyes  of 
your  fellow,  that  you  lull  to  rest  the  spirit  of  doubt  which  rises 
within  you,  and  you  resolve  to  believe  your  new  friend  an  exceed- 
ingly i>olished  tuid  veiy  delightful  man.  —Home  Journal. 


Chap.  IV.]      METHODS  OF  BESTOWING  PRAISE. 


53 


But  there  is  no  resentment  more  bitter  than  one  feels 
on  being  convinced  that  what  one  had  received  as  genuine 
admiration  was  but  a  skilful  semblance,  fabricated  per- 
haps with  a  sneering  contempt  for  the  weakness  that  could 
be  cajoled  by  it. 

To  this  danger  the  indiscriminate  flatterer  is  constantly 
exposed.  Each  of  a  dozen  acquaintances  yields  ear  to  his 
adulation  and  trusts  him  as  an  appreciative  friend ;  but 
when  a  few  of  the  dozen  get  together  and  compare  notes, 
their  chagrin  at  being  deceived  is  transformed  into  resent- 
ment against  the  deceiver,  the  more  bitter  from  recogni- 
tion of  their  own  blindness. 

The  Safest  Praise  is  Quotation. — No  form  of 
commendation  is  more  unobjectionable  than  the  repeti- 
tion to  a  person  of  pleasant  remarks  others  have  made 
about  him. 

If  I  tell  John  that  James  says  he  shall  never  forget  John's  kind- 
ness to  him  in  sickness,  John  is  trebly  gratified  :  first,  that  James 
is  appreciative,  which  James  may  have  been  too  bashful  to  say  di- 
rectly ;  second,  that  James  has  spoken  well  of  him  to  others ;  and 
finally,  that  I  show  my  good  will  by  repeating  what  James  has 
said.  As  the  busy-body  creates  dissensions  by  tattling  unkind 
words,  so  he  that  will  take  {rnins  to  remember  and  to  repeat  the 
happy  things  his  friends  say  of  one  another  brings  those  about 
him  into  amity  and  go<Kl-feoling. 

Compliments  the  Happiest  Avenue  of  Wit. 

— No  other  department  of  conversation  affords  such  oppor- 
tunities for  tact  and  wit.  However  we  may  be  struck  by 
the  brilliancy  of  a  satirises  scathing  speech,  there  is  always 
behind  our  admiration  a  mingled  dislike  and  dread.  But 
he  who  puts  ])leasant  things  into  happy  words  is  indeed  to 
l)e  envied.  We  need  not  stint  our  admiiation  for  a  witty 
KjKjech  prompted  by  a  kind  heart. 


54  COMMENDATION.  [Part  IL 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Smith,"  cried  a  pretty  girl,  pointing  to  some  sweet 
peMy  •*  those  sweet  peas  will  never  come  to  i)erfection." 

"Permit  me,  then,"  said  the  witty  di>ine,  taking  her  hand,  "  to 
oondnct  perfection  to  the  sweet  peas." 

To  Ck)nd^',  afflicted  with  gont,  who  apologized  for  mounting  the 
stairs  slowly  on  his  return  as  victor  from  the  battle  of  Beuef, 
Louis  XIV.  replied,  ''Do  not  hurry,  cousin;  no  one  so  loaded 
with  laurels  could  come  more  quickly." 

At  this  court  even  a  protest  was  so  uttered  as  to  confirm  the 
obnoxious  judgment  while  it  diverted  it.  Annoyed  at  the  perti- 
nacity of  an  officer,  the  king  exclaimed  :  "  That  gentleman  is  the 
most  troublesome  officer  in  the  whole  army."  "Your  majesty's 
enemies  have  often  said  so,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Will  madam  permit  me  to  take  her  portrait  in  profile  ?  "  asks 
a  French  painter  of  a  patron  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  cross- 
eyed ;  "  there  is  a  shyness  about  one  of  her  ladyship*s  eyes  that  is 
as  difficult  in  art  as  it  is  fa.scinating  in  nature." 

Bantering  Compliments. — Among  those  quick 
of  wit  and  L^peecli  compliments  often  pass  into  banter,  a 
humorous  exaggeration  as  far  removed  from  flattery  as 
from  ill-nature. 

Thus  in  the  ball-room  a  gentleman  remarks  : 

"  I  envy  that  butterfly  perched  so  daintily  on  your  hair,  close  to 
that  shell-like  ear.  What  secrets  would  I  not  whisper  were  I  so 
near.     Happy  butterfly !  " 

The  rejoinder  might  be  made  in  the  same  spirit  of  fun : 

"  The  butterfly  is  not  so  happy  as  you  think  ;  I  shut  it  up  in  a 
velvet  case  when  I  go  home,  for  fear  of  losing  it.  Now,  one  could 
not  shut  you  up,  and  you  would  not  like  it  if  one  could." 

Or  the  retort  might  be,  ' '  Unlike  you,  my  butterfly  has  no  feeling, 
so  it  does  not  appreciate  its  happiness,  which  is,  I  believe,  charac- 
teristic of  butterflies ;  i^ou  ought  to  know  something  about  it." 

Here  the  answer  might  be  : 

"You  are  kind  enough  to  anticipate  my  future.  I  have  not 
found  my  wings  as  yet ;  I  am  still  in  a  chrssalis  state." 

A  lady  desirous  of  ha\-in*:!j  the  last  word  mij?ht  be  tempted  to  say  : 

"  Then  you  ai'e  safer  to  hold,  if  not  so  pretty  to  keep  ;  so  I  think 


Chap.  IV.]        HOW  TO  RECEIVE  COMPLIMENTS.  55 

on  the  whole  yon  had  better  retain  your  chrysalis  state  for  the 
l)resent." — Society/  Small  Talk. 

Small  talk  like  this  is  possible  only  when  both  persons 
have  good  sense  and  ready  humor.  'No  blander  could  be 
more  mortifying  than  to  reply  seriously  to  a  compliment  of 
this  sort ;  and  it  is  a  mistake  to  press  such  compliments 
upon  those  so  matter-of-fact  or  so  slow  of  wit  as  to  be  un- 
able either  to  reply  to  them  or  to  understand  them. 

Receiving  Compliments. — Except  from  an  older 
or  a  trusted  companion,  the  safest  way  to  receive  compli- 
ments, however  genuine,  is  to  turn  them  lightly,  or  to 
treat  them  as  banter  or  good-natured  exaggeration. 

A  French  writer  recommends  that  when  praised  by  another  one 
seem  to  be  inattentive,  or  in  a  reverie.  This  is  as  mde  as  it  is 
absurd,  and  seems  to  say,  "Go  on  with  your  compUments ;  I  en- 
joy them  too  much  to  interrupt  you." 

Two  gentlemen,  occupying  similar  jx)sitions,  were  introduced 
to  the  same  audience,  in  speeches  equally  laudatory.  One  began 
his  remarks  by  expressing  the  \nsh  that  these  commendations  had 
been  reserved  for  the  close  of  his  discourse,  when  it  might  be  bet- 
ter judged  whether  they  were  deserved — an  introduction  meant  to 
be  modest,  but  really  implying  that  the  si>eaker  thought  it  quite 
l)ossible  they  would  prove  to  have  been  deserved. 

The  other  laughingly  waved  ofT  the  compliments  with  his  hand, 
remarking  that  he  used  to  have  the  chairman  for  a  pupil,  and 
though,  on  the  whole,  he  was  proud  of  him,  he  was  sorry  to  see 
that  the  boy's  early  habit  of  exaggeration  was  not  yet  outgrown. 
*•  But  of  course  you  all  know  him  well  enough  to  make  duo  allow- 
ance," he  continued,  and  then  went  on  with  liis  address,  already 
secnze  of  the  good-will  of  his  audience. 

REPROOF. 

Occasion  Less  Frequent  than  for  Compli- 
ment.— The  true  friend  finds  reproof  sometimes  neces- 
sary, but  he  will  assure  himself  that  it  is  necessary,  antl  he 


66  REPROOF.  [Pakt  II. 

will  convey  it  with  all  the  disci-etion  and  delicacy  of  which 
he  is  capable. 

Young  people  usually  have  to  learn  by  experience  that 
when  their  friends  exhibit  peculiarities  the  probability  is 
that  the  peculiarities  have  reasons  which,  though  perhaps 
concealed,  are  entirely  adequate.  It  is  in  presumptuous- 
ly meddling  with  other  people's  affairs  that  fools  of tenest 
rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread. 

The  late  Professor  Skoda,  one  of  Vienna's  greatest  snrgeons,  had 
nntil  a  year  or  two  before  his  death  worn  garments  of  a  moRt  un- 
fashionable cut;  the  trousers  were  baggy,  and  the  coats  most 
ingeniously  ill  fitting.  His  friends  often  joked  with  him  about  the 
matter,  and  Skoda  bore  their  ridicule  good-naturedlj,  without 
making  any  explanation. 

One  day  a  friend  observed  that  he  was  for  a  wonder  clothed  in 
well-fitting  garments  of  the  latest  cut.  **This  is  an  unhoi>ed-for 
pleasure,*'  he  cried,  ••  to  see  you  for  once  properly  dressed.*'  **  Say 
no  more;**  said  the  surgeon  gravely,  **  he  who  has  made  my  clothing 
for  all  the  years  you  have  known  me  did  not,  it  is  true,  give  it  a 
very  fashionable  shape.  But  he  let  me  have  it  long  before  I 
achieved  success ;  and  he  never  pressed  me  for  money  when  he 
suspected  that  I  was  pressed  for  it  myself.  How  would  you  do, 
my  friend — leave  such  a  man  for  one  who  cut  clothing  of  a  differ- 
ent shape  ?  "  "  But  why,  then,  do  you  leave  him  now?  "  "  He  is 
dead,"  repUed  Skoda. 

Reproof  Wlay  be  Disguised. — The  emperor  Ad- 
rian, seeins:  a  chief  officer  whom  he  knew  to  be  envious 
and  malignant  turn  his  back  to  desert  him  in  battle, 
stopped  him  and  said  affably,  '*  You  are  going  wrong,  I 
perceive  ;  this  is  your  way."  The  officer  turned  his  horse 
as  if  it  had  been  a  simple  mistake  of  his,  and  not  a  pre- 
meditated flight. 

Often  reproof  may  be  effectually  conveyed  by  good- 
natured  ridicule  or  exaggerated  imitation.     "  Are  your 


Chap.  IV.]  HOW  TO  CONVEY  REPROOF.  67 

apples  no  larger  than  that  in  this  country  ? "  asked  an  Eng- 
lishman, pointing  to  the  pumpkins  on  a  market-man's 
stand.  "  Apples,"  replied  the  market-man,  with  great 
contempt ;  "  do  you  call  them  little  things  apples  ?  Them's 
huckleberries." 

It  happened  in  a  New  Hampshire  town  that  a  young  native  after 
fteveral  years  of  knocking  about  returned  to  his  home.  There  was 
a  gathering  round  the  stove  in  the  village  store  that  winter  evening, 
and  he  was  listened  to  with  open-mouthed  wonder  as  he  related 
his  experiences. 

But  there  was  one  in  the  company  who  sat  apart,  smoked  his 
pipe  in  silence,  and  gave  no  sign  of  either  interest  or  astonishment. 
At  last  one  of  the  party,  nettled  by  his  apathy,  turned  to  him  and 
said :  "  What's  the  matter  with  you?  You  don't  seem  to  warm  up 
a  bit."  "No,"  he  replied,  slowly,  removing  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  "  I'm  a  Uar  myself." — Boston  Cultivator. 

But  where  given  directly  it  should  be  open  and  manly. 
"If  I  must  suffer,"  said  the  old  philosopher,  "I  would 
rather  it  should  be  from  the  paw  of  a  lion  than  from  the 
hoof  of  an  ass." 

Sometimes  circumstances  seem  to  warrant  somewhat  vigorous 
treatment. 

"What  would  you  do  if  yon  were  I  and  I  were  you  ?  "  tenderly 
inquired  a  swell  of  a  young  woman  whom  he  had  insisted  upon  es- 
corting home  from  church.  "  Well,"  she  replied,  '*  if  I  were  you 
I  should  throw  away  that  vile  cigarette,  cut  up  my  cane  for  fire- 
wood, wear  my  watch  underneath  my  coat,  and  stay  at  home  nights 
to  pray  for  brains."  The  walk  was  finished  in  silence,  and  it  is 
presumed  that  for  once  in  his  life  the  young  man  thought  hard. — 
Hackenmtck  Republican. 

Reproof  Should  be  Private.— When  Socrates 
ropn»v('(l  I*l:ito  at  a  foast,  Plato  replied  that  it  had  been 
better  to  tell  him  of  his  fault  in  private,  for  to  mention  it 
in  public  was  an  impropriety.  S()crate8  answ^ered  :  "  And 
so  it  is  for  you  publicly  to  condemn  that  impropriety." 


58  REPROOI*.  [Part  IL 

Commendation  Should  Accompany  Re- 
proof.— It  .should  be  niaiiitest  t^ut  we  disapprove  not 
the  mail  but  this  particular  fault  iu  the  man,  and  the  more 
because  we  iiud  so  much  else  iu  the  man  to  like.  Thus 
given,  reproof  becomes  a  compliment,  for  unless  we  felt  a 
special  interest  in  the  nffcuder  we  should  not  di.sturh  our- 
selves to  correct  him. 

The  second  class  of  old  people  nr.  n't  iin  <  lotic  ;  they  are  rather 
hearers  than  talkers,  listening  to  the  young  with  an  amnsed  and 
critical  attention.  To  have  this  sort  of  intercourse  to  perfection 
I  think  we  mnst  go  to  old  ladies.  Women  are  l>etter  hearers  than 
men,  to  l)egin  with  ;  they  learn,  I  fear  with  angnish,  to  boar  with 
the  tedious  and  infantile  \-anity  of  the  other  sex  ;  and  wc  will  take 
more  from  a  woman  than  even  from  the  oldest  man  in  the  way  of 
biting  comment. 

Biting  comment  is  the  cluef  part,  whether  for  profit  or  amuse- 
ment, in  this  business.  If  the  old  lady  that  I  liavo  in  my  eye  is  a 
ver}'  caustic  speaker,  her  tongue,  after  years  of  practice,  is  in  abso- 
lute command,  whether  for  silence  or  attack.  If  she  chance  to 
dislike  you,  you  will  be  tempted  to  curse  the  malignity  of  age. 
But  if  you  chance  to  please,  even  sUghtly,  you  will  be  hHtened  to 
with  a  particular  laughing  grace  of  sympathy,  and  from  time  to 
time  chastised,  as  if  in  play,  with  a  parasol  as  heavy  as  a  pole-axe. 

It  requires  a  singular  art,  as  well  as  the  vantage  ground  of  age, 
to  deal  these  stimning  corrections  among  the  coxcombs  of  the 
young.  The  pill  is  disguised  in  sugar  of  \*-it ;  it  is  administered 
as  a  compliment — if  you  had  not  i)leased,  you  would  not  have  been 
censured  ;  it  is  a  personal  affair — a  hyphen — a  trait  (Tunion,  be- 
tween you  and  your  censor ;  age's  philandering,  for  her  pleasure 
and  your  good. 

Incontestably  the  young  man  feels  very  much  of  a  fool ;  but  he 
must  be  a  j^erfect  Malvolio,  sick  with  self-love,  if  he  cannot  take 
an  open  buffet  and  still  smile.  The  correction  of  silence  is  what 
kills  ;  when  you  know  you  have  tmnsgressed,  and  your  friend  says 
nothiuf?,  and  avoids  your  eye.  If  a  man  were  made  of  gutta-poreha 
his  heai-t  would  quail  at  such  a  moment. 

But  when  the  word  is  out,  the  worst  is  over  ;  and  a  fellow  with 


Chap.  IV.  ]      HOW  TO  CONVEY  REPROOF.  59 

any  good  humor  at  all  may  pass  through  a  perfect  hail  of  witty 
criticism,  even'  bare  place  on  his  houI  hit  to  the  quick  ^sith  a 
shrewd  missile,  aiid  reapi»ear,  as  if  after  a  dive,  tingliug  with  a  fine 
moral  reaction— and  ready,  with  a  shrinking  readiness,  one-third 
loath,  for  a  rejxitition  of  the  discipline.  —  Cornhill  Magazine. 

Faults  Should  be  Mentioned  One  at  a  Time. 

— "  We  ought  to  beware  of  reminding  another  of  too  many 
faults  at  one  time.  Tliere  are  few  who  can  bear  accusa- 
tion upon  accusation.  It  is  wisest  first  to  suggest  amend- 
ment in  one  particular,  and  then  wait  to  see  whether  the 
hint  is  heeded ;  if  not,  we  can  hardly  hope  that  farther 
admonition  will  be." 

Qneen  Caroline  pressed  Bishop  Bunkle  to  tell  her  of  her  faults. 
"If  it  so  please  your  majesty,"  said  he,  "  I  will  tell  you  of  one. 
It  is  to  be  lamented  that  you  talk  so  nmch  with  the  king  during 
divine  service."  "  Thank  yon,  my  lord  bishop,"  said  the  queen  ; 
•*now  tell  me  another  of  my  faults."  "  That  I  will  do  with  great 
pleasure,"  said  he,  "  when  you  have  corrected  the  one  I  have  just 
mentioned. "— Heu^-ey. 

The    Command    of    Friendiy    Solicitude. — 

Finally,  reproof  should  be  tlie  command  of  friendly  solici- 
tude. As  the  offspring  of  vanity,  of  censoriousness,  of 
brutality,  of  desire  to  trample  on  another's  feelings  and 
wateh  his  wri things — it  is  detestable.  "  Many  coarse  and 
curt-tongued  people  who  boast  themselves  honest,  are  base 
mongrels  generated  Ixjtween  the  knave  and  the  fool." 

It  la  MtonishitiK  how  verj  many  people  tliere  are  who,  aeetninKly  unable  to  draw 
a  line  between  dMeption  and  ntioenoe,  commonly  aaeodate  indnoerity  with  ooartesy, 
bliintaew  with  honeaty,  aa  though  the  attempt  to  make  thingi  pleasant  must  neconarily 
invulve  deoeit«  aa  if  there  were  a  certain  incompatibili^  between  tmthfnlncoa  and  oon- 

Mkleratiun  for  the  fmlingN  of  other*.    How  often  do  wc  hear  tho  reouu-k,  "Oh, ia 

a  \cry  jroocl  fellow,  but  I  don't  quite  trurt  him,  he'«  too  civil  by  half,"  or  "  You  mnrt  not 

mind '*  rough  manner,  it**  only  his  honetit,  outspoken  way ;  he  cnnnot  help  naying 

what  he  thinks.**  And  so,  on  the  etrength  of  a  repntation  for  honesty,  the  plain,  blunt 
man  MMera  at  or  ignores  the  polinh  which  prevents  unpleasant  friction,  and  expects  to  be 
allowed  toeltiow  his  way  thnuiKh  lift*,  i  riiliii^'  himself  u|ion  the  abrupt  utterance  of  un- 
pleasant truths,  diaconccrtiug  some  pcoplv,  irritating  and  vexing  others,  and,  by  way  of 


fiO  REPROOF.  [Part  II. 


I  own  ladivkhMUtgr,  treading  wiihoitt  oompimotkNi  apon  his  nei^ibor's  flaeM 
ftding*,  and  oftentiiiiM  loaTing  hU  heavy  footprinU  opon  hearU  that  are  tandflr,  Md,  vr 
■orrowfnl.  Pcnons  of  Mroog  wOl  and  ■troof  opiniouii  are,  perhaps,  the  moat  prone  to 
this  tptcim  of  aelf  aawrtion,  batng  mmeh  gtwn  to  meawirteg  and  jodging  evarything  by 
th«ir  own  fixed  Ideaa,  and  to  aboving  an  nBdi^gaiied  oontempt  for  thoae  who  diffv  from 
tham;  bat  ao  far  tnm  a  blunt,  dlaoonrtaooa,  fSaaU^flndlng  apirit,  with  a  keen  eye  for  Uem- 
^haa  and  dafaola,  and  a  doll  apprahanalon  of  merit,  being  in  any  wnj  deairable,  it  only 
|MroT«a  a  man  wanting  in  one  of  tho  moat  neoiwaary  of  aoeial  Tirtnea,  ria. :  aympathy. 
In  arefy  dlaooortaona  not  he  aaya  pnoUoaliy,  **  Tour  oomfort  and  oonvenienoe  are  of  no 
importanoe  to  ma,  yon  are  a  peraon  of  no  conaaqnence  whatever,"  and  naturally  under 
It  ia  aronaed,  good-wiU  Taniahea»  and  affection  melta  away.— 


When  Mr.  BmorMn^a  celaetial  hlde^nd  aoek  waa  over,  and  the  entnmoed  andleace 
wen  reluctantly  going  down  the  aiale,  a  venrrahleold  tmatee  of  the  college,  whoae  bean- 
ttfnl  wlUte  head  waa  ita  crown  o(  glory  for  many  yean,  wliiapered  to  me  with  a  maile 
and  half  a  nigh :  "  Timea  have  changed  I  It  i«  just  twenty  yoan  ago  dnoe  we  had  him 
hare  laat  to  addrceA  thla  mdm  literaiy  aodety.  When  lie  had  flniahed,  the  preaident,  as 
waa  the  cuatom,  called  upon  the  clergyman  to  oooclade  the  aervioe  with  prayer.    Bev. 

Mr. ,  of  W ,  in  thia  State,  atapped  intu  the  pulpit  which  Mr.  Emeraon  had  just 

Tuoated  and  uttered  a  very  remarlcabte  prayer,  of  whidi  I  can  ramamber  only  one  aen- 
laooa  exactly :  *  We  beeeedi  thee,  O  Lord,  to  deliver  na  from  ever  hearing  any  more  anch 
tranaoandent  nonaenae  aa  we  liave  juat  liatened  to  from  thia  aacred  deak.'  ^  ''And  what 
did  Mr.  Bmeraon  aty  ?  **  **  Nothing— oh,  yea ;  after  tho  benediction  he  aaked  of  his  next 
neighbor  tlie  name  of  the  oOoiating  dergyman,  and,  when  falterfngly  anawered.  with 
gentte  aimplidty  remarked:  *He  aaema  a  rvj  oonedentkma,  plain-«q)oken  man,'  and 
went  on  hia  peaoeful  wmj.'"—AaamHe  Monikig. 

The  following  anecdote  of  the  founder  of  Methodism  hai%  we  believe,  never  been  pub- 
lished. It  reachea  ua  from  a  tmatworthy  aoorcc,  and  it  iUuatratea  in  a  remaricable  man- 
ner the  mingled  piety  and  tact  cf  that  eminent  man. 

Although  Wesley,  like  the  Apoetles,  found  that  his  preaching  did  not  greatly  affect 
the  mighty  or  the  noble,  still  he  numbered  some  families  of  good  poeiticm  among  his  fol- 
lowera.     It  was  at  the  house  of  one  of  theae  that  the  incident  here  recorded  took  place. 

Wealqr  had  been  preaching,  and  a  daughter  of  a  neighboring  gentleman,  a  girl  re- 
markable for  lier  beauty,  had  been  profonndly  impressed  by  his  exhortations.  After  the 
sermon  Wesley  wasinvitctl  to  the  gentleman's  boose  to  Inncheon,  and  with  himself  one 
of  his  preachers  was  entertained.  This  preacher,  like  many  of  thn  class  at  that  time,  was 
a  man  at  plain  manners,  and  not  oonacious  of  the  restraints  of  good  society'.  The  fair 
young  Methodist  sat  bobide  him  at  the  table,  and  be  noticed  that  she  wore  a  number  of 
rings. 

Daring  a  pauw  in  the  meal  the  preacher  took  hold  of  the  young  lady's  hand,  and, 
raising  it  in  the  air,  called  Wesley's  attention  to  the  sparkling  jewels. 

"  What  do  yoa  think  of  this,  sir,"  he  said,  *'  for  a  Methodist's  hand  ?  " 

The  girl  turned  crimson.  For  Wesley,  with  his  known  and  expressed  aversion  to 
finer)',  the  question  was  a  peculiarly  awkward  one.  But  the  aged  evangelist  showed  a 
Uct  which  Chesterfield  might  have  envied.  He  looked  up  with  a  quiet,  benevolent  smile, 
and  simply  said  :   "  The  hand  is  very  beantiful." 

The  girl  had  expected  something  very  different  from  a  reproof  wrapped  up  in  such  a 
felicity  of  compliment.  She  had  the  good  sense  to  say  nothing  ;  but  when,  a  few  homrs 
later,  she  again  appeared  in  Wesley's  presence,  the  beautiful  hand  waa  stripped  of  every 
ornament  except  those  which  nature  had  given.— loruto/t  Society. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


CX)MMENDATION. 

IMPORTANCE  OF  APPRECIATION,  p.  45. 
PRAISE  should  be  judicious,  p.  46. 

should  be  definite,  p.  48. 

should  come  from  those  qualified  to  bestow  it,  p.  49. 

should  be  given  unobtrusively,  p.  50. 

should  be  given  where  most  needed,  p.  51. 

should  be  honest,  p.  52. 

The  safest  praise  is  quotation,  p.  53. 
COMPLIMENTS  THE  HAPPIEST  AVENUE  OF  WIT,  p.  53. 

Bantering  compliments,  p.  54. 

How  to  receive  compliments,  p.  55. 

REPROOF. 
Occasion  less  frequent,  p.  55. 
Maj  be  disguised,  p.  56. 

Should  be  open  and  mauly,  when  direct,  p.  57. 
Should  be  private,  p.  57. 

Accompanied  by  commendations,  p.  58. 

Only  occasional,  p.  59. 

The  command  of  friendly  solicitude,  p.  59. 

8UGGB8TIVB  QUESTIONS. 

What  do  yoa  oonsider  most  important,  and  most  likely  to  be  useful, 
praise  or  reproof  ? 

Do  you  agree  with  Sydney  Smith  (page  128)  that  the  dread  of  ridicule 
improves  manners  ? 

What  had  Mr.  Juvenis  (page  47)  better  have  said  ? 

How  may  young  people  (page 47)  most  quickly  "  unlearn  contempt"  ? 

Would  Mr.  Bryant's  praise  (page  48)  have  pleased  the  anther  ? 

Do  you  jostify  Plato  (page  57)  ? 


fc  CHAPTER  V. 

DISCUSSION. 

In  raply  to  m  qaartlon  wb«th«r  tliwv  tad  been  »nj  oonvenntion  iit  a  party  from 
whfcdi  he  had  Jnafc  oome,  Dr.  Johnaon  rp|>li»l :  *'  Nn,  sir ;  we  had  $tUk  enoufch,  but  no  con- 


Advantages  and  Dangers.— Sydney  Smith  has 
thus  epitomized  the  advantages  and  the  dangers  of  argu- 
ment in  conversation : 

"  When  two  men  meet  together  who  love  truth,  and  discuss  any 
difficult  i>oint  with  goo<l-nature  and  a  respect  for  each  other's  un- 
derstandings, it  always  im|)arts  a  high  degree  of  steadiness  and 
certainty  to  our  knowledge  ;  or,  what  is  of  nearly  equal  value  and 
certainly  of  greater  difficulty,  it  convinces  us  of  our  ignorance.  It 
is  an  exercise  grossly  abused  by  those  who  have  recoui*se  to  it,  and 
is  very  apt  to  degenerate  into  a  habit  of  perj)etual  contradiction, 
which  is  the  most  tiresome  and  the  most  disgusting  in  all  the  cata- 
logue of  imbecilities.  It  is  an  exercise  which  timid  men  dread — 
from  which  irritable  men  ought  to  abstain  ;  but  which,  in  my  hum- 
ble opinion,  advances  a  man  who  is  calm  enough  for  it  and  strong 
enough  for  it,  far  beyond  any  other  method  of  employing  the  mind." 

Let  us  examine  these  specifications  in  detail. 

Contradiction  is  Not  Argument. — Axiomatic 
as  this  principle  seems  when  stated,  one  seldom  listens 
long  to  an  argument  without  hearing  it  violated.  It 
is  always  easier  to  assert  than  to  prove,  especially  those 
opinions  in  which  we  have  grown  up,  and  which  seem  to 
us  as  fundamental  facts  as  light,  and  air,  and  water. 

Says  Augustine,  **  If  you  ask  me  what  is  time,  I  do  not  know; 
but  I  know  quite  well  if  you  do  not  ask  me." 


Chap.  V.]  CONTRADICTION  NOT  ARGUMENT.  63 

It  is  as  tlifficiilt  to  defend  life  as  it  is  to  define  it.  Unless  a  man 
knows  what  life  is,  wo  cannot  define  it  to  liim ;  unless  he  feels 
that  it  is  good  to  live,  we  cannot  refute  him  when  he  argues  that 
it  would  have  been  better  not  to  have  been  born. 

"  Give  your  judgment,"  said  an  old  judge  to  a  younger  brother 
on  the  bench,  "  but  don't  give  your  reasons.  The  judgment  may 
bo  right,  but  the  reasons  aie  pretty  sme  to  be  \«ong." 

After  all,  however,  in  some  subjects  no  language  can  accurately 
convey  (to  the  inexi>erienced,  at  least),  all  the  indications  which  in- 
fluence the  judgment  of  an  acute  and  practised  observer.  And 
hence  it  has  been  justly  and  happily  remarked  that  "  he  must  be 
an  indifferent  physician  who  never  takes  any  step  for  which  he  can- 
not assign  a  satisfactoiy  reason." — Whately. 

Besides,  there  is  liardly  any  question  so  firmly  settled 
that  ingenuity  will  not  devise  an  argument  plausible  enough 
to  startle  one  if  it  come  upon  one  unexpected. 

A  criminal,  convicted  of  the  murder  of  his  father  and  mother, 
and  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say  for  himself,  merely  begged 
that  the  judge  would  have  mercy  upon  a  i)oor  orphan. 

An  Iowa  man,  annoyed  that  a  relative  would  concede  no  supe- 
riority in  that  State  over  New  Hampshire,  at  last  exclaimed,  "At 
least  you'll  admit  tliat  Iowa  is  bigger."  *'  I  don't  kn()w  about  that,'* 
was  the  cautious  reply  ;  "  maybe  it  is  a  little  further  from  end  to 
end,  all  tluttoned  out  into  a  level  ;  but  if  you  wrinkled  it  \\\)  into 
mountains  six  thousand  feet  high,  I  guess  you  wouldn't  cover 
much  more  floor-sjmce  than  the  old  Granite  State." 

Archdeacon  Denison  was  once  closely  pressed  in  an  uimiinent, 
but  ha<l  eWdently  resolved  to  die  hard.  At  length  liis  antagonist, 
ft  virtuous  engineer  of  the  Smiles  ideal,  lost  all  jjatience  at  the  ir- 
regular warfare  of  the  archdeacon.  "  Lo<ik  here,  sir,"  he  ex- 
claimed, despairingly,  "do  you  acknowledge  that  two  and  two 
make  four?"  "lam  not  prej>ared  tt)  make  an  admission  of  that 
imi)ortAnce,"  replied  the  archdetvcon,  *«  till  I  liave  given  the  sub- 
ject the  maturest  consideration.  Sometimes  it  is  supi)Osed  that 
they  make  twenty-two." 

Perhaps  notliing  could  seem  more  ho{>eleHs  than  to  argue  that 
revenge  was  a  factor  of  civilization,  and  yet  it  will  probably  be  no 


64  DISCUSSION.  [Part  II. 

slight  task  to  refute  the  following  plea  from  a  recent  number  of 
the  PaU  MaU  GateOe: 

"  In  MTag«  mxAatj,  that  la,  in  vaj  aodety  where  law  baa  no  foroe,  from  Tezaa  to 
Greenland— re veng*  tokea  the  place  of  faith,  hope,  charity,  and  jnatloe.  It  la  the  virtue 
wiihoot  which  the  aodal  orvanlntkm  would  oeaaa  to  exiat  Trlbea  and  families  could 
■oaroely  have  anrvived  if  the  membem  of  either  aaaociation  had  good-naturedly  abstained 
from  revenging  themaelvea.  Nothing  could  have  prevented  the  aoorea  of  rival  families 
and  tribea  from  extarminattng  people  who  did  not  reeent  an  injury. 

"  Now,  it  ia  tapradflat  to  make  a  duty  which  is  univerMl  too  dilBcult  of  aooompUsh- 
nMat  It  would  have  been  difflcolt  always  to  hit  upon  and  slay  the  man  who  wan  guilty 
of  each  particular  offence  to  peraon  or  property.  Barly  cnaiom,  therefore,  permitted  re- 
venge to  be  taken  on  any  bkwd  ralatiooa  of  the  culprit  within  aeven  degreee.  A  man 
qieared  your  grandmothflr  baoaaae  your  nncla  had  devoured  bia  nephew.  Your  duty  was 
done  if  yon  tortured  hia  aaoond  oooatn  to  death  over  a  dow  fire.  Honor  and  custom  were 
aatisfled  for  the  moment. 

"This  doea  not  aaem  a  promialag  state  of  thingt,  and  yet  it  was  full  of  the  seeds  of 
milder  manners.  Familiee  became  interested  in  preventing  even  thetr  poor  relations  from 
ufdng  axe  or  bow  too  hastily.  There  was  no  satisfaction  In  being  apeaeed  because  some 
lung-lost  unde  or  cooain,  with  whom  one  was  not  on  speaking  terms,  had  indulged  him- 
t>4dt  in  a  man-slaughter.  Thus  the  members  of  families  found  it  convenient  to  keep  an 
eye  on  each  other's  movements  and  to  give  up  their  culprits  to  be  dealt  with  by  a  central 
authority.    Gradually  law  came  into  existence,  and  revenge  ceased  to  be  the  chief  end  of 


The  fact  is,  few  people  appreciate  the  difficulty  of  de- 
fending an  opinion  against  a  skilful  opponent ;  and  those 
who  fail  to  detect  a  fallacy,  or  lose  sight  of  their  own  main 
argument,  have  the  annoyance  of  feeling  that  though  they 
are  right  they  cannot  prove  that  they  are. 

Sometimes  the  truth  may  be  established  by  reducing  a  fallacious 
conclusion  to  a  practical  absurdity. 

•*  Father,"  said  a  Freshman,  home  on  his  first  vacation,  "  how- 
many  chickens  are  there  on  the  table  ?  " 

*•  Two,  my  son." 

**  No,  sir,  there  are  three,  and  I  can  prove  it.  There  is  one,  isn't 
there?" 

•*  Yes,  my  son." 

**  And  there  (pointing  to  the  other)  is  two,  isn't  there  ?  " 

"Yes,  my  son." 

"  And  one  and  two  make  three,  don't  they  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son  ;  what  a  great  thing  learning  is,  to  be  sure.  Well, 
since  there  are  three  chickens  there,  I  will  hand  this  one  to  your 


Chap.  V.]   DIFFICULTY  OF  DEFENDING  AN  OPINION.  65 

mother,  I  will  take  this  one  myself,  and  you  shall  liave  the  third 
for  your  logic." 

Especially  humiliating  are  the  defeats  of  those  who, 
having  listened  to  a  single  argument  or  read  a  single  treat- 
ise on  some  subject  hitherto  uninvestigated  by  them,  sup- 
pose that  they  have  mastered  the  subject  itself,  and  in 
proceeding  to  make  converts  happen  upon  somebody  who 
knows  not  only  this  argument  and  its  history,  but  a  dozen 
that  refute  it. 

How  such  a  disputant  appears  to  a  man  of  broad  information  is 
thus  illustrated  in  Coleridge's  "  Table-Talk  :  " 

Mr. is,  I  suppose,  one  of  the  rising  young  men  of  the  day  ; 

yet  he  went  on  talking  the  other  evening  and  making  remarks  with 
great  earnestness,  some  of  which  were  palpably  irreconcilable  with 
each  other.  He  told  me  that  facts  gave  birth  to  and  were  the  ab- 
solute ground  of  principles  ;  to  which  I  said  that  unless  he  had  a 
principle  of  selection  he  would  not  have  taken  notice  of  those 
facts  on  which  he  grounded  his  principle.  You  must  have  a  lan- 
tern in  your  hand  to  give  light,  otherwise  all  the  materials  in  the 
world  are  useless,  for  you  could  not  find  them,  and  if  you  could 
you  could  not  aiTange  them. 

"But  then,"  said  Mr. ,  ** t?iat  principle  of  selection  came 

from  facts." 

"To  be  sure,"  I  replied,  "but  there  must  have  been  again  an 
antecedent  light  to  see  those  antecedent  facts.  The  relapse  may 
be  carried  in  imagination  backwards  forever,  but  go  back  as 
you  may  you  cannot  come  to  a  inan  without  a  previous  aim  or 
principle." 

He  then  asked  me  what  I  had  to  say  to  "  Bacon's  Induction."  I 
told  him  I  had  a  good  deal  to  say,  if  need  were  ;  but  that  it  was 
perliajM  enough  for  the  occauon  to  remark  that  wliat  he  was  very 
evidently  taking  for  the  Baconial  /nduction  was  mere  Deduction — 
a  very  different  thing. 

When  practical  demonstration  is  impracticable,  and  es- 
pecially when  one  begins  to  feel  his  position  really  inse- 


66  DISCUSSION.  [PiLRT  It 

cure,  the  temptation  is  strong  to  make  up  in  loudness  of 
tone  what  one  lacks  in  clearness  of  thought,  and  to  substi- 
tute contradiction  for  argument.  Since  this  impulse  is  felt 
even  by  a  man  honestly  defending  his  convictions,  it  is  easy 
to  conceive  the  fascination  it  has  for  the  young  man  without 
convictions  who  is  merely  anxious  to  attract  attention. 

'*  What  did  you  think  of  mj  argament  ?  **  asks  Jones  of  a  com- 
rade. 

"It  was  sound — ^veiy  sound;  in  fact,  it  was  nothing  bnt 
sound.** 

Here  even  Dr.  Johnson  showed  weakness. 

This  grew  in  part  out  of  his  love  for  paradox,  in  which  feature 
he  bore  a  strong  resemblance  to  the  wits  of  Madame  Geoffriu's 
salon.  To  this  source  is  to  be  attributed  the  strange  lack  of  uni- 
formity and  consistency  in  his  opinions,  it  being  lus  custom  to  be 
iu  the  opposition,  to  whichever  side  of  the  question  he  might  be 
driven.  At  one  time  good  and  at  another  evil  was  i)re(lominant  in 
the  constitution  of  the  world.  Now  he  would  deplore  the  non- 
observance  of  Good  Friday,  and  now  deny  that  there  was  any  de- 
cline in  the  observance  of  religious  festivals.  He  would  sometimes 
contradict  self-evident  propositions,  such  as  that  the  luxiuy  of  the 
country  had  increased  ^lith  its  riches,  and  that  the  j^ractice  of  cartl- 
playing  was  more  general  than  formerly.  He  would  meet  a  sound 
argument  \^-ith  a  "What  then,  sir?"  or  a  "You  do  not  see  your 
way  through  the  question,  sir,"  or,  "  Sir,  you  talk  the  language  of 
ignorance  ; "  and  when  he  was  compelled  to  give  his  assent,  whicli 
he  always  did  reluctantly,  he  would  preface  it  \*-ith  a  "Why  no, 
sir.*' — Hervey. 

The  habit  of  contradicting,  into  which  young  men — and  young 
men  of  ability  in  particular — are  apt  to  fall,  is  a  habit  extremely 
injurious  to  the  powers  of  the  imdei-standing.  I  would  recommend 
to  such  young  men  an  intellectual  regimen  of  which  I  myself,  at 
an  earlier  period  of  life,  have  felt  the  advantages  :  and  that  is,  to 
assent  to  the  first  two  propositions  that  they  hear  every  day  ;  and 
not  only  to  assent  to  them,  but,  if  they  can,  to  improve  and  embel- 
lish them,  and  to  make  the  speaker  a  little  more  in  love  with  his 


Chap.  V.]  NOT  VICTOUT,  BUT  TRUTH.  67 

own  opinion  than  he  was  before.  When  they  have  a  little  got  over 
the  bitterness  of  contradicting  they  may  then  gratlually  increase 
the  number  of  assents,  and  so  go  on  as  tlieii*  constitution  will  bear 
it,  and  I  have  little  doubt  that  in  time  this  will  effect  a  complete 
and  perfect  cure. — Sydney  Smith. 

The  Strife  Should  be  Not  for  Victory,  but  for 
Truth. — Among  the  advantages  of  discussion  enumerated 
by  Sydney  Smith  there  is  no  mention  of  gratifying  one's 
vanity  by  showing  that  one  can  confute  a  companion  ;  yet 
with  many  disputants  that  would  seem  the  sole  occasion 
for  argument.  No  self -defeat  could  be  more  utter.  Grant 
that  such  a  one  has  nothing  to  learn,  that  wisdom  will  die 
with  him,  that  the  sole  purpose  of  argument  is  to  display 
one's  skill,  and  yet  he  fails  of  his  end  ;  for  the  success  in 
argument  is  attained  not  by  confuting,  but  by  convincing  ; 
and  a  man  convinced  against  his  will  is  of  the  same  opinion 
still. 

It  costs  a  man  less  to  admit  that  his  heart  is  hard  than  that  his 
brain  is  weak.  Often  one  j^ersists  in  error  to  escape  confessing 
that  he  has  been  in  error.  Such  a  person  may  be  led  gently  and 
cirruitously  to  i>o8itions  into  which  he  could  never  be  jmshed,  as 
has  been  illustrated  so  well  in  the  fable  of  the  north  and  the  south 
winds.  By  a  series  of  flank  movements,  skilfully  continued,  he 
may  bo  induced  to  propose  as  original,  and  to  urge  upon  his  op- 
|K>nent  the  very  view  which  that  opponent  has  ai'tfully  implanted, 
knowing  that  the  germ  thus  uncons<*iously  received  would  develop 
into  a  conviction  against  which  in  its  completeness  he  would  have 
revolted.  This  is  art  concealing  art,  a  i>orfection  impossible  to 
the  egotist,  who  is  never  content  unless  his  agency  is  manifest. 
As  he  is  the  best  executive  who  never  meddles  Nnth  wliat  is  al- 
ready satisfactory,  and  who  knows  that  he  is  governing  l>est  when 
he  seems  not  to  l>e  governing  at  all,  so  ho  nohievos  the  greatest 
victory  in  argument  who  seems  never  to  care  for  victory,  who  is 
^^illing  to  seem  to  l)e  informed  by  his  opi)onent  of  the  very  prin- 
ciples it  has  taken  him  hours  to  instil  into  that  opponent. 

It  may  bo  urged  that  this  mode  of  argument  is  insidious ;    that 


^^  DISCUSSION.  [Part  II 

to  seem  to  be  oooTinoed  by  another  of  what  one  is  really  oonvin- 
oing  him  involves  an  element  of  deception.  But  in  itself  the 
method  is  simply  a  coooeanon  to  another's  weakness,  and  to  em- 
ploy it  is  right  or  wrong  according  as  otir  ])nrpose  is  to  impi^ss  the 
truth  or  to  iiistil  an  error.  That  it  is  a  frequent  device  of  evil 
men  merely  shows  that  it  is  time  good  men  were  familiar  with  it. 
We  are  commanded  to  be  wiae  as  serpents,  as  well  as  harmless  as 
doves. 

Besides,  among  fair-minded  men  this  is  much  more 
likely  to  lead  to  triitli  than  the  '*  bow-wow  "  manner  of 
Dr.  Johnson,  crushing  down  opposition  and  enforcing  si- 
lence where  one  cannot  carry  conviction.  One  often  starts 
out  to  convert  another,  and  ends  by  being  himself  con- 
verted, because  a  fair  discussion  reveals  new  considera- 
tions. But  if  one  is  intent  upon  discomfiting  and  deniol- 
isliing  an  opponent,  one  will  seek  rather  to  silence  him 
than  to  hear  him. 

"  I  am  one  who  would  gladly  be  refuted  if  I  should  sav  any- 
thing not  true,  and  would  gladly  refute  another  should  ho  say 
anything  not  true  ;  but  would  no  less  gladly  be  refuted  than  re- 
fute ;  for  I  deem  it  a  greater  advantage  to  be  freed  from  the 
greatest  of  evils  than  to  free  another ;  and  nothing,  I  conceive,  is 
so  great  an  evil  as  a  false  opinion  on  matters  of  moral  concern- 
ment."— SocBATES  (in  the  Gorgias  of  Plato). 

Swift  has  obsen-ed  that  "  it  is  a  short  way  to  obtain  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  wise  and  reasonable  man,  whenever  anybody  tells  you  his 
opinion,  to  agree  with  him."  But  this  is  satire,  and  must  be  taken 
with  a  whole  bag  full  of  salt.  The  companion  we  value  most  is  he 
who  gives  us  new  thoughts  and  suggestions,  but  so  skilfully  as 
never  to  wound  our  self-love.  We  enjoy  most,  not  the  argument 
in  which  our  opjwnent  yields  without  an  effort,  but  that  in  which 
he  strives  manfully  and  ably,  and  finally  barely  yields,  just  as  we 
were  ourselves  losing  confidence  in  our  own  side. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  man  thrown  from  his  horse  and  obliged  to 
lie  for  weeks  at  an  inn  where  he  could  get  no  other  rea<ling  than 
a  lot  of  agricultural  reports.     For  sheer  lack  of  other  occui^ation 


Chap.  V]  SPECIAL  SUGGESTIONS.  69 

he  studied  agriculture  as  a  science,  not  dreaming  it  would  ever  be 
of  use  to  him.  But  a  while  after  he  wanted  to  marry  the  daughter 
of  a  wealthy  farmer  who  was  opposed  to  a  city  young  man  for  a 
son-in-law.  Bethinking  himself  of  his  agricultural  information, 
he  began  to  devote  his  visits  to  the  father  instead  of  the  daughter, 
argued  with  him  for  liours  on  questions  of  which  the  farmer  had 
far  less  general  knowledge,  and  regularly  pushed  the  farmer,  point 
by  point,  to  where  defeat  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  then  unob- 
trusively suggested  considerations  which  the  farmer  seized  and 
won  the  victory  with,  while  the  young  man  won  the  daughter. 

Some  special  suggestions  may  be  of  service. 

a.  Be  Always  Ready  to  Listen. — Eeason  teaches 
that  the  first  step  in  a  sound  argument  is  to  ascertain  how- 
far  one  agrees  with  one's  opponent,  and  at  what  point 
their  convictions  begin  to  diverge. 

There  is  something  extremely  fascinating  in  quickness,  and  most 
men  are  desirous  of  appearing  quick.  The  great  rule  for  becom- 
ing so  is  by  not  attempting  to  <ippear  quicker  than  you  really  are ;  by 
resohnng  to  understand  youi*self  and  others,  and  to  know  what 
you  mean  and  what  they  mean,  before  you  speak  or  answer.  Eveiy 
man  must  submit  to  bo  slow  before  he  is  quick,  and  insignificant 
before  he  is  imjwrtant.  The  too  early  struggle  against  the  pain 
of  obscurity  corrupts  no  small  share  of  understandings.  — Sydney 
Smith. 

Before  the  late  civil  war,  when  opinions  were  the  most  pro- 
)iounced,  a  merchant  in  Boston  was  arguing  as  to  some  political 
measure.  The  discussion  hati  continued  for  some  time,  and  was 
growing  warm,  when  his  friend  exclaimed  : 

•*  But  you  are  too  fast,  Mr. ;  you  begin  by  assuming  that 

slavery  is  wrong."  "  Sir,"  said  the  merchant,  stepping  nei*vously 
back,  ♦*  I  am  willing  to  give  money  and  time  to  educating  the 
masses  on  this  question,  but  you  must  take  your  cliances  with  the 
crowd ;  I  have  no  time  to  spend  on  an  individual  fool.  Good 
morning." 

b.  Concede  All  that  is  Unessential.— NOtliing 

more  distinguishes  a  great  mind   from   a  little  one  than 


70  DISCUSSION.  [Part  IL 

recognition  of  the  esflential,  and  concentration  upon  it. 
This  is  in(licate<l  in  the  very  word  7?ia^iantmitt/^  great- 
minded  ness,  wliieh  yields  to  an  opponent  every  tiling  but 
tlic  essential  truth. 

For  instance,  your  opponent  should  be  free  to  use  his 
own  language  and  methods  of  reasoning.  liis  mind  will 
be  occupied  enough  with  tlie  thought,  and  should  be  al- 
lowed to  express  itself  according  to  habit.  To  divert  it 
by  verbal  criticism  wouid  merely  distract  and  confuse. 


'*  Now,  my  mrji,**  mid  a  lawjpr  to  hU  witn«H,  '*  teO  nscauoUjr  whsi  ] 
''  Ym,  dr.      I  Mid  I  would  not  huve  Um  pig.** 
**  And  what  wu  his  anmrar  ?  ** 

•*  He  Mid  h*  had  ban  kaepinc  it  for  ma,  and  that  he ^ 

**  No,  no,  he  ooald  not  have  Mid  thaL    He  ipoke  fai  the  lint  penoa." 

'•  No,  dr,  I  wait  the  flrat  penmi  who  ifnte.** 

*'  Don*t  brinir  in  the  thiid  penoo ;  repeat  hk  exact  woidi." 

**Th«n  waa  no  third  pennn,  dr ;  only  him  and  me.** 

*' My  loodldlMr,  he  dU  not  enj*  Ha  had  haiB  keeping  the  pic.*    HeMid,*IhaTe 


**  I  amare  you,  dr,  there  waa  no  mentkm  made  of  yonredf  at  alL    Wo  arc  on  differ- 
«Bt  etoriea.    There  wae  no  third  pemon  there,  and  if  anything  had  boon  aaid  aboat  yonr 
ra  pig  for  me  I  should  hare  heard  it** 


Cross-eramination. — In  this  case,  if  the  witness  bad  been  called 
for  the  proeeontion,  it  might  have  been  claimed  that  it  was  the 
lawyer's  object  to  confuse  him,  and  thereby  render  his  testimony 
^*al^oles8.  The  following  is  an  example  of  a  sort  of  cross-question- 
ing sometimes  supposed  to  be  as  efifective  as  it  is  unfair. 

•*  You  My  yon  know  Mr.  Smith." 

"  Yes,  dr.** 

"  YoQ  swear  yon  know  him  ?  ** 

"Ye^sir.*' 

"  Yoa  mean  you  are  acquainted  with  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dr,  acquainted  with  hmj.** 

"  Oh,  you  don't  know  him  ;  yon  are  merely  acquainted  with  him.  Remember  that 
you  are  on  oath.  sir.  Now,  be  careful.  You  don't  mean  to  tell  the  court  that  you  know 
all  about  Mr.  Smith,  everything  that  be  ever  did  ?  " 

"  No,  I ♦* 

*•  That'll  do,  sir.  No,  you  do  not.  Very  good.  So  you  are  not  acquainted  with  all 
his  acts?** 

"Of  course " 

*'  Stop  there.    Are  you,  or  are  you  not  ?  *' 

♦♦No." 

♦♦  That  is  to  My  you  are  not  so  well  acquainted  with  him  as  you  thought  you  were  ?  • 


Chap.  V.J  LEGAL  CROSS-EXAMINATION.  71 

'•  Powdbly  not" 

"  Jnat  8o.  Now  we  begin  to  nndentand  each  other.  If  you  don't  know  anything:  about 
Mr.  Smith'a  act«  when  you  arc  not  with  him,  you  can't  Hwear  that  you  know  him,  can  you  V 

**  II  you  pot  it  in  that  way "' 

**Cocne,  sir,  don't  seek  to  evade  my  question.  I'll  put  it  to  you  ngain.  When  you  say 
joa  know  Mr.  Saiith,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  know  everything  he  does  1 " 

'*  No,  gir,  of  oourae  not." 

*'  Just  80 ;  of  ooorm  not.  Then  yon  were  not  qdlte  correct  when  you  said  you  knew 
Mr.  Smith  ?  *• 

"  No,  rir." 

**  Ah,  I  thought  8o.     That'll  do,  sir.     You  can  Rtand  down."' — BoaUxii  Transcript. 

Such  questioning  has  made  the  witness-stand  a  terror  to  many 
worthy  people,  but  its  expediency  may  be  questioned,  even  when 
its  end  is  attained.  For  the  case  is  tried  before  a  judge  or  a  jury 
quite  ready  to  estimate  the  deserts  of  a  client  whose  lawyer  is 
obliged  to  rely  upon  such  methods. 

Besides,  not  all  witnesses  are  easily  brow-beaten.  A  cool  head  and 
a  quick  wit  will  often  hurl  ujwn  the  lawyer's  head  the  veiy  confusion 
he  has  heaped  up  for  the  witness— the  more  easily  because  the 
witness,  like  all  weaker  parties,  has  the  symimthy  of  the  spectators. 

Even  Daniel  Webster  occasionally  met  his  match  in  such  an  encounter.  In  the  some- 
what famons  case  of  Mrs.  Bogcn's  will,  \shich  was  tried  in  the  Supremo  Court,  ho  ap- 
peared as  connspl  for  the  appellant.  Mrs.  Orccnough,  wife  of  the  Rev.  William  Oreenongh, 
a  tall,  straight,  queenly  woman,  with  a  keen  black  eye,  a  woman  of  great  self-posaemion 
and  decision  of  character,  was  called  to  Aie  stand  a.-<  a  witness  for  the  opposite  side. 

At  a  glance,  Webster  saw  that  her  testimony,  if  it  cxmtained  anything  of  importance, 
would  have  grqat  weight  with  the  court  and  jury,  and  he  resolved,  if  tfossible,  to  break 
her  down. 

NoiwithsUnding  his  ro|;K>at(Hl  efforts  to  disconc<>rt  her,  sho  calmly  continued  her  testi- 
mony, until  WabNter,  becoming  fearful  of  the  rcsnit,  made  a  supreme  effort.  He  arose, 
apparently  in  great  agiution,  drew  out  his  largo  snuff-box,  tliru»t  his  thumb  and  tinger 
to  the  very  bottom,  carried  the  deep  pinch  to  b«>th  nostrils,  and  drew  it  up  with  «  gunto. 
Then  extracting  from  hi^  pocket  a  very  largo  handkerchief,  which  nowcd  to  his  ft<f<t  as 
lie  brought  it  to  the  front,  he  blew  bis  noso  with  a  reixtrt  that  rang  distinct  and  loud 
throogh  the  crowded  hall,  and  asked : 

"Mrs.  Qraeooagh,  was  Mrs.  Bogen  a  neat  woman  ? ** 

"  I  cannot  give  full  information  as  to  that,  sir.    She  had  one  Tery  dirty  trick.** 

"  What  was  that,  ma'am  ?  " 

**  She  took  sQaff.** 

The  roar  of  the  coart-hooae  was  such  that  Mr.  Webstar  sat  down  and  neither  rose  nor 
■poke  again  till  Mrs.  Oreenoogh  hud  vacated  hor  seat  for  another  witnem. 

In  reporting  the  Giiitean  trial  a  newspaper  correspond- 
riit  wrote: 

Judge  Porier*B  systom  of  crosH-examination  is  tlie  antagonistic 
<  iM       lli.s  aim  is  to  break  a  witness  down,  to  catch  him  in  a  lie  or 


T2  DISCUSSION. 


Part  II. 


a  oontiBdiction.  This  is  the  old  method.  It  is  more  honored  in 
the  breach  than  in  the  observance.  The  subtlest  modem  lawyers, 
like  Tilden,  Evarta,  Cashing,  the  late  Lord  Cockbnm,  and  others 
have  won  soooeaaea  with  the  sympathetic  method,  which  prove 
by  far  the  better,  and  which  should  relegate  the  antagonistic 
method  to  the  limbo  of  the  obeolete. 

"  The  Porter  method  puts  the  witness  on  his  mettle,  teaches  him 
the  processes  of  the  lawyer,  enables  him  to  anticipate  his  pnr- 
poses,  makes  his  mind  work  like  lightning,  and  breaks  down  the' 
lawyer  twice  as  often  as  it  breaks  down  the  witness. 

'*  By  the  sympathetic  method,  the  witness  is  never  donbted,  de- 
noonoed,  or  diMxmraged.  He  is  sednced  into  pouring  out  his  vn 
sion  in  a  great  variety  of  editions.  His  idiosyncrasies  and  weak- 
nesses are  deferred  to.  A  fatal  fluency  in  him  is  excited  by  all 
the  arts  known  to  courtesy  and  acting.  The  examiner  shown  his 
every  feeling,  and  the  witness  is  delighted— until  the  summing  up. 
He  then  finds,  if  he  has  not  susxiected  it  before,  that  he  is  likely 
to  have  issued  about  five  versions  of  every  fact,  which  differ  enough 
to  be  easily  made  to  seem  conflicting ;  and  that  such  a  photograph 
of  his  weaknesses  has  been  taken  as,  under  the  light  of  logic  and 
sarcasm,  tells  trenchantly  against  him  with  the  jury  and  with  the 
public.  He  forgets  the  lawyer  and'^imself  in  his  pleasure  to  talk 
and  talk  again.  The  lawyer  never  forgets  him  once,  as  the  sum- 
ming up  shows.** 

c.  Stop  When  No  Approach  is  Making  to 
Truth. — '•■Discoverers  of  truth,"  savs  Cowper,  "are 
generally  sober,  modest,  and  liumble  ;  and  if  their  discov- 
eries are  less  valued  by  mankind  than  tliej  deserve  to  be, 
can  bear  the  disappointment  with  patience  and  equality  of 
temper.  But  hasty  reasoners  and  confident  asserters  are 
generally  wedded  to  an  hypothesis,  and,  transported  witli 
joy  at  their  fancied  acquisitions,  are  impatient  under  con- 
tradictions, and  go  wild  at  the  thought  of  a  refutation." 

1.  Never  Compel  Discussion. — "  To  compel  a  man  to  dis- 
cuss with  you  who  cannot  play  the  game,  and  does  not 
like  it,"  says  Sydney  Smith,  "  is  as  unfair  as  to  compel  a 


Chap.  V.]  WHEN  TO  AVOID  DISCUSSION.  73 

person  to  play  at  chess  with  you  under  similar  circum- 
stances." For  this  reason  it  is  rude  to  continually  compel 
expression  of  opinions  by  inquiry,  or  by  appending  a 
"  Don't  you  think  so  '( "  to  a  statement  of  one's  own  views, 
since  it  forces  one's  companion  either  to  assent  to  what  he 
may  not  believe,  or  to  formulate  and  defend  an  opinion 
that  is  but  vague,  and  that  he  is  not  interested  enough  in 
to  dwell  upon. 

2.  Avoid  Discussion  with  Those  UnjiiUdj'or  It. — When 
Hercules  descended  to  the  lower  world  he  w^as  confronted 
by  the  shade  of  Medusa.  He  was  about  to  draw  his 
sword,  w^hen  Mercury  reminded  him  that  it  was  only  a 
phantom.  He  returned  his  sword  to  his  scabbard.  Even 
Hercules  had  no  strength  to  waste  on  a  shadow. 

But  when  a  detrimental  opinion,  though  absurd  and  tri>'ial  in 
itself,  is  likely  to  gain  currency  from  the  earnestness  and  pre- 
tension of  its  advocates,  it  then  becomes  our  duty  to  set  it  in  a 
proper  light.  In  silencing  such  i>ersons  we  must  proceed  accord- 
ing to  the  lights  and  shades  of  circumstances.  Solomon  points 
out  both  the  Scylla  and  the  Charybdis,  of  which  he  would  have  us 
steer  clear.  On  the  one  hand  we  have,  "  Answer  a  fool  according 
to  his  folly  lest  he  be  wise  in  his  own  conceit ; "  on  the  other, 
"Answer  not  a  fool  according  to  his  folly  lest  thou  bo  like  unto 
him."  The  first  direction  is  applicable  to  cases  where  pride  or 
vanity  calls  aloud  for  rebuke.  If  he  is  impudent  or  j-ude,  we  are 
to  treat  him  with  severity  ;  if  positive,  we  miLst  bo  equally  positive, 
and  not  be  tender  of  the  feelings  of  one  who  is  destitute  of  the 
sensibilities  of  the  human  kind.  By  a  satirical  imitation  of  his 
own  language  we  are  to  show  him  to  himself  as  a  mirror ;  by 
copying  his  air,  tone,  or  mode  of  reasoning '  we  are  to  make  him 
ashamed  for  his  corruption  and  sliallowness. 

By  the  second  direction  we  are  to  understand  that  it  is  not  our 
duty  to  correct  an  immoral  i>erson  in  his  own  language,  when  it  is 
profane  or  obscene,  or  to  rei»ly  at  all  when  his  sjK»ech  or  bchaWor 
is  of  a  des<'ripti<m  to  romlor  him  undesor>'ing  of  the  intert^oui-st'  cif 
his  species,  or  when  a  reply  would  be  a  self-degradation. — Hri;' '  v 


74  DISCUSSION.  [P4BT  II. 

▲  4korortir»«ffowbeiiaMnrmDtopen«dtlMti(UiloorofalioaM  on  Biblqr  SCrMi,  In 
iwponM  to  a  tnunp*!  knock,  her  face  kmked  to  kind  and  benevolent  that  the  hungry  man 
had  BO  doabi  that  a  good  dtoner  nwaifeed  hfan.    He  had,  however,  laid  out  a  cenain  pro- 


'*Uj  dear  woaian,  I  haven't  had  anything  to  eat  for  two  days*  and  I  wanted  to  aik  if 
yoa  wrndd  epare  me  one  of  tlMee  lutolee  whkh  hae  fallvn  from  the  eaveef  ** 

**  Wen,  I  dumo,**  idle  alowty  rapliad,  as  aha  fciokad  oot,  **  I  aoppoae  we  might  qian 
joa  one,  if  yon  are  raally  nflHlug,  hot,  of  ooone,  yoa  won't  take  the  hurgeet  and  beet  ?  ** 

He  etepped  down  and  ■■leOed  an  iokl* about  two  feet  long,  and,  in  a  '"■^trttng  man- 
oar,  inqaired: 

"  If  yoo  wookl  only  eprinUe  a  Itttlo  pepper  on  thia  Z  woold  be  forever  grateful.'* 

**It*a  rather  bold  la  yon  to  adc  It,  bat  I  aoppoae  I  oon  aprlnkle  oa  a  Uttie-a  very 
little,**  ahe  rapllad,  aod  ahe  got  the  pepper  and  daatod  hia  **  loarheon  "  very  aiiariogly. 

He  atarted  to  mora  away,  bat,  aaaming  to  raooUeot  aomethiag,  he  tamed  and  Raid : 

**ToaMamaobe«evolBntmaakyoato«dnkleoaallttiaadtaa  welL    I  like  my 


**  Too  are  a  bold  man,  air,  and  lt*8  plain  yoa  have  the  ^>petite  of  a  glntton,  bat  m 
give  yoa  a  bit  of  aalfc  aad  then  yoo  moat  be  gooa^**  ahe  repUed. 

When  the  icicle  had  been  daly  salted,  the  man  impnaaml  his  th.•lnk^  bat  didn't  move 
away.  His  game  waaB*t  worfetng  to  anlt  him.  Some  folka  woa1dn*t  have  stood  there  and 
eeenhimbiteofftheeBdo(abigielele,bat  thegiri  did.  And,  farther,  when  he  heat- 
fated  to  go,  she  indignantly  odled  oat: 

*'  I  know  what  yoa  want  Yoa  now  want  mo  to  warm  the  idole  in  the  ov«i  for  yoa 
and  then  pat  on  some  onufeanl.  I«t  ni  never,  never  do  it !  ** 

Th%  man  moved  alowly  oatof  the  gata,  and,  as  be  threw  his  idde  at  a  pasaing  dcnr. 
he  gave  atteranoe  to  hJa  diagoat  in  langoage  pouctoated  cntirdy  with  alangshots.— />e- 
trott  /Vvc  JVvss. 

3.  Avoid  Discussion  Too  WeujJUy  for  the  Occasion. — A 
tlioiiglitful  man,  introduced  at  a  party  to  a  lady  whose  ap- 
pearance pleased  him,  found  that  she  was  familiar  with 
the  kindergarten  system  of  instruction,  in  which  he  was 
just  becoming  interested.  An  earnest  discussion  followed, 
60  delightful  to  both  that  they  were  thoroughly  engrossed 
in  each  other,  and  parted  with  the  warmest  expressions  of 
good  will.  Soon  after,  seeing  her  again,  he  was  about  to 
readdress  her,  when  a  friend  interj)osed  and  said,  "  Mrs. 

made  me  promise  that  I  would  keep  you  away 

from  her  this  evening.  She  was  so  wrought  up  by  your 
conversation  the  other  night  that  she  was  ill  for  some  days. 
She  says  your  t^lk  is  too  fascinating ;  she  cannot  bear  the 
mental  strain." 

Tlje  irentleiiKiii   wa-    incliiitid   to   i-et^ent  this  excuse  a- 


Chap.  V]  WHEN  TO  AVOID  DISCUSSION.  75 

sarcastic,  but  his  friend  assured  him  the  lady  was  entirely 
candid.  She  enjoyed  talking  with  him ;  in  the  exhilara- 
tion of  the  moment  she  could  sustain  her  part ;  but  it  was 
mental  exertion  too  vigorous  for  her,  and  the  reaction  was 
painful. 

4.  Do  Not  Introduce  a  Knovm  Hobby. — A  hobby  is  by 
definition  unreasonable — that  is,  unsustainable  by  argu- 
ment ;  hence,  after  it  has  been  stated  and  has  become  famil- 
iar, it  is  wearisome.  In  general  one  should  be  wary  of  in- 
troducing and  contmiiing  the  discussion  of  subjects  that  cir- 
cumstances make  more  interesting  to  him  than  to  the  rest 
of  the  company.  The  author's  books,  the  actress's  triumphs, 
the  traveller's  adventures,  the  veteran's  battles,  even  a 
man's  daily  experience  in  his  business  or  profession,  all 
have  their  place  in  convei-sation,  but  only  such  place  as 
the  others  cheerfully  grant. 

Even  when  a  hobby  is  attacked,  you  will  not  aid  youi*self  or 
your  cause  by  disputing  over  it.  If  you  are  boldly  attacked  rep- 
utable people  will  give  you  much  more  credit  for  gi-acefully 
eva<ling  a  strife  of  opinions  than  for  entering  upon  it.  Ladies 
who  have  a  true  claim  to  the  name  invariably  appreciate  and  ad- 
mire such  conduct  in  a  man.  !Mncli  more  skill  and  sagacity  may 
be  shown  in  refusing  to  argue  than  in  so  doing ;  the  one  who  seeks 
to  escape  having  the  great  advantage  of  l>eing  able  to  make  his  ad- 
versary appear  determined  to  api>car  disagreeable  and  discouHcous. 
— Art  of  ConverwUion. 

For  the  same  reason  one  should  avoid  reference  to  tlie 
hobbies  of  otliors. 

You  run  a  great  haasard  by  making  the  slightest  allusion  to  their 
favorite  theme ;  they  will,  in  all  likelihoo<l,  hold  your  button  an 
hour  for  your  pains.  When  two  or  more  i)erHon8  are  known  to 
hold  opiK)8ite  opinions  on  a  subject,  and  fire  iLsed  to  dispu'e  con- 
cerning it,  we  do  well  not  to  refer  to  the  vexed  question  in  their 


T6  W8CTTS8I0N.  [Part  It. 

hearing.  To  Htart  iliat  topic  woro  as  wanton  a  cruelty  aM  it  would 
be  to  set  two  inignacious  ilogs  by  the  earx. — Hek\'ky. 

d.  Yield  Gracefully  when  Convinced.— Whate- 

\y  remarks :  '•  It  may  be  added  that  it  is  a  very  fair  ground 
for  disparaging  any  one's  judgment  if  he  maintains  any 
doctrine  or  system  avowedly  for  the  sake  of  consistency. 
That  must  be  always  a  bad  reason.  If  the  system, 
etc.,  is  right,  you  should  pursue  it  because  it  is  right,  and 
not  because  you  have  inirsuetl  it  hitherto;  if  it  is  wrong, 
your  having  once  committed  a  fault  is  a  j)oor  reason  for 
persisting  in  it.  lie,  therefore,  who  makes  such  an  avowal 
may  thenceforward  be  considered  as  having  no  voice  in 
the  question.  His  decision  having  been  already  given, 
once  for  all,  with  a  resolution  not  to  reconsider  it  or  to  be 
open  to  conviction  from  any  fresh  arguments,  his  redecla- 
rations of  it  are  no  more  to  be  considered  acts  of  judgment 
than  new  impi-essions  from  a  stereotype  plate  are  to  be 
considered  new  editions." 

He  that  is  never  a  fool,  runs  the  proverb,  is  always  a  fool.  Or, 
as  Josh  Billings  puts  it,  '*  The  wise  man  is  not  the  one  who  never 
makes  a  mistake,  but  the  one  who  never  makes  the  same  mistake 
twice." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  a  certain  dislike  attaches  to  one 
who  is  never  in  the  wrong,  well  illustrated  in  the  follow- 
ing story : 

To  the  celebrated  Mme.  Geoflfrin,  who  assembled  at  her  house 
the  first  men  of  letters  of  her  time,  the  Marquis  of  Saint  Lam- 
bert introduced  an  estimable  man  of  learning,  known  by  excellent 
works  he  had  written  on  political  economy. 

For  three  months  the  poet*s  prot/g/  never  failed  to  be  present 
at  the  lady's  receptions,  but  one  day  when  he  was  about  to  enter,  a 
servant  stopped  him  at  the  door  and  said  gravely  : 

**  Madame  cannot  see  you  to-day." 

*'  How — is  she  gone  out  ?    But  I  see  M.  Morrelet  enter,  and  M. 


CHAr.  v.]       DISADVANTAGE  OF  BEING  ALWAYS  RIGHT.  TT 

Thomas.  Why,  there  is  the  Abb^  Delille  humming  an  air  at  the 
window.  Ha,  good  day,  M.  I'AbbC.  How  is  our  dear  lady  to- 
day?   I'm  sure  Hho  is  at  home." 

"Madame,  sir,  cannot  see  you." 

"But  is  she  ill  then?  Of  course  not,  since  I  hear  Diderot's 
loud  laugh,  and  if  Mme.  Geoffrin  were  not  in  health " 

"  Sir,  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons,  but  I  have  simply  to  say  that 
madame  cannot  see  you." 

The  author  bowed,  and  went  to  his  jjatron. 

He  could  make  nothing  of  his  strange  reception.  Had  he  com- 
mitted some  blunder?  The  author  endeavored,  but  in  vain,  to 
show  tliat  he  had  been  in  the  right  in  order  to  prove  that  Mme. 
Geoffrin  was  in  the  wrong.  Saint  Lambert  listened  to  the  end, 
and  only  interrupted  the  eloquent  pleading  with  the  words  : 

*•  You  are  in  the  right,  my  friend ;  a  thousand  times  in  the 
right." 

When  he  had  concluded,  Saint  Lambert  took  from  the  chimney- 
piece  a  letter,  of  which  he  broke  the  seal,  and  presented  it  to  his 
protigif  inviting  him  to  read  it.  It  was  addressed  to  the  marquis 
by  Mme.  Geoffrin,  and  contained  the  following  lines  : 

•'I  close  my  doors,  my  dear  miirquis,  on  your  learned  M.  B ; 

should  I  see  him  often  I  should  be  vexed  to  death ;  and  as  it  liap- 
pens  I  am  still  a  little  attached  to  life — thanks  to  your  friendship 

and  that  of  the  faithful  few  who  resemble  you.     Your  M.  B 

is,  in  short,  intolerable — }ie  i8  always  in  tJie  rig?U." 

These  few  words  enlightened  all  at  once  the  learned  man ;  and 
Saint  Lambert  took  the  opportunity  to  caution  him  against  weary- 
ing his  hearers  by  constantly  and  methodically  dwelling  upon  facts, 
without  advancing  disputable  opinions.  Accordingly  the  polished 
economist  adopted  a  new  system  for  the  barter  of  thought,  and  by 
advancing  paradoxes  and  singular  propositions  was  restored  to  the 
favor  of  Mme.  Geoffrin  ;  in  fact  ho  bocame  one  of  the  most  enter- 
taining and  delightful  conversationists  in  that  coterie  from  which 
he  had  been  so  harshly  expelletl.— Hekvey. 

e.  Finally,  and  Above  All,  Keep  Cood-Na- 
tured. — However  worsted  in  ariijuiiient,  a  man  is  never 
thoroughly  vanquished  till  he  loses  his  temper. 


78  DISCUSSION.  [Part  XL 

We  wonder  what  is  the  sonroe  of  the  mixture  of  syrnj withy—  not 
to  say  approlmtion  —with  which  pepiicrincss,  as  distinguished  from 
bad  teniju'r,  is  generally  treated  by  the  literary  world.  .  .  . 
We  dislike  bad  teui|)er,  but  ailmiriugly  encourage  a  fiery  temper, 
if  it  be  only  a  fiery  temper,  and  unless  it  explodes  at  our  own  ex« 
pense  we  ratlier  like  the  man  who  owns  it  the  better.  The  chol- 
eric character  in  comedy  is  always  a  favorite,  and  we  should  very 
much  like  to  know  why. 

No  doubt  |iart  of  the  reason  is  that  people  always  feel  kindly  to 
a  character  which  in  very  marked  and  conspicuous  aspects,  at  least, 
is  within  their  i>ower,  and  like  a  musical  instrument  will  give  out 
certain  tones  under  their  manipulation.  It  does  not  increase  the 
respect  for  a  man,  but  it  does  the  feeling  of  fellowship  with  him, 
that  he  is  sure  to  respond  in  a  certain  way  to  a  certain  stimulus, 
and  that  you  possess  the  means  of  applying  that  stimulus  at  will. 
Such  a  man  is  liked,  partly  as  a  natural  phenomeuon,  on  the  dis- 
play of  which  under  given  circumstances  you  can  always  rely. 
Just  as  men  like  to  show  off  a  fine  echo  in  a  particular  spot,  and 
will  elicit  it  tlay  after  day  to  the  admiration  of  their  different  guests, 
so  they  like  to  show  off  the  flashes  of  temi)er  with  which  a  fiiend 
answers  the  application  of  the  well-known  irritant.  The  pleasure 
in  it  is  almost  like  the  professional  pleasure  with  which  a  medical 
practitioner  sees  the  blister  rise  when  he  has  ai)plied  the  plaster, 
or  the  chemist,  when  he  has  predicte<l  the  liquidation  of  a  gas,  dis- 
plays the  result  of  the  pressure  he  has  applied.  In  short,  these 
irascible  tempers  verify  their  friends*  predictions  and  also  illus- 
trate their  power  of  playing  uj>on  character. — Foreign  Magazine. 

How  unmanly  it  is  thus  to  be  played  upon  is  well  illustrated  in 
Hamlet's  rebuke  of  Guildenstem. 

ffom.— Will  yon  play  npon  this  pipe  ? 

(?««.— My  lord,  I  cannot. 

nam.—l  pray  yon. 

Ouil. — Believe  me,  I  cannot. 

Bam.—l  do  beseech  yon. 

OuU.—l  know  no  tonch  of  it,  my  lord. 

ffitm. — 'Ti«  a8  easy  as  lying  :  govern  these  ventages  with  your  fingers  and  thnmb, 
give  it  breath  with  your  month,  and  it  will  discourse  most  eloquent  music.  Look  you, 
these  are  the  stops. 

Ouil. — But  these  cannot  I  command  to  any  utterance  of  hiirmony  ;  I  have  not  the 
skill. 

ffam, — Why,  look  you,  now,  how  unworthy  a  thing  you  make  of  me.    You  would  play 


Chap.  V.]  DANGER  OF  FIERY  WORDS.  79 

upoo  me;  you  would  Mxm  U>  know  my  stops ;  you  would  pluck  out  the  he«rt  of  my  mys- 
tery ;  you  vvoulil  suuiul  me  from  luy  lowest  note  to  tin;  top  of  my  compass ;  aud  there  is 
much  music  exccUcut  voice  in  this  little  urgiui ;  yet  cannot  you  make  it  8|>eak.  S'  blood, 
do  yon  think  that  I  »m  euier  to  be  plajod  en  than  a  pipe  ? 

But  temper  uncontrolled  is  more  than  weakness. 

Fiery  words  are  the  hot  blast  that  inflames  the  fuel  of  our  pas- 
sionate nature,  and  foimulated  doctrine  a  hedge  that  confines  the 
discursive  wandering  of  the  thoughts.  In  a  personal  altercation 
it  is  most  often  the  stimulus  men  give  themselves  by  stinging  words 
that  impels  them  to  \'iolent  acts,  and  in  argumentative  discussion 
we  find  the  most  convincing  support  to  our  conclusions  in  the  in- 
ternal echo  of  the  dogmas  we  have  ourselves  pronounced.  Hence, 
extreme  circumsi>ection  in  the  use  of  vituperative  language,  and  in 
the  adoption  of  phrases  implving  particular  opinions,  is  not  less  a 
pnidential  than  a  moral  duty  ;  and  it  is  equally  important  that  we 
strengthen  in  ourselves  kindly  sympathies,  generous  impulses, 
noble  aims,  and  lofty  aspiration,  by  habitual  freedom  in  their  ex- 
pression ;  and  that  we  confirm  ourselves  in  the  great  political,  so- 
cial, moral,  and  religious  truths,  to  which  calm  investigation  has 
led  us,  as  final  conclusions,  by  embodying  them  in  forms  of  sound 
words.— Mabsh. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Advantages  and  dangers,  p.  02. 

Contradiction  not  argiuneut,  pp.  G2-67. 

Difficulty  of  proving  our  beliefs,  p.  64. 
Strife  for  truth,  not  victory,  p.  67. 

SPECIAL  SUGGESTIONa 

a.  Be  always  ready  to  listen,  p.  60. 

b.  Concede  all  that  U  unessential,  p.  6i). 

Legal  cross-examination,  pp.  70,  71. 
'-.   Stop  when  no  approach  is  making  to  truth,  p.  79l 

1.  Never  compel  discussion,  p.  72. 

2.  Avoid  discussion  with  thoee  unfitted,  p.  73. 


so  TOPICAL   ANALYSIS.  [Part  11. 

8.  Avoid  discassion  too  weighty  for  the  occasion,  p.  74. 

4.  Do  not  introduce  a  known  hobby,  p.  75. 
d.  Yield  gracefully  when  convinced,  p.  70. 

Wrong  to  be  always  right,  p.  76. 
«.  K«ep  good-natured,  pp.  77-79. 

SUQOBBTiVK  QUKSTIONa 

Is  the  oobbler*8  mle  (page  *M7)  a  correct  one  ? 

Do  you  agree  with  the  Foiriffn  MagagiM  (page  78)  that  a  fiery  temper 
obtains  sympathy,  and  are  the  reasons  given  for  this  sufficient  ? 
What  portion  of  the  chapter  do  the  following  lines  illustrate  1 

The  Centipede  was  happy  quite. 

Until  the  Toad,  in  fun. 

Said,  "  Pray  which  leg  goes  after  which  ?  " 

That  worked  her  mind  to  such  a  pitch. 

She  lay  distracted  in  the  ditch. 

Considering  how  to  run. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

STORY -TELLING. 

It  baa  often  been  my  lot,  in  preaching  to  a  rustic  congregation,  to  be  told  by  my 
bearers,  by  umuistnlcable  outward  signs  which  every  preacher  oughc  to  be  quick  to  recog- 
nize, that  1  have  been  running  too  long  in  one  groove.  On  audi  occasions  1  generaliy 
use  at  the  end  of  my  period  the  cabalistic  formula,  Xow  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  ntory. 
It  ia  like  the  adjutant's  cry  of  "  'tteution  !  "  to  the  regiment  standing  at  ease ;  it  is  the 
nnfailmg  **  Open  sesame ''  ti  blinking  eyes ;  it  acts  as  the  sound  of  Blucher's  guns  at 
Waterloo,  and  gives  the  victory  at  once  to  virtue  and  wakefulness  in  those  struggling 
hearers  whose  whole  reserve  of  vital  power  has  been  engaged  by  nature  in  the  huge  ef- 
fort of  digesting  their  one  weekly  dinner  worthy  of  the  name.— Bi^cklkt. 

As  Illustration  In  Argument. — The  mind  may 
reach  a  given  truth  either  by  studying  cause  and  effect,  or 
by  perceiving  an  analogy.  The  first  method  requires 
trained  faculties,  and  demands  close  attention.  The  latter 
is  natural  to  every  human  being,  and  demands  only  com- 
parison. Hence  illustration  is  a  main  resource  in  argu- 
ment. He  who  has  at  hand  an  apt  story  will  carry  con- 
viction where  logic  would  fail. 

Of  course,  a  storj'  carries  weight  in  argnment  only  so  far  as  it 
accords  with  general  experience.  A  country  deacon,  riding  to 
church  with  his  daughter,  snw  two  strange  boys  making  for  the 
brook  with  fishing-poles. 

"My  boys,"  the  deac>on  said  solemnly,  **I  knew  two  boys  who 
went  fishing  on  Sunday,  and  one  of  them  was  drowned." 

"  Pooh,  that's  nothing,"  was  the  indifferent  reply  ;  "I  knew  an 
old  man  who  went  to  ride  >\ith  a  young  woman  on  Sunday,  and 
they  were  both  struck  by  lightning." 

Anecdotes  Only  Adjuncts  of  Conversation. 

— In  general  society  stories  are  told  less  fre(iuently  to  con- 
vince an  opponent  than  to  promote  hilarity.     When  sub- 


82  ftTORY-TELLINO.  [Part  II. 

jects  of  general  interest  seem  to  have  been  exhausted  they 
are  sometimes  a  substitute  for  conversation ;  but  usually 
they  should  be  only  adjuncts,  suggested  by  something  al- 
ready said,  and  serving  to  illustrate  it.  The  professional 
story-teller,  especially  the  man  with  some  two  or  three 
stock  stories,  is  commonly  as  dreaded  as  he  is  despised. 

Doddington  falling  asleep  one  day  in  the  company  of  Sir  Rich- 
ard Temple,  Lord  Cobham,  and  others,  one  of  the  party  reproached 
him  for  his  drowsiness.  He  replied  that  he  hatl  lost  nothing,  for 
he  could  repeat  all  that  Lord  Cobham  had  been  saying ;  and  when 
challenged  to  do  so,  he  repeated  a  stoiy  which  Lord  Cobham  could 
but  confess  he  had  jnst  told,  and  told  no  better.  •*  And  yet,"  said 
Doddington,  "I  tlid  not  hear  one  word  of  it ;  I  went  to  sleep  be- 
cause I  knew  you  always  told  this  story  at  about  this  time." 

On  an  occasion  when  Colonel  Barre  brought  forward  a  motion 
on  tho  British  na%y,  Lord  North  said  to  a  friend  of  his  sitting  next 
him  :  ♦'  Now  Barre  will  give  ns  our  naval  liistory  from  the  begin- 
ning, no!;  forgetting  Sir  Francis  Drake  and  the  Armada.  All  that 
is  nothing  to  me,  so  let  me  sleep  on,  and  wake  me  when  we  come 
neai'  our  own  times."  His  friend  at  length  aroused  him,  when 
Lord  North  exclaimed:  ''Where  are  we?"  "At  the  battle  of 
LaHoguo,  my  Lord."  "  O,  my  dear  friend,"  said  North,  "you 
have  waked  me  a  century  too  soon." 

Especially  contemptible  is  he  who  watches  for  opportu- 
nity so  to  turn  the  subject  as  to  introduce  his  anecdote,  and 
who  thinks  nothing  of  breaking  into  a  conversation  inter- 
esting and  profitable,  provided  he  thereby  get  an  opening 
for  his  pet  story. 

An  old  gentleman  whose  favorite  anecdote  was  about  a  gun,  and 
who  found  it  difficult  to  establish  any  natural  connection  between 
it  and  whatever  happened  to  be  the  topic  of  conversation,  used  to 
stamp  loudly  upon  the  floor  and  exclaim  :  "Bless  me,  what's  that  ? 
a  gun  ?  By  the  way,  talking  of  guns,  ..."  And  then  he  told 
his  story. 

Men  so  obtuse  are  apt  to  miss  the  point  of  the  stories  they  tell. 


Chap.  VI.  ]        ANECDOTES  A  MEANS,  NOT   AN   END.  83 

A  man  at  dinner  where  a  servant  dropped  a  dish  of  tongue  ob- 
serving that  a  gi-eat  laugh  was  created  when  the  host  remarked, 
••Merely  a  lapsus  lingiup,"  stmightway  prei>ared  a  dinner,  invited 
his  guests,  and  instnicted  his  servant  to  let  fall  the  roast  mutton. 
The  senant  did  so,  and  as  the  guests  turned  the  host  exclaimed, 
••  Only  a  lapsus  lingwF,  ha !  ha !  h— ;  "  and  then  he  paused,  won- 
dering why  nobody  else  laughed. 

From  such  temptations  he  will  be  rclieved  wlio  consults 
not  his  own  glorification  but  tlie  liappiness  of  the  com- 
pany. He  will  be  prompted  only  to  sncli  stories  as  nat- 
urally suggest  themselves,  and  as  are  fitted  to  promote  the 
discussion  or  the  pleasant  feeling  of  the  moment 

Adaptation  to  the  Time  and  the  Company. 

— He  will  be  esjiecially  wary  of  giving  offence.  However 
humorous  and  upt  may  be  tlie  story,  he  will  withhold  it  if 
it  seem  likely  to  wound  the  feelings  or  to  shock  the  sensi- 
tiveness of  anyone  present.  Not  only  will  he  scrupulously 
avoid  any  approach  to  irreverence  or  indelicacy  (see  page 
29),  but  he  will  bear  in  mind  the  peculiar  history  and 
prejudices  of  those  present  (see  page  18). 

Stories  Should  Not  be  Allowed  to  Weary. — 

Stories  are  usually  pungent  in  proportion  as  they  are  con- 
densed. Sir  William  Temple  says  that  there  used  to 
be  at  the  inns  of  Scotland  tale-tellers,  wliose  business  it 
was  to  lull  restless  travellers  to  sleep  with  stories  of  giants 
and  dwarfs.  One  should  have  enough  oratorical  power  to 
perceive  whether  he  ie  retaining  the  sympathy  of  his 
audience.  If  their  attention  is  roused  by  his  beginning, 
and  if  he  perceives  no  signs  that  the  story  is  an  old  one  to 
his  Iiearers,  he  may  elaborate  and  dwell  u|K)n  details  till  lie 
has  made  the  scene  as  vivid  as  life,  and  holds  his  listeners 
trembling  with  eagerness  for  the  climax. 


84  STORY-TELLING.  [Part  IL 

It  is  not  becanse  stories  are  long  that  they  weary.  John  B. 
Gough  ^ill  spend  ten  minutes  upon  an  anecdote  which  the  morn- 
ing newspaper  told  in  five  lines.  Once  sure  that  it  is  appropriate, 
and  that  the  point  will  penetrate,  he  will  give  his  imagination  rein 
and  surround  the  incident  with  a  wealth  of  details.  But  he  will 
be  sure  tliat  every  one  of  these  details  shall  deepen  the  interest  of 
the  audience  and  heighten  the  climax. 

When  one's  story  is  coldly  received,  or  wlioii  tlic  interest 
first  wakened  begins  to  wane,  one  sliould  hasten  to  con- 
clude it,  and  if  it  falls  flat  should  neither  repeat  nor  ex- 
plain. If  interrupted  in  the  midst  of  the  narration  by 
some  accident  or  rudeness,  one  should  not  return  to  one's 
story  unless  invited  to  do  so.  We  must  never  forget  that 
a  story  should  be  told,  not  for  our  sake,  but  for  that  of  the 
company,  and  that  the  company  is  the  best  judge  whether 
it  wants  to  listen. 

Stories  Should  be  Artistically  Told. — Most 
faihires  in  story-telling  result  from  lack  of  preparation. 
One  forgets  or  altogether  misses  the  point.  He  remembers 
that  he  laughed  over  something  he  once  lieard  told,  and  he 
tries  to  repeat  it  without  a  clear  notion  of  where  the  laugh 
came  in.  Perhaps  the  fun  lay  in  the  circumstances  under 
which  the  story  w^as  told,  which  cannot  be  reproduced ;  or 
in  the  peculiar  manner  of  the  speaker,  which  cannot  be 
imitated ;  or  in  the  hilariousness  of  the  moment,  which  is 
now  wanting. 

But  oftenest  the  fault  is  in  failure  to  recover  the  art 
with  which  the  story  was  told — the  quiet  introduction, 
the  unobtrusive  but  skilful  arrangement  of  details,  every- 
thing being  omitted  that  did  not  bear  on  the  conclusion, 
and  every  incident  so  introduced  as  to  accumulate  interest 
till  the  climax  was  sprung:  u]K)n  the  hearers  just  as  their 
attention  was  stretched  to  the  utmost. 


Chap.  VI.]  ARTISTIC   STORY-TELLING.  86 

An  artistic  bit  of  story-telling  is  Sydney  Smith's  reference  to 
Mrs.  Partington  in  a  speech  on  the  "Reform  Bill,"  delivered  at 
Taunton : 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  disrespectful,  but  the  attempt  of  the  lords 
to  stop  the  progress  of  reform  reminds  me  very  forcibly  of  the 
great  storm  of  Sidmouth,  and  of  the  conduct  of  the  excellent  Mrs. 
Partington  on  that  occasion.  In  the  winter  of  1824  there  set  in  a 
great  flood  upon  that  town — the  tide  rose  to  an  incredible  height, 
the  waves  mshed  in  ujwn  the  houses,  and  everything  was  threat- 
ened with  destruction.  In  the  midst  of  tliis  sublime  and  terrible 
storm  Dame  Partington,  who  lived  upon  the  beach,  was  seen  at  the 
door  of  her  house  with  mop  and  pattens,  trandling  her  mop, 
squeezing  out  the  sea-water,  and  ^^gorously  pushing  away  the 
Atlantic  Ocean.  The  Atlantic  was  roused.  Mrs.  Partington's 
spirit  was  up  ;  but  I  need  not  tell  you  that  the  contest  was  un- 
equal. The  Atlantic  Ocean  beat  Mrs.  Partington.  She  was  ex- 
cellent at  a  slop  or  a  puddle,  but  she  should  not  have  meddled 
with  a  tempest.  Gentlemen,  be  at  your  ease,  be  quiet  and  steady. 
You  will  beat  Mrs.  Partington." 

Contrast  with  this  the  following  : 

Mark  Twain,  writing  upon  Franklin,  mys  :  "He  waa  twins,  baring  been  bom  nimnl- 
taneooaly  in  two  houses  in  Boston."  There  Ir  an  unconscious  organic  assumption  that 
both  bouses,  since  people  insist  apon  both,  mast  have  been  the  spots  of  his  birth.  If  so 
the  birtha  in  tbe  two  hoaaaa  moat  hare  been  simultaneooF,  but  the  two  Franklins  not 
Identical.  Of  coarse,  then,  they  most  have  been  twins.  .  .  .  But  I  am  reminded  of  a 
famous  wit  who,  after  Tiewing  the  Siamese  twins  for  awhile,  quietly  remarked,  "  Broth- 
ers, I  Buppoed."—  ir«<M*«  WU,  Humor,  and  Shak^pert. 

Mark  that  in  the  first  half  of  this  paragraph  Mr.  Weiss,  by  en- 
deavoring to  explain  the  humor,  lets  it  entirely  escape.  It  is  the 
precise  point  of  the  joke  tliat  the  two  Franklins  are  identical,  and 
that  he  (not  they)  was  twins.  And  in  the  second  half  the  story  is 
spoiled  by  making  a  wit  say  that  the  Siamese  twins  were  probably 
brothers.  That  particular  kind  of  remark  is  funny  only  when  it  is 
a  blunder— a  bull,  as  it  is  usually  called.  Tlie  zest  of  the  incon- 
gruity is  lost  when  the  8i>eakcr  liimself  jx^rceives  it  and  bases  his 
remark  upon  it.  How  much  funnier  is  the  stoiT  of  the  learned 
professor  who  iua<l»»  the  Siamese  twins  the  occasion  of  a  lecture  to 
his  stndtnits  UjMin  llu»  iMMioficcnce  of  Providonce.  "  Here  they  are," 
he  said,  '*  attached  indissolubly  to  each  other,  obliged  to  share 


W  STORYTELLING.  [Part  II 

each  with  the  other  every  joy,  every  sorrow,  every  act  of  life.  How 
kind  the  diHpensation,  then,  that  makes  them  brothers.  Suppose 
they  had  been  bom  strangers  to  each  other,  how  intolerable  would 
such  an  intimacy  have  become." 

Accuracy  In  Details.— Whether  the  story  be  of 
what  we  have  seen  or  of  what  we  liave  lieard,  niucli  of  its 
efiFect  depends  uj)on  the  accuracy  with  which  it  is  told. 

Nothing  can  be  ruder  or  more  indicative  of  a  small  mind  than  U 
interrupt  a  story-' eller  with  a  correction  of  some  misstatement  that 
has  no  bearing  upon  the  point  at  issue  ;  yet  the  fact  that  such  in 
terruptions  are  common  shows  how  instinctively  the  mind  watches 
for  these  errors.  Consequently  the  habit  should  be  formed  of 
omitting  what  one  is  not  sure  of.  If  you  know  an  anecdote  is  Tom 
Hood's  it  may  make  it  more  interesting  to  say  so  ;  but  if  you  are 
not  sure,  yet  say  so,  perha^js  half  your  hearers  will  remember  that 
it  is  Charles  Lamb's,  and  will  be  more  intent  on  assuring  themselves 
that  you  have  made  a  mistake  than  upon  observing  the  pertinence 
of  the  story. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  you  begin  : 

*•  That  reminds  me  of  a  story  of  Tom  Hood's— or,  it  may  be,  of 
Charles  Lamb's,  or  possibly  of  Douglas  Jerrold's — though  I  don't 
think  it  sounds  much  like  him,  because  he  was  always  so  biting — 
suckled  on  a  lemon,  somebody  said — but  then  one  forgets  which 
man  said  these  things,  and  after  all  it  doesn't  matter  much  ;  at 
any  rate  it  is  very  good,  and  I  think  it  was  Tom  Hood's,"  etc.,  not 
Mrs.  Nickleby  herself  could  more  effectually  make  herself  weari- 
some. 

Moreover,  these  details  are  often  the  charm  of  the  story. 
Few  are  so  accustomed  to  analyze  their  impressions  as  to 
be  sure  just  which  are  the  elements  of  incongruity  that 
make  a  situation  amusing ;  but  tliose  who  observe  mi- 
nutely and  recall  frequently  the  peculiarities  of  the  occa- 
sion will  impart  a  vividness  to  the  narrative  not  otherwise 
attainable. 

Few  stories  are  well  told  tlie  first  time,  because  it  is  only 


CiiAP.  VI.)  ACCURACY  AND  SIMPLICITY.  87 

after  an  unsatisfactory  telling  that  one  begins  to  ]*ealize 
that  like  any  other  work  of  art  a  story  deserves  delicate 
workmanship.  Effectiveness  is  often  sought  by  means  of 
exaggeration,  but  this  is  easily  detected.  The  artist  ad- 
lieres  precisely  to  the  facts,  but  shows  his  skill  in  omit- 
ting none  that  are  essential  to  the  effect,  and  in  admitting 
no  others. 

Mimicry  is  usually  to  be  shunned.  It  is  seldom  agreeable  ex- 
cept when  instinctive — when  the  imagination  recalls  the  scene  so 
vividly  that  the  speaker  unconsciously  adopts  what  is  distinctive  in 
the  manner  of  the  person  represented.  Much  of  what  is  meant  for 
mimicry  is  simply  buffoonery,  unworthy  of  the  monkey  that  accom- 
panies a  hand-organ. 

Simplicity  of  Narration. — Much  of  the  effect  of 
story-telling  depends  upon  the  simplicity  of  it.  There 
should  be  no  such  preamble  as,  "  Well,  the  best  thing  I 

ever  heard  was ,"  or,  "  If  you  want  to  laugh  just  listen 

to  this ."  The  less  expectation  is  raised  at  the  begin- 
ning the  readier  will  be  the  appreciation  at  the  end.  Even 
when  introducing  another's  story  we  should  beware  of 
embarrassing  him  by  promising  too  much  for  him. 

In  like  manner  one  should  avoid  preliminary  chuckling. 
While  it  would  .  _  t-ruel,  as  Charles  Lamb  says,  to  deprive 
the  story-teller  of  any  participation  in  the  merriment  he 
excit«s,  lie  should  be  sure  the  merriment  lias  been  excited 
before  he  participates  in  it,  or  he  may  find  that  his  laugh  is 
a  solo.  If,  however,  he  has  told  his  story  well,  and  held 
the  interest  of  his  audience,  when  the  climax  comes  lie 
may  sometimes  lead  the  laugh  that  follows,  though  often 
the  effect  is  heightened  if  he  can  maintain  an  unmoved 
gravity. 

There  is  a  look  by  which  a  man  shows  when  he  is  going  to  aay 
a  good  thing,  and  a  look  when  he  has  said  it— Emebson. 


88  STORY-TELLING.  [Part  IL 

The  difficulty  is  that  such  looks,  by  showing  that  the  speakei 
has  pronounced  judgment  on  his  remark,  deprive  us  of  the  privilege 
of  passing  judgment,  our  rightful  prerogative  as  listeners.  This  we 
are  apt  to  resent,  and  to  withhold  or  give  reluctantly  the  applause 
really  deserved  by  the  remark  itself. 

Cautions. — No  dishonest  artifices  should  be  employed, 
like  inserting  new  names  into  old  stories  and  passing  them 
off  as  personal  experience.  If  the  anecdote  be  an  old  one 
say  so,  but  do  not  submit  to  the  humiliation  of  pretending 
yourself  to  have  seen  what  you  have  only  heard  or  read 
about. 

Above  all  things  never  retell  a  story  just  offered,  no 
matter  how  much  better  you  can  do  it ;  nor  let  it  be  seen 
by  your  manner  that  you  have  heard  it  before,  however 
familiar.  Xor  should  one  strive  to  eclipse  a  story  just  told 
by  another  of  like  import,  but  should  supplement  it  only 
when  one  has  at  hand  another  that  will  heighten  the  effect 
of  that  just  told. 

How  far  one  may  be  personal  and  touch  on  private  mat- 
ters in  public  is  a  question  of  great  delicacy,  and  must  be 
left  to  individual  judgment.  When  happil}-  done,  it  pro- 
duces the  very  highest  effect.  With  an  illustration,  we 
leave  the  reader  to  draw  his  own  inferences. 

I  was  at  a  Lotas  Club  dinner  recently  and  a  pretty  well-known  jonrnalist,  being  called 
on  for  "  a  speech  !  a  Rpeech  !  "  after  the  uproarious  habit  of  that  intellectual  circnB,  rose 
and  told  a  story.  '"  It  might  be  called."  said  he,  with  a  sly  look  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
where  sat  in  presidential  majesty  a  rather  corpulent,  slightly  bald,  middle-aijed  man , 
'*  it  might  be  called  'How  I  got  into  a  magazine.' "  Then  he  changed  to  tht  other  foot, 
blushed  slightly,  leaned  on  his  fork,  and  said  : 

•'  I  had  an  article  once  which  I  thought  would  make  six  pages  in  a  magazine— if  it 
got  a  chance.  I  concluded  to  give  the  Atlanfc  Monthly  the  benefit  of  it,  because  that 
was  a  superb  creation  of  the  human  intellect  and  ought  to  be  encouraged.  [Smiles  and 
raps  on  the  table.]  I  sent  it  to  that  periodical,  saying  that  it  was  my  maiden  effort,  and 
asking  the  editor  to  sond  me  the  $100  by  draft  or  money  order.  In  three  weeks  it  came 
back,  to  my  utter  amazement,  with  the  printed  notice  that  it  was  excellent,  but  not 
adapted,  etc.  I  saw  that  the  editor  of  the  Atlantic  was  a  fool.  [Cheers  around  the  table 
and  cries  of  satirical  approval.]  I  sent  it  to  another  well-known  magazine,  oflfering  it 
for  f  50.     It  came  back  in  two  months,  just  when  I  was  looking  for  it  to  appear.     That 


CUAP.  VI. J  TWO   AFTER-DINNER   SPEECHES.  89 

magazine,  too,  wm  evidently  a  failure  !  I  then  sent  it  (price  $15)  to  a  firat-class  weekly, 
that  printed  juet  Huch  things  as  my  fiketch,  '  Mary  Wanley's  Ouide,'  but  nut  half  as  well 
written.  [Cheers  and  encouraging  renuurks.J  Again  it  was  sent  back.  [Laughter.]  I 
could  nut  understand  it.  I  ronld  not  believe  that  our  perio<licnl  literature  was  decaying 
so  fut.  I  offered  it  to  another  journalist  fur  nothing,  tellint;  him  that  I  was  a  beginner, 
that  thia  waa  the  flrst  effort  of  the  sort  1  had  ever  offere<l  to  anybody,  and  I  watched 
bis  face  as  he  examined  it  suspiciously,  and  finally  ruturned  it  to  me,  haying  that  the 
■tjle  was  faulty ;  the  idea  was  good,  though  it  might  have  been  used  heretofore ;  but 
with  study  and  careful  practice  I  would  make,  perhaps,  in  time,  etc.     [Laughter.] 

•*  I  was  mad,  gentlemen  I "  said  the  speaker  amid  the  roars  of  the  company,  and 
loaning  on  the  chair  with  his  other  hand,  he  went  on:  "Something  heroic  must  be 
done !  Two  years  had  passed.  It  was  now  1871.  1  resolved  to  storm  the  clta«lel,  I 
borrowed  my  brother's  aeal-skia  overcoat,  so  as  to  look  as  imposing  as  possible,  and 
•truck  for  an  illustrated  magazine  I  had  not  tried ;  one  of  the  finest  works  of  art  in 
the  world.  The  doorkceiMjr  stood  briskly  aside  a<i  I  went  in  and  asked  for  the  editor, 
whose  name  I  did  not  then  know.  I  was  speedily  ushered  into  the  presence  of  a  j  oung 
man  who  asked  me  to  be  seated,  end  inquired  my  busineHf».  '  To  see  the  editor.'  He 
would  examine  my  manuscript.  '  Very  well,'  I  said,  still  standing.  *  I  must  have  an 
answer  in  flft<ien  minutes,  as  I  leave  on  the  next  train  for  Boston.'  He  parleyed,  but  I 
was  severe  and  taciturn,  and  reacl»tl  for  the  manuscript  which  he  had  taken.     '  I  will 

■ee  Mr.  ,'  said  he,  naming  the  editor  himself.    The  latter  appeared.    *  We  will  sind 

this  to  you  by  mail,'  said  he,  '  if  it  is  not  used.'  '  I  can  leave  it  with  you  only  fifteen 
minntea,'  I  replied.  He  looked  surprised  and  glanced  at  the  title.  '  You  can  surely 
leave  it  one  night,'  he  expostulated.  *  No,'  I  rejoined  resolutely,  '  I  have  other  uses  for 
iL'  In  that  I  snppoae  he  scented  the  opposition  house,  fur  he  took  off  his  overcoat  (he 
was  just  going  home)  and  said  :  '  I  will  look  it  over  now.'     [Cheers  around  the  table.] 

"  He  waa  a  fine-looking  man  as  he  sat  there  In  the  dying  twilight— [Cries  of  *  Oh  ! ' 
*Ah!*]— a  rather  corpulent,  slightly-bald,  middle-aged  man  (at  this  the  company 
turned  toward  the  presiding  officer,  who  was  as  red  as  a  boiled  lobster,  and  then  they 
roared  with  glee),  and  he  looked  up  in  about  ten  minntcx.  and  said :  '  I  will  take  this 

;  Mr.  Oliver,  plenae  make  out  a  check  for  96U.*     '  What  ? '  I  asked,  '  $60  ?  my  price 

is  |IS6.'  '  Ah  I '  said  he,  passing  the  manuscript  to  me,  •  it  is  more  than  we  ever  pay 
anybody,  except  famous  writers.'  I  delivered  a  stately  bow,  took  the  roll  of  paper,  and 
turned  out  of  the  door.  *  Well  I '  said  he,  calling  to  me,  '  we'll  Uke  It  at  $135 ; '  and 
Mr.  Oliver  made  out  my  check.  [Cheers  and  roars  of  langhter.  The  num  at  the  head  of 
the  uble  had  turned  a  sort  of  indigo  blue.] 

'•  The  worst  of  it  is,  or  the  best  of  It,"  said  the  narrator,  '*  that  I  have  not  seen  or 
heard  of  that  sketch  during  all  these  »even  yean ! " 

The  Lotos  Club  hall  rang  with  cheers  and  kutghter.  for  his  manner  of  t*>lling  the 
story  was  indescribably  droll,  and  then  all  parties  turned  toward  the  presiding  officer, 
who  was  reoogniaed  as  the  hero  of  the  narrative. 

He  roae  slowly  to  his  feet ;  the  blue  went  out  of  his  face,  and  even  the  scarlet  turned 
to  the  rosy  flash  which  is  hatdtoal  to  it,  and  he  smiled  cheerfnlly  by  the  time  the  cheers 
and  gafEaws  whldi  greeted  him  had  died  away. 

'*  The  fact  is.''  he  beRwa  deprecatlngly.  and  then  there  was  another  great  roar  ot 
Uughtar.  "  Tea :  I  well  remember  the  drcnmstances.  I  aooepiod  the  sketch  to  keep  its 
writer  from  inflicting  it  on  some  weaker  magaxinc.  [rx>ud  laughter.]  Our  honse  is  rich. 
I  can  afford  to  stand  in  the  brsaoh.  If  it  were  not  for  the  work  we  do  in  bury- 
ing •rtiolas  capable  of  injury,  the  mortality  among  magailnee  would  be  inoalonlabia. 
[Laagfat«>  and  ebMrs.]    Yea,  gentleman,  whea  a  perwm  with  a  flighty  t«mp«mmMit 


90  STORY-TELLING.  (Part  II. 

onnes  in  [laughter]  we  exert  every  nerve  to  get  )>os8e8.sion  of  hii  mantucript  to  prevent 
the  desulation  that  might  otherwise  ensue.  [Cheers  and  jingling  of  glasses.]  8uch  an 
article  might  fall  into  the  hands  of  men  who  would  inadvertently  print  it  [Cheers  and 
cries  of  '  Hear !  hear  I ']     We  lock  it  up  in  a  Htrong  safe." 

The  company,  led  by  the  journalist,  who  blushe<l  again  at  his  awkward  position,  then 
drank  to  the  sagacious  magazine,  while  the  editor  went  on  spriously  to  say  that  he  had 
eight  immense  fire-proof  safes  full  of  stories  and  other  manuscripts  that  had  been  b«>ught 
and  paid  for.  some  of  the  matter  extcndmg  back  many  years.  '*  If  nobody  should  write 
u  wonl  for  the  body  of  our  magazine  for  the  next  ten  yctrs,"  he  said,  **  it  would  appear 
regularly  every  month,  and  I  doubt  if  its  quality  would  be  at  all  impaired."— JV.  Y.  Letter 
to  the  Inter- Ocean. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Use  of  stories  in  argument,  p.  81. 

In  conversation  should  be  only  adjuncts,  p.  81. 

Should  be  adapted  to  place  and  company,  p.  83. 
Should  not  be  allowed  to  weary,  p.  83. 
Should  be  artistically  told,  pp.  84-86. 
Accurate  in  details,  p.  8(5. 
Told  simply,  p.  87. 

CAXJTIONS. 

Do  not  touch  up  an  old  story  as  new,  p.  88. 
Never  retell  a  story  just  told,  p.  88. 
Personal  and  private  allusions,  pp.  88-90. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

Are  the  rules  for  newspaper  writing  (pages  192  to  193)  applicable  to 
story-telling  ?  What  improvement  can  you  suggest  in  the  manner  of 
telling  any  of  the  stories  in  this  or  the  preceding  chapter  ?  Which  of 
the  following  stories  is  the  best  told  ?  Wliat  improvement  can  you  sug- 
gest in  any  of  them  ?  What  changes  would  you  make  in  telling  instead 
of  reading  them  ? 

PERSEVERANCE. 

King  Robert  Bruce,  the  restorer  of  the  Scottish  monarchy,  while  re- 
connoitering  the  army,  lay  down  in  a  barn.  In  the  morning,  still  reclin- 
ing on  his  couch  of  straw,  lie  saw  a  sj^ider  climbing  up  one  of  the  rafters. 
The  insect  fell,  but  immediately  made  a  second  attempt  to  ascend  ;  and 
with  regret  the  hero  saw  the  spider  fall  a  second  time.  It  made  a  third 
unsuccessful  attempt,  and  with  miu-li  interest  and  concern  the  monarch 
saw  the  spider  baffled  in  its  aim  twelve  times.  But  the  thirteenth  at- 
tempt was  successful,  and  the  king,  starting  up,  exclaimed,  "This  in- 
significant spider  has  taught  me  patience,  and  1  Avill  follow  its  example. 
Have  I  not  been  twelve  times  defeated  by  the  enemy's  superior  force  ? 
On  one  more  fight  hangs  the  independence  of  my  country."    In  a  few 


Chap.  VII  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  91 

days  his  anticipations  were  realized  by  his  glorious  victory  at  the  battle 
of  Bauuockburu. 

A  boy's  ambition. 

A  few  days  ago  Justice  of  the  Peace  John  Weber  took  his  little  son 
down  to  Toledo  on  an  excursion.  The  lad  interviewed  the  man  at  the 
wheel  and  gathered  much  information  relative  to  the  business  of  steam- 
boating.  1  resently  his  father  joined  him  on  the  hurricane  deck  and 
asked  him  liow  he  was  enjoying  himself.  "  tirst-rate,"  was  the  enthu- 
siastic reply,  '*  I'm  goin'  to  be  a  steamboat  man,  pajia."  '*  All  right,"  re- 
sponded the  '*  judge,"  "  but  you'll  have  to  study  navigation,  a.'^tronomy, 
and  divers  other  sciences,  in  order  to  become  a  got)d  one."  The  lad  said 
n«>thing  at  the  time,  but  appeared  to  be  revolving  the  difficulties*  of  the 
case  in  his  mind.  Perhaps  half  an  hour  later,  he  remarked  with  much 
gravity,  *•  Papa,  I  guess  1  won't  be  a  steamboat  man.  I'd  rather  be  a 
justice  of  the  peace  ;  you  don't  have  to  know  anything  for  that." — De- 
troit Free  Press. 

Pkokk.'^sou  (to  student)— '*  You  wish  me  to  give  you  a  recommenda- 
tion y  I  don't  remember  ever  having  seen  you  at  any  of  my  lectures." 
Student  -'*  Ah,  ])ro'Vssor,  you  evidently  confound  me  with  another  man 
who  looks  very  much  like  me,  and  who,  it  is  true,  has  never  attended 
your  lectures."  Professor — *' Yes,  yes,  very  likely."  (Gives  him  the 
recommendation. ) 

PEDANTIC  CKITICISM. 

•'And  how  did  (iarrick  speak  the  soliloquy,  last  night?"  "Oh! 
against  all  rule,  my  lord;  most  ungramniatically !  betwixt  the  substan- 
tive and  the  adjective,  wliiith  should  agree  together  in  number,  case, 
and  gender,  he  made  a  breach  thus— stopping  as  if  the  point  wanted 
settling;  and  betwixt  the  nominative  case,  which  your  lordship  knows 
should  govern  the  verb,  he  suspended  his  voice  in  the  epilogue  a  dozen 
times,  thre»^  seconds  and  three-filths,  by  a  stop-watch,  my  lord,  each 
time."  "Admirable  grammarian  !  but  in  sus]>ending  his  voice,  was  the 
sensi*  suspended  likewise  f  did  no  cxpre.ssion  of  attitude  or  countenance 
till  up  the  chasm  f  was  the  eye  silent  y  did  you  narrowly  look  ?  "  "I 
looked  only  at  the  stop-watch,  my  lord."  "Excellent  observer"! — 
Stbrnk. 

ovbrrracued. 

A  wealthy  man  died  suddenly  without  leaving  any  will.  The  widow, 
desirous  of  securing  the  whole  of  the  pro|>erty,  concealed  her  husband's 
death,  and  persuaded  a  ynwr  shoemaker  to  take  his  place.  Accordingly 
he  was  closely  muffled  in  lied,  as  if  he  was  very  sick,  and  a  lawyer  was 
called  in  to  write  the  will.  The  shoemaker  in  a  feeble  voice  biMjueathed 
half  of  the  pn>i>erty  to  the  widow.  "  What  shall  Ik»  done  with  the  re- 
mainder," asked  tiie  lawyer.  "The  remaindt-r,"  replied  he,  "  I  give 
and  bequeath  to  the  puOr  little  shoemaker  across  the  street,  who  has 
been  a  good  neighbor  and  a  deserving  man." 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

AS  TO   BEING   FUNNY, 

The  music  that  can  deepest  reach. 
And  care  all  ill,  is  contial  speech  ; 
Marie  thy  wisdom  with  delight. 
Toy  with  the  bow,  yet  hit  the  white. 
Of  all  wiVs  uses,  the  main  one 
Is  to  live  well  with  who  has  none.— 


Need  of  Relaxation. — lleproached  for  frolicking 
with  his  children,  ^sop  pointed  to  an  unbent  bow,  and 
asked  how  long  it  would  be  an  effective  weapon  if  kept  con- 
stantly strung.  Disraeli  tells  of  the  Jesuits  that  they  had 
a  standing  rule  that  after  two  hours'  study  the  mind  should 
take  some  relaxation,  however  trifling.  Petavius  used  to 
twirl  his  chair  for  five  minutes,  Ilichelieu  jumped  with  his 
servant  to  try  which  could  reach  the  higher  point  on  the 
wall,  and  Samuel  Clarke  used  to  leap  over  chairs  and  tables. 

A  young  prelate  was  sent  with  a  message  to  the  stem  Cardinal 
Mazarin.  By  a  blunder  of  a  servant  he  was  admitted  to  the  august 
presence  unannounced,  and  to  his  consternation  he  suii^rised  the 
great  man  amusing  himself  by  jumping  over  articles  of  furniture. 
For  a  moment  the  embaiTassment  was  mutual,  but  the  young 
courtier  soon  recovered  himself.  "  I  will  bet  your  eminence  two 
gold  pieces  that  I  can  beat  that  jump,"  he  exclaimed,  pulling  off 
his  shoes  as  if  eager  for  the  sport.  The  Cardinal  accepted  the 
challenge,  and  the  two  contested  like  school-boys.  The  young  man 
lost  his  wager,  but  won  the  lasting  favor  of  the  haughtiest  dignitaiy 
in  Europe. 

But  the  relaxation  most  universal  among  men  is  the 
contemplation  of  the  ludicrous. 


Thai-   VII.  ]        THEORIES  OF   THE  LUDICROUS.  93 

There  is  no  more  interesting  spectacle  than  to  see  the  effects  of 
wit  upon  the  different  charactei-s  of  men ;  than  to  observe  it  ex- 
imnding  caution,  relaxing  dignity,  unfreezing  coldness,  teaching 
age,  and  care,  and  i>ain  to  smile,  extorting  reluctant  gleams  of 
pleasure  from  melancholy,  and  charming  even  the  pangs  of  grief. 
It  is  pleasant  to  observe  how  it  penetrates  through  the  coldness 
and  awkwardness  of  society,  gradually  bringing  men  nearer  to- 
gether, and  like  the  combined  force  of  wine  and  oil,  giving  every 
man  a  glad  heart  and  a  shining  countenance.  Genuine  and  inno- 
cent wit  like  this  is  surely  the  flavor  of  the  mind.  Man  could 
direct  his  ways  by  i)lain  reason,  and  suj>i)ort  his  life  l)y  tasteless 
food  ;  but  God  has  given  us  wit,  and  flavor,  and  brightness,  and 
laughter,  and  jjerfumes,  to  enliven  the  days  of  man's  jwlgrimage, 
and  to  charm  his  pained  steps  over  the  burning  marl. — Sydney 
Smttu. 

THEORIES  OF  THE  LUDICROUS. 

Hobbes. — The  lowest,  narrowest  view  of  the  laughable 
is  presented  by  Ilobbes,  and  is  characteristic  of  all  his  phi- 
losophy,    lie  says ; 

Laughter  is  a  sudden  glory  arising  from  a  sudden  conception 
of  some  emiuency  in  ourselves  by  comparison  with  the  inferiority 
of  others  or  our  own  former  infirmity. 

The  insufficiency  of  this  explanation  is  well  pointed  out 
by  ('anipbell,  who  remarks: 

If  you  make  but  a  trifling  alteration  of  the  expression,  so  as  to 
destroy  the  wit  (wliich  often  turns  on  a  very  little  circumstance), 
without  altering  the  real  imjwrt  of  the  sentence  (a  thing  not  only 
possible  but  easy),  you  will  produce  the  same  opinion  and  the 
same  contempt,  and  consequently  will  give  the  same  subject  of 
triumph,  yet  without  the  least  tendency  to  laugh. 

Haven. — Even  Dr.  Haven,  who  points  out  that  it  can- 
not be  simply  the  conception  of  inferiority  in  others  which 
causes  laughter,  since  if  it  were  so  the  proud,  self -conceited, 
and  supercilious  would  abound  in  that  genuine  and  hearty 


94  THEORIES  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  [Part  II. 

merriment  which  in  fact  they  never  experience,  liimself 
accepts  what  llobbes  considers  the  essence  of  tlie  ludicrous 
as  at  least  an  invariable  accompaniment.     Thus: 

The  person  laogliing  is  always,  for  the  time  being,  superior,  in 
his  own  estimation,  at  least,  to  the  person  or  thing  langhed  at. 
It  is  some  awkwai  ilness,  some  blunder,  some  defect  of  body,  mind, 
or  manner,  some  lack  of  sharpness  or  of  sense,  some  perceived  in- 
congruity between  the  true  character  or  position  of  the  individual 
and  his  present  circumstances,  that  excites  our  laughter  and  con- 
stitutes the  ludicrous. 

Hazlitt  goes  further: 

The  ludicrous  is  when  there  is  a  contradiction  between  the  ol>- 
ject  and  our  expectations,  heightened  by  some  deformity  or  incon- 
venience, that  is,  by  being  contrary  to  what  is  customary  or  de- 
sirable ;  as  the  ridiculous,  which  is  the  highest  degree  of  the 
laughable,  is  that  which  is  contrary  not  only  to  custom,  but  to 
sense  and  reason. 

Bain  quotes  from  Quintilian  : 

A  saying  that  causes  laughter  is  generally  based  on  false  reason- 
ing, has  always  something  low  in  it,  is  often  purposely  sunk  into 
buffoonery,  is  never  honor atfle  to  the  subject  of  it. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney  argues  that  laughter  is  notw^holly 
agreeable : 

Delight  we  scarcely  do  but  in  things  that  have  a  conveniency  to 
ourselves  or  to  the  general  nature.  Laughter  almost  ever  cometli 
of  things  most  disproportioned  to  ourselves  and  nature.  Delight 
hath  a  joy  in  it,  either  permanent  or  present ;  laughter  hath  only 
a  scornful  tickling. 

Laughter  Not  Necessarily  Scornful. — This 
last  phrase  at  once  embodies  and  refutes  this  class  of 
theories.  We  know  that  our  merriest  laughter  is  not 
scornful,  and  that  any  theory  that  so  represents  it  must 
be  erroneous. 


*  HM    VII.]  LAUGHTER  NOT  SCORNFUL.  96 

For  instance,  good  Deacon  Robinson,  lieading  a  proces- 
sion of  Sunday-school  scholars  as  they  march  tlirougli  the 
aisles  of  a  crowded  church,  strikes  up,  ''  Hold  the  Fort," 
forgetful  that  the  second  stanza  will  begin : 

"  See  the  mighty  hontM  lulvaiicing,  Satan  leading  on." 

AVhen  that  lino  is  reached  everybody  smiles.  But  the 
smile  is  directed,  not  at  the  deacon,  but  at  the  incongruity  ; 
and  in  proportion  to  the  incongruity  will  be  the  feeling  of 
annisement,  so  that  the  louder  the  laughter  the  more  em- 
phatic will  be  the  testimony  tliat  the  deacon's  life  is  ex- 
emplary. There  is  no  sudden  conception  of  inferiority  in 
the  deacon,  as  Ilobbes  would  have  it.  The  audience  is  not 
rendered  superior  to  him,  even  in  its  own  estimation,  as 
Haven  woidd  niake  us  believe.  The  laughter  is  not  the 
''  scornful  tickling  "  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  but  a  burst  of 
merriment,  in  which  the  deacon  himself  is  probably  the 
heai-tiest  to  join.  When  the  good  brother,  in  a  prayer- 
meeting,  attempted,  in  the  absence  of  the  chorister,  to 
start  the  hymn, 

"  I  loTe  to  steal  a  while  away," 

and  after  beginning  several  times,  "I  love  to  steal ,'* 


"  I  love  to  steal ,"  "  I  love  to  steal ,"  found  it 

impossible  to  carry  on  the  tune,  and  broke  down,  it  was 
very  much  to  his  credit  if  liis  fellow- worshippers  were 
simply  amused  ;  for  there  have  been  men  from  whom  that 
unpremeditated  avowal  woidd  produce  an  awkward  silence. 

Wlien  a  bereaved  widower,  answering  a  condolinpr  friend  who 
asks  if  the  recent  death  was  not  sndden,  replies  donbt  fully,  '*  Well, 
yes,  rather,  for  her ; "  wlien  a  bashfiil  wedding-guest  wishes  the 
bride  many  happy  returns ;  when  a  college  professor,  asked  for 
leave  of  absence  to  attend  the  funeral  of  a  second  cousin,  tells  the 
student  he  supposes  he  shall  have  to  let  him  go,  but  that  he  really 


06  THEORIES  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  [Part  II. 

wishes  it  were  a  nearer  relative ;  when  typographical  errors  give 
us  a  list  of  awards  at  the  Paris  Exposition,  issued  *'  by  order  of 
his  Royal  Highness,  the  Prince  of  Males  ;  **  report  that  a  cow  upon 
the  railway  track  was  literaUy  cut  into  calves,  and  transform  a  fa- 
miliar sentence  in  the  Prayer-Book  from  "  We  shall  all  be  changed 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  "  into  *  *  We  shall  aU  be  hanged  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye," — in  all  these  and  thousands  of  similar  instances 
there  is  in  our  laughter  no  ingredient  of  contempt.  We  simply 
perceive  an  incongruity  that  provokes  our  merriment,  and  tliat 
meniment  is  thoroughly  good-natured.  Those  who  see  in  such  in- 
stances a  disparagement  of  the  individual,  fail  to  distinguish  be- 
tween the  absurd  in  conception  and  the  absurd  in  reality. 

Does  the  pupil  who  in  the  expression,  "Mrs.  Caudle's  husband,** 
pai-ses  Mrs.  Caudle's  "  as  a  proper  feminine  noun,  third,  singular, 
possessive,  and  governed  by  husband,"  suppose  that  Mra.  Caudle 
herself  was  governed  by  her  husband  ?  Not  if  he  has  been  taught 
to  distinguish  between  a  grammatical  relation  of  two  words  and  a 
real  relation  of  the  two  objects  that  the  words  represent.  No  more 
should  he  fail  to  see  that  it  is  one  thing  to  laugh  at  the  absurdity 
of  associating  a  lidiculous  idea  with  an  individual  and  quite 
another  to  laugh  at  the  individual  as  himself  ridiculous. 

The  keenest  thrusts  are  those  of  the  tongue.  The 
bitterest  enmity  may  wreak  itself  in  a  jest.  But  sarcasm, 
irony,  contempt,  are  not  essential  to  the  ludicrous.  The 
truly  funny  is  impersonal.  "To  resolve  laughter  into 
an  expression  of  contempt,''  says  Coleridge,  "  is  con- 
trary to  fact,  and  laughable  enough."  A  later  writer 
tells  us : 

That  a  gratified  sense  of  superiority  is  at  the  root  of  barbarous 
laughter  may  be  at  least  half  the  ti-uth.  But  there  is  a  loving 
laughter  in  which  the  only  recognized  superiority  is  that  of  the 
ideal  self,  the  God  within,  holding  the  mirror  and  the  scourge  for 
our  own  pettiness,  as  well  as  our  neighbor's. 

We  may  go  further  than  this.  Much  that  is  ludicrous 
is  sheer  nonsense.    De  Quincey  tells  us  how  Charles  Lamb 


Chap.  VII. ]  HERBERT   SPENCER'S   THEORY.  97 

used  to  visit  liiin,  ami  j<»iii  witli  him  in  laughter  over  the 
silliest  (jonceits.     J^eigh  Hunt  says: 

"  The  difference  between  nonsense  not  worth  talking 
and  nonsense  worth  it  is  simply  this :  the  former  is  a  re- 
sult of  want  of  ideas  ;  the  latter  of  a  superabundance  of 
them/' 

He  adds  that  nonsense,  in  the  good  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  very 
sensible  thing  in  its  season,  and  is  confounded  with  the  other  only 
by  people  of  a  shallow  graWty  who  cannot  afford  to  joke.  "  These 
gentlemen,  he  says,  live  upon  credit,  and  would  not  have  it  in- 
quired into.  They  are  grave,  not  because  they  see  or  feel  the  con- 
ti-ust  of  mirth,  for  then  they  would  feel  the  mirth  itself ;  but  be- 
cause graWty  is  their  safest  mode  of  behavior.  They  must  keep 
their  minds  sitting  still,  because  they  ai-e  incapable  of  a  motion  that 
lA  not  awkward.  They  are  waxen  images  among  the  living,  the  de- 
ception is  undone  if  they  stir  ;  or  hollow  vessels  covered  up, 
which  may  be  taken  for  full  onen ;  the  collision  of  wit  jai-s  against 
them,  and  strikes  out  against  their  hoUowness." 

Nonsense  talked  by  men  of  wit  and  understanding  in  the  hour 
of  relaxation  is  of  the  very  finest  essence  of  conv-iviality,  and  a 
treat  delicious  to  those  who  have  the  sense  to  comprehend  it ;  but 
it  implies  a  trust  in  the  company  not  always  to  be  risked. — Dis- 

RAEIJ. 

Herbert  Spencer. — A  wholly  different  account  of 
laughter  is  given  by  Mr.  SjuMicer.  He  starts  with  the  as- 
sumption that  a  given  /mionnt  of  feeling  nmst  somewhere 
generate  an  equivalent  manifestation  of  force,  and  that  if 
of  the  channels  the  force  would  naturally  take,  one  or 
more  are  closed,  more  most  be  taken  by  the  other  chan- 
nels. He  goes  on  to  show  that  the  muscular  action  of 
laughter  has  this  j>eculiarity,  that  it  is  purposeless.  The 
conti-actions  of  the  muscles  are  quasi-convulsive,  and  result 
simply  from  an  uncontrollable  discharge  of  energy  that 
takes  the  most  familiar  paths,  first  through  the  organs  of 
speech,  producing  a   smile;   and,  if  that  proves  insuffi- 


dS  THEORIES  OF  TFTE  LUDICROUS.  [Part  IF. 

cient,  through  the  organs  of  respiration,  producing  laugh- 
ter. 

Now,  why  is  our  nervous  energy  prompted  to  escape  through 
these  paths  upon  certain  perceptions  of  incongruity  ? 

**  It  U  an  inrafflcient  explanation  that  in  these  cases  laughter  In  a  result  from  the 
pleasure  we  take  in  ewaping  from  the  restraint  of  grave  feelings.  That  this  is  a  part 
cause  Is  true.  DoubtlesM  very  often,  as  Mr.  Bain  says,  '  it  is  the  coerced  form  of  serious- 
ness without  the  reality  that  gives  us  that  stiff  position  from  which  a  contact  with  trivial- 
ity or  vulgarity  relieves  us  to  our  uproiirious  delight.'  And  in  so  f sir  as  mirth  is  caused 
by  the  gn«h  of  agreeable  feeling  that  fc^ows  the  cesaafeion  of  mental  strain  it  further  il- 
lustrates the  general  principle  above  set  forth. 

*'  But  no  explanation  is  thus  afforded  of  the  mirth  which  ensues  when  the  short  silence 
between  the  andante  and  allegro  of  one  of  Beethoven's  symphonies  is  broken  by  a  loud 
sneeze.  In  this  and  ho^ts  of  like  cases  the  mental  tension  is  not  coeroe«t.  but  spontaneous 
— not  disagreeable,  but  agreeable ;  and  the  coming  impressions  to  which  the  attention  is 
directed  promise  a  grrattfication  which  few  if  any  desire  to  escape.  Hence,  when  the  un- 
lucky sneeze  occurs,  it  cannot  be  that  the  laughter  of  the  audience  is  due  simply  to  the 
release  from  an  irkso:iie  attitude  of  mind  ;  some  other  cause  must  be  soughL 

"This  cAUso  we  shall  arrive  at  by  carrjing  our  analysis  a  step  farther.  We  have  but 
to  consider  the  qti  mtity  of  feeling  that  exists  under  such  cinnmstances  and  then  to  ask 
what  are  the  conditions  that  determine  itti  «1:»  hiirpr,  to  at  once  reach  a  solntion. 

"  Take  a  case.  You  are  sitting  in  a  theatre  absorbtvl  iii  the  progress  of  an  interesting 
drama.  Some  climax  has  been  reached  which  arouses  your  sympiithies— say  a  reconcilia- 
tion between  the  hero  and  heroine  after  a  long  and  painful  misunderstanding.  The  feel- 
ings excited  by  this  scene  arc  not  of  a  kind  from  which  you  seek  relief,  bnt  are,  on  the 
contrary,  a  relief  from  the  painful  feelings  with  which  you  have  witnessed  the  previous 
estrangement.  Moreover,  the  sentiments  these  fictitious  personage-,  have  for  the  moment 
inspired  you  with  are  not  such  as  wuuld  lead  you  to  rejoice  in  any  indignity  offered  to 
them,  but  rather  such  as  would  make  yon  resent  the  indignity. 

' '  And  now,  while  you  are  contemplating  the  reconciliation  with  a  pleasurable  sympathy 
there  appears  from  behind  the  scenes  a  tame  kid,  which,  htving  stared  at  the  audience, 
walks  up  to  the  lovers  and  sniffs  at  them.  You  cannot  help  joining  in  the  roar  which 
greets  this  contre'emps  Inexplicable  as  is  this  irrasistible  burst  on  the  hypothesis  of  a 
pleasure  from  relative  increase  of  self-impcrtance  when  witnessing  the  humiliation  of 
others,  it  is  readily  explicable  if  we  consifier  what  in  such  a  case  must  become  of  the  feel- 
ing that  existed  at  the  time  the  incongruity  arose. 

"  A  large  mass  of  emotion  had  been  produced,  or.  to  sixsak  in  physiolc^cal  language, 
a  large  portion  of  the  nervous  system  was  in  a  state  of  tension.  There  was  also  great 
expectation  with  regard  to  the  further  evolution  of  the  scene — a  quantity  of  vague,  nas- 
cent thought  and  emotion,  into  which  the  existing  quantity  of  thought  and  emotion  was 
abjut  to  pass. 

*•  Had  there  been  no  interruption,  the  body  of  new  ideas  and  feelings  next  excited 
would  have  snfficed  to  absorb  the  whole  of  the  liberated  nervous  energy.  But  now  this 
large  amount  of  nervous  energy,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  expend  itself  in  producing  an 
equivalent  amount  of  the  new  thoughts  and  emotions,  is  suddenly  checked  in  its  flow. 
The  channels  along  which  the  discharge  was  about  to  take  place  are  suddenly  closed.  The 
new  channel  opened — that  afforded  by  the  api^earance  and  proceedings  of  the  kid — is  a 
small  one ;  the  ideas  and  feelings  suggested  are  not  numerous  and  massive  enough  to 


Chap.  VII. J      INADEQUACY  OF  MR.  SPENCER'S  THEORY.      99 

carry  off  the  ncrvoun  cnerxy  to  bo  ex(>cnded.  The  excess  inuKt  therefore  diHcharge  itself 
in  some  other  directions ;  and  in  the  way  already  explained  there  results  an  efflux 
through  motor  nerves  to  various  classes  of  mascles,  protlucing  the  half-convulsive  motions 
we  call  laughter." 

Mr.  Darwin  quotes  this  explanation,  and  thus  corrobor- 
ates it  : 

"  An  observation  bearing  on  this  point  was  made  by  a  correspondent  dnring  the  recent 
siege  of  Pari^  namely,  that  the  (;erman  soldiers,  after  strong  excitement  from  exposure 
to  extreme  danger,  were  |)urtieulnrly  apt  to  burst  into  loud  laughter  at  the  sniallest  joke. 
So  again  when  young  children  are  just  b«>ginning  to  cry  an  unexpected  event  will  some* 
times  suddenly  tnm  their  crying  into  laughter,  which  apparently  aerves  equally  well  to 
expend  their  surplus  t-neri^y." 

The  difficulty  with  Mr.  Spencer's  theory  is  that  it 
accounts  for  everything  except  just  what  it  purports  to  ex- 
plain. AVhat  we  call  laughter  is  not  the  half -convulsive 
motions.  These  are  but  the  expression  of  laughter.  To 
draw  out  the  muscles  of  the  face  into  a  forced  smile  is  tire- 
some, and  becomes  painful  if  continued. 

Still  more  tiresome  and  painful  is  the  muscular  motion  of  a 
hearty  laugh.     Says  Mr.  Darwin  : 

During  excessive  laughter  the  whole  hody  is  thrown  backward 
and  shakes,  or  is  almost  convulsed  ;  the  respiration  is  much  dis- 
turbed, the  hea«l  and  face  become  gorged  with  blood  xsith  the 
veins  distende<l,  and  the  orbicular  muscles  are  spasmodically  con- 
tracted in  onler  to  protect  the  eyes.  Hence,  as  formerly  remarked, 
it  is  scarcely  jxissible  to  jKiint  out  any  difference  between  the  tear- 
stained  face  of  a  jwrson  after  a  paroxysm  of  excessive  laughter 
and  after  a  crying  fit.  It  is  probably  due  to  the  close  similarity 
of  the  s])aHmodic  movements  caused  by  these  >\'idely  different 
©motions  that  hysteric  ])er8ons  alternately  laugh  and  cry  with 
violence,  and  that  young  children  pass  suddenly  from  one  to  the 
other  state. 

Another  scientist  says : 

No  doubt  the  sound  of  laughter  is  one  of  the  very  earliest  and 
oddest  of  human  cries.  It  is  certainly  an  astonishing  sountl,  and 
one  that  is  very  difficult  to  listen  to  and  analyze  without  imgudice, 
and  a  remote  feeling  of  sympathy.  Tlie  best  way  to  study  it  that  I 
know  is  to  seize  on  opportunities  when  one  is  being  constantly  in< 


100  THEORIES  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  [Part  II. 

terrupted  in  reading  a  serious  book  by  shouts  of  laughter  from  a 
imrty  of  strangers  ;  one  can  then  note  the  curious  variety  of  spas- 
modic sounds  produced,  and  maivel  that  men  in  the  midst  of  ra- 
tional conversation  should  be  compelled  by  necessity  to  break  off 
suddenly  their  use  of  language  and  find  relief  and  enjoyment  in 
the  utterance  of  perfectly  inarticulate  and  animal  howls  like  those 
of  the  Long-armed  Gibbon. 

We  all  know  what  it  is  to  laugh  till  we  ache ;  till  we 
ai*e  compelled  to  beg  our  cx)mpanion  to  desist  from  his 
fuiiTiy  stories,  and  forcibly  to  wrest  our  mind  from  a  con- 
templation it  too  keenly  enjoys,  lest  we  laugh  ourselves  to 
death. 

The  phrase  is  not  extrayagant.  People  do  laugh  themselves  to 
death.  On  December  13, 1878,  Joshua  Walker,  a  resjjectablo  col- 
ored man  living  in  the  city  of  Providence,  undertook  to  make  some 
brine  for  pickling  pork,  and  went  to  the  cupboaid  for  salt.  Ho 
mistook  the  article,  and  his  vdlo  Bosa,  twenty  years  old  and  re- 
cently happily  married,  found  him  salting  the  pork  with  granu- 
lated sugar.  She  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh  ;  she  laughed,  and 
laughed,  and  kept  on  laughing.  Her  husband  became  alanned 
and  ran  for  assistance,  but  in  vain.  The  woman  literally  laughed 
herself  to  death.  Such  instances  are  not  frequent,  but  a  year's 
file  of  any  New  York  daily  will  report  at  least  one  or  two.  Many 
I)eople  are  in  greater  danger  of  laughing  themselves  to  death  than 
of  being  struck  by  lightning. 

If  Mr.  Spencer's  theory  of  laughter  were  adequate, 
therefore,  laughter  would  be  a  painful  experience,  to  be 
avoided,  like  a  severe  cold  or  the  fever  and  ague.  But, 
as  we  have  seen,  he  describes  everything  but  the  laughter, 
lie  tells  us  what  are  the  motions  that  accompany  laughter, 
and  why  we  laugh  with  certain  muscles,  instead  of  swing- 
ing our  arms  or  turning  a  somersault.  But  in  what  the 
amusement  of  laughter  consists,  and  why  we  so  enjoy  it 
that  in  this  amusement  we  forget  the  discomfort  of  the 
accompanying  motions,  he  wholly  ignores. 


Chap.  VII.]      A  THEORY  "AS  GOOD  AS  TAN  'BE."  rlOl 

Aristotle. — From  these  and  many  other  theories  we 
go  back  to  the  definition  made  by  Aristotle,  whicli  Coler- 
idge declares  ''  as  good  as  can  be."  A  definition  which 
twenty-two  centuries  cannot  improve  is  worth  attention. 

"  The  Ivdicrous  arises,^''  says  Aristotle,  '"''froni  aurjnnse 
tit  perceiving  sometfdiig  out  of  its  usual  place  when  the 
finusualness  is  not  acconvpanied  hj  a  sense  of  danger ^ 
Such  surprise  is  always  pleasurable ;  and  it  is  observed 
that  surprise  accompanied  by  a  sense  of  danger  becomes 
tragic. 

Here,  tlien,  are  the  two  elements  of  the  ludicrous — the 
incongruous  and  the  inconvenient.  Between  the  two  is  a 
poise,  and  the  balance  differs  with  every  mind.  What 
annoys  one  amuses  another.  Even  to  the  same  mind  an- 
noyances may  bo  repeated  till  they  become  amusing,  and 
one  rather  hopes  they  will  accunmlate  in  order  to  complete 
the  joke.  Sam  AVeller  and  Mark  Tapley  were  too  ab- 
sorbed in  the  incongruous  to  be  disturbed  by  the  incon- 
venient. 

A  hoy  was  ctiffod,  r.nd  8lapi>ecl,  and  Hhaken,  and  pounded  for 
Rnow-balHng  an  ira-sciblo  old  farmer.  The  boy  langhed.  The 
farmer  cuffed  and  slapped  and  shook  and  ponnded  harder.  The 
boy  langhod  Idndor.  rinally  llio  farnior  became  exhausted,  and 
exclaimed  : 

"  Boy,  what  are  you  hiughing  at  ?  " 

••  Why,  at  the  joke  on  you  :    I  ain't  the  boy  !  ** 

The  same  difference  is  observed  in  the  effect  on  us  of  the  expe- 
rience of  others.  For  instance,  a  man  in  Fulton  laid  his  finger  on 
the  table  in  front  of  a  buzz-saw  to  feel  the  motion  of  the  air.  In 
the  rapid  revolution  of  the  saw  he  did  not  perceive  how  far  the 
teeth  extended,  and  his  finger  \*'as  instantly  cut  off.  Even  his  pain 
was  lost  in  astonishment,  and  the  foreman  approached  to  ask 
how  it  happone<1. 

•' Wliy,  I  just  laid  my  finger  down  so,"  he  explained  ;  and  whiz 
went  the  saw  through  a  second  finger. 


'•  -  THEORIES  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  [Part  II. 

Now,  that  story  will  be  funny  or  tragic  according  to  the  physical 
sympathy  of  the  pei-son  who  hears  it.  It  appeared  in  the  funny 
columns  of  the  newspapers ;  but  it  was  read  by  many  who 
have  a  Donatello's  shrinking  from  the  sight  or  even  the  thought 
of  physical  suffering,  in  whom  the  recital  of  the  story  made  the 
flesh  creep. 

Nothing  is  more  to  he  rernevibered  in  conversation  than 
that  the  ludicrous  is  not  an  absolute  relation^  hut  depends 
entirely  upon  the  mind  of  ilie  person  perceimng  tJve  incon- 
gruity. Tlie  merry  jokes  of  the  dissecting-room  would 
cost  many  a  man  his  dinner  and  many  a  woman  her  con- 
sciousness. Hence  the  would-be  wit  is  often  a  terror  to 
society.  Where  he  sees  only  the  incongruous  he  forces 
upon  his  hearers  the  vulgar,  the  disgusting,  the  terrible. 

.  Wit  generally  succeeds  more  from  being  happily  addressed 
than  from  its  native  ixjignaucy.  A  jest  calculated  to  spread  at  a 
gaming  table  may  be  received  with  i>erfect  indifference  should  it 
happen  to  drop  into  a  mackerel-boat.  — GoiiDSMiTH. 

Those  who  have  seen  the  play  of  "Jane  Shore"  will  remember 
what  a  huge  joke  it  seemed  to  her  keepers  to  hurl  the  poor  frozen, 
starving  creature  upon  her  feet  again,  and  drive  her  on  into  the 
pitiless  storm.  Well  is  it  for  any  of  us  if  we  have  never  laughed 
at  the  misery  of  others  because  we  lacked  the  sympathy  to  per- 
ceive it. 

A  lady  attired  in  profound  crape  entered  a  car  and  abandoned 
herself  to  melancholy.  A  woman  behind  her,  with  red  nose,  blue 
veil  and  green  spectacles,  leaned  forward  and  inquired : 

'*  Lost  somebody  ?  " 

A  barely  perceptible  nod  answered  the  question  without  inviting 
another,  but  the  inquisition  proceeded. 

''Father?" 

A  shake. 

"  Brother  ?  " 

A  shake. 

**  Husband?" 

A  nod. 


Chap.  VII. J     THE  RELATION  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  103 

"  Church  member  ?  " 
A  nod. 

"  Life  insured  ?  ** 
A  nod. 

••  Then  what  are  you  moping  about  ?  He's  all  right,  and  so  are 
you." 

Sacred  Subjects  are  never  to  be  trifled  with.  Kor 
will  the  gentleiiniii  restrict  this  reserve  to  those  jBubjects 
that  are  sacred  to  himself.  To  find  matter  for  jesting  in 
any  sincere  feeling,  whether  of  religion  or  of  affection  or 
of  principle,  betokens  a  selfish  heart  and  a  shallow  intel- 
lect. 

Mr.  Weiss,  in  his  "Wit,  Humor,  and  Shakspere,"  frequently 
blunders  here.  The  following  paragraph  has  almost  every  literary 
fault : 

IVrhapK  the  purcdt  ioRtanoc  of  thorotighly  French  wit  is  to  be  credited  to  Mr.  Emer- 
son. An  amiable  rustic  once  heard  him  lecture,  but  a)uld  make  nothing  of  it.  Tum- 
Inif  to  R  friend,  he  said:  *'Darn  it!  I'd  like  to  know  what  Emcnwm  thinks  about 
(iod.  I  iKt  I'll  aKk  him."  Ho  did,  when  Mr.  Emcniou  came  down  the  ainle.  "God," 
replied  he,  "is  the  x  of  algebr«," — that  is,  the  unknown  (luanlity  in  every  problem. 
Nothing  ooold  bo  more  admintble.— P.  StSw 

The  sense  of  the  Immorous  is  as  incompatible  with  tenderness 
and  respect  as  with  comiwussion.  No  man  would  laugh  to  see  a 
little  child  full  ;  and  ho  would  bo  shocked  to  see  such  an  aivident 
happen  to  an  old  woman,  or  to  his  father.  It  is  a  beautiful  thing 
to  obKorvc  the  boundaries  which  nature  has  affixed  to  the  ridicu- 
Ions,  and  to  notice  how  soon  it  is  swallowed  up  by  the  more  illus- 
trious feelings  of  our  minds.  Wliere  is  the  heart  so  hard  tliat 
could  l>ear  to  see  the  awkward  resources  and  -contrivances  of  the 
poor  turned  into  ridicule  ?  Wlio  could  laugh  at  the  fractured, 
mined  body  of  a  soldier?  Who  is  so  wicked  as  to  amuse  himself 
with  the  infirmities  of  extreme  old  age?  or  to  f!nd  subject  for  hu- 
mor in  the  weakness  of  a  perishing,  diasolring  Ixvly  ?  Wlio  is  thet© 
that  does  not  feel  himself  dis]io«e<l  to  overlook  the  little  peculiari- 
ties of  the  tmly  great  and  \*'is«\  and  to  throw  a  veil  over  that  ridi- 
enlo  which  they  have  redeemed  by  the  magnitude  of  their  talents 
and  the  splendor  of  their  virtues  ?  Who  ever  thinks  of  tnming  into 


104  WHY  THE  LUDICROUS  GIVES  PLEASURE.     [Part  IL 

ridicule  our  great  and  ardent  hope  of  a  world  to  come  ?  "^Tienever 
the  man  of  humor  meddles  with  these  things  he  is  astonished  to 
find  that  in  all  the  great  feelings  of  their  nature  the  mass  of  man- 
kind always  think  and  act  aright ;  that  they  are  ready  enough  to 
laugh,  but  that  they  are  quite  as  ready  to  drive  away  with  indig- 
nation and  contempt  the  light  fool  who  comes  with  the  feather  of 
wit  to  crumble  the  bulwarks  of  truth  and  to  beat  down  the  Tem- 
ples of  God. — Stdnbt  Smtth. 

*WHY   THE  LUDICROUS  GIVES  PLEASURE. 

The  Theory  of  Pleasure. — Among  the  vexed 
questions  of  philosophy  none  is  more  interesting  than  the 
theory  of  pleasure.  Plato  insisted  that  pleasure  was  sim- 
ply a  release  from  pain,  and  could  exist  only  after  the  pain 
had  caused  annoyance.  To  say  that  tlie  act  which  typifies 
his  theory  is  scratching  is  to  use  a  figure  bold  enough  to  be 
remembered,  and  a  word  which  he  himself  frequently  em- 
ployed. 

Opposed  to  this  gloomy  view  of  life  is  the  theory  pro- 
pounded by  Aristotle,  which  finds  its  ablest  modem  expo- 
nent in  Sir  William  Hamilton.  "  Pleasure,"  he  says,  "  is 
the  reflex  of  the  spontaneous  and  unimpeded  exertion  of  a 
power  of  wliose  energy  we  are  conscious  ;  pain  a  reflex  of 
the  overstrained  or  repressed  exertion  of  such  a  power." 
Elsewhere  he  says  that  "  Pleasure  is  nothing  but  the  con- 
comitant or  reflex  of  the  unenforced  and  unimpeded  en- 
ergy of  a  faculty  or  habit,  the  degree  of  pleasure  being 
always  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  such  energy." 

Leibnitz  says  that  systems  of  philosophy  are  equally  right  in 
what  they  assert  and  wrong  in  what  they  deny.  The  theories  of 
Kant  and  of  Hamilton,  diverse  as  they  seem,  yet  agree  in  this— that 
pleasure  comes  from  action.  '*  Things  won  are  done,"  says  Cres- 
sida  :   **  joy  lies  in  the  doing." 

This  is  true  even  of  the  *'  pure  ]ileasures  "  of  Plato,  which  Ham- 
ilton ignores  ;  "  those  from  beautiful  colors,  and  from  figm-es,  and 


Chap.  VII.]        PBRCEPTION  OF   THE  LUDICROUS.  105 

most  of  those  from  odors,  and  those  from  sounds,  and  any  objects 
whose  absence  is  unfelt  and  painless,  while  their  presence  is  sen- 
sible and  productive  of  pleasure  ;  "  '*  which,"  to  quote  from  Phile- 
bus,  "are  eternally  and  intrinsically  beautiful  and  attended  with 
pleasures  of  their  own  to  which  those  of  scratching  have  no  resem- 
blance." 

Though  there  be  justice  in  Stuart  Mill's  remark  that  Hamilton's 
tlotinition  of  pleasure  throws  no  new  light  upon  it,  and  in  the 
claim  of  Mr.  Dallas  that  in  "  pure  jjleasure  "  the  main  source  of 
enjoyment  is  less  in  the  consciousness  of  energy  than  in  the  **  con- 
ceit of  special  agreement  in  fitness :  "  even  if  we  accept  Mr.  Dal- 
las's theory  of  exceeding  pleasure,  **  that  as  the  joy  of  life  waxes 
the  consciousness  of  life  wanes  ;  that  as  consciousness  rises  pleas- 
ure sets ;  that  we  recognize  the  presence  of  our  bliss  only  when 
the  bliss  begins  to  fatle,  and  that  the  heaven  of  our  existence  be- 
gins when  the  consciousness  of  it  passes  away,"  the  pleasure  still 
results  from  activities,  and  the  only  question  is  as  to  how  far  these 
activities  are  within  the  sphere  of  consciousness. 

Perception  of  the  Ludicrous. — As  the  ludi- 
crous arises  from  suddenly  perceiving  an  incongruity,  it  is 
manifest  that  the  pleasure  arises  from  gratification  at  the 
possession  and  the  exercise  of  this  perception. 

Not  Univei'8(d. — The  possession  of  a  humorous  percep- 
tion is  by  no  means  universal,  and  its  most  remarkable 
property  is,  that  it  is  inborn.  "  It  requires  a  surgical  op- 
eration to  get  a  joke  well  into  a  Scotch  understanding," 
says  Sydney  Smith.  "  It  is  not  in  the  power  of  every  one 
to  taste  humor,  however  he  may  wish  it,"  says  Laurence 
StiM  lie,  ''  it  is  the  gift  of  God." 

\Vt'  iu«'  all  familiar  with  the  helpless  look  of  one  who  lacks  per- 
ception of  the  ludicrous,  and  who  peers  into  our  faces  to  see 
whether  or  not  wliat  was  said  last  is  a  joke  he  ought  to  laugh  at. 

Nothing  annoys  one  more  than  to  observe  the  uttt»r  want  of 
l>erception  of  a  joke  in  some  minds.  Miss  Jackson  calletl,  the 
other  day,  and  siH)ko  of  the  op]>rossive  heat  of  last  wet»k.  **  Heat, 
madam,"  1  said,  "  it  was  so  dreadful  here  that  I  found  nothing 


IOC  WHY  THE  LUDlCliOUS  GIVES  PLEASURE.     [Part  II 

left  for  it  but  to  take  oflf  my  flesh  and  sit  iu  my  bones."  '*  Take  oil 
your  flesh  and  sit  in  your  bones,  sir  ?  Oh,  Mr.  Smith,  how  could 
you  do  that?"  "Nothing  more  easy,  madam;  come  and  see  me 
next  time."  But  she  ordered  her  carriage,  and  evidently  thought 
it  a  very  unorthodox  proceeding. — Sydney  Smith. 

A  college  profefwor,  lecturing  on  tlie  eflect  of  the  wind  in  West- 
ern forests,  remarked  :  '^In  travelling  along  the  road  I  sometimes 
found  the  logs  bound  and  twisted  together  to  such  an  extent  that 
a  mule  could  not  climb  over  them,  so  I  went  round." 

"John,"  said  a  gentleman  to  his  new  servant,  **did  you  take 
that  note  to  Mr.  Jones  ?'* 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  it  didn't  do  him  any  good  I  ** 

**  How  do  you  know  that  ?  '* 

'*  Because  he  can't  read.'* 

"  Mr.  Jones  can't  read  ?    Why,  what  do  you  mean,  John  ?  " 

*'  \Miy,  he's  blind,  blind  a.s  a  bat.  While  I  mus  in  the  room  he 
asked  me  three  times  where  was  my  hat,  and  there  it  was  right  on 
my  head  in  plain  sight  all  the  time." 

The  works  of  many  standard  authors  abound  in  passages  where 
through  lack  of  this  perception  grave  issue  is  taken  with  state- 
ments, the  only  point  of  which  is  their  humor.  Thus,  in  a  noted 
rhetoric  : 

But  of  all  kinds  the  woret  is  thnt  wherein  the  words,  when  constmed,  are  carnble  of 
no  meaning  at  all.  Such  an  expression  is  the  following:  "There  wore  seven  ladies  in 
the  contpany,  every  one  prettier  than  another,"  by  which  it  is  intended,  I  suppose,  to  in- 
dicate that  they  were  all  very  pretty.  One  prettier  implies  that  there  is  another  less 
pretty,  but  where  every  one  is  prettier  there  can  be  none  leaa,  and  consequently  none 
more  pretty.     Such  trash  is  the  disgrace  of  our  tongue. — Campbelx.. 

In  a  play  of  Douglas  Jerrold  an  old  sailor,  attempting  to  snatch 
a  kiss,  gets  a  box  on  the  ear.  **  Just  my  luck,"  he  exclaims  ;  '*  al- 
ways wrecked  on  the  coral  reefs."  TMien  the  manager  heard  the 
play  read  he  could  see  no  point  to  this  remark,  and  insisted  that  it 
should  be  struck  out. 

Not  to  he  Acquired. — Xor  can  a  sense  of  the  humorous 
be  acquired.  It  must  be  felt,  and  instantly,  or  it  vanishes. 
The  moment  you  seek  to  ii.K  it,  to  study  it,  to  analyze  it, 
the  virtue  has  departed.  Tliough  you  should  resolve  into 
its  elements  every  funny  thing  that  had  ever  liappened 


Chap.  VII.  1        PERCEPTION  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  107 

you  might  still  be   blind  to   the  next  that  occurred,  for 
tlie  humorous  is  mercurial  in  its  manifestations. 

Sometimes  it  lieth  in  jjat  allusion  to  a  known  story,  oi  iu  a  sea- 
sonable upplicution  of  a  trivial  saying,  or  in  forging  an  apposite 
tale  ;  sometimes  it  playeth  iu  words  and  phrases,  taking  advan- 
tage from  the  ambiguity  of  their  sense  or  the  aflinity  of  their 
sound  ;  sometimes  it  is  \sTapped  up  in  a  dress  of  humorous  ex- 
pression ;  sometimes  it  lurketh  under  an  odd  similitude  ;  some- 
times it  is  lodged  in  a  sly  question,  in  a  smart  answer,  in  a  quirkisli 
reason,  in  cunningly  diverting  or  cleverly  retorting  an  objection  ; 
sometimes  it  is  concealed  in  a  bold  scheme  of  speech,  in  a  tart 
irony,  in  a  stai'tling  metaphor,  iu  a  plausible  reconciling  of  contra- 
dictions, or  in  acute  nonsense ;  sometimes  a  scenical  representa- 
tion of  iHji-sons  or  things,  a  counterfeit  speech,  a  mimical  look  or 
gesture  passeth  for  it ;  sometimes  an  aflected  simplicity,  sometimes 
a  presumptuous  bhmtness  giveth  it  being ;  sometimes  it  riseth 
only  upon  a  lucky  hitting  upon  what  is  strange  ;  sometimes  from 
a  crafty  wresting  obvious  matter  to  the  puqiose.  Often  it  consist- 
eth  in  one  hardly  knows  what,  and  springeth  up  one  can  hardly 
tell  how,  being  answemble  to  the  numberless  rovings  of  fancy  and 
windings  of  language. — Babrow. 

Value  not  Factitious. — It  is  largely  because  this  sense 
of  humor  is  unattainable  that  its  possession  gives  such 
pleasure.  We  value  most  what  is  hardest  to  get.  l^ut 
the  value  of  a  sense  of  humor  is  by  no  means  factitious. 

Mirth  is  a.s  innate  in  the  mind  as  any  other  original  faculty. 
The  absence  of  it,  in  individuals  or  in  communities,  is  a  defect ; 
for  there  are  various  forms  of  imposture  which  wit,  and  wit  alone, 
can  exjiose  and  pimish.  Without  a  well-trained  capacity  to  per- 
<eive  the  ludicrous,  the  lu»alth  suffers,  both  of  the  body  and  the 
mind,  seriousness  dwindles  into  asceticism,  sobriety  degenerates 
into  bigotry,  and  the  natural  order  of  things  gives  way  to  the 
vagaries  of  a  distemi^red  imagination. — ^Wmhtle. 

Instances  of  this  kind  Urc  ])erlia])H  most  common  and  most  la- 
mentable in  those  who  have  to  do  with  sacred  subjocts.  Ozanam, 
the  mathematician,  said  it  was  for  the  SorlK>nne  to  discuss,  for  tho 


108  WHY  THE  LUDICROUS  GIVES  PLEASURE.    [Paet  XL 

Pope  to  decide,  and  for  the  mathematician  to  go  to  heaven  in  a 
perpendicuhii*  line.  In  one  of  the  mysteries  enacted  in  Germany, 
toward  the  end  of  the  last  century,  the  Creator  of  the  world  was 
represented  a*  an  old  gentleman  in  a  wig,  who  groped  about  in 
the  dark,  and  after  running  his  head  against  the  posts  exclaimed 
in  utter  peevishness,  ♦*  Let  there  be  light,"  and  there  was  light— 
the  light  of  a  tallow  candle. 

So  in  a  grave  sermon,  Francis  Meres  (the  same  to  whom  we  are 
indebted  for  the  earliest  critical  mention  of  Sliakspere)  made  out 
addition  an  1  multiplication  to  be  God's  arithmetic,  because  when 
he  had  made  Adam  and  Eve  he  caused  them  to  increase  and  multi- 
ply, but  subtraction  and  diWsion  to  be  the  devil's  arithmetic,  be- 
cause the  arch  enemy  subtracted  Delilah  from  Samson  and  divided 
Michal  from  David.  From  absurdities  like  these  the  slightest 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  would  protect  a  reverent  mind. 

**  In  every  condition  of  man  it  is  play,  and  i)lay  alone,  that  makes 
him  complete,"  says  Schiller.  ♦'  Humor  is  the  harmony  of  the 
heart,"  says  Douglas  Jerrold.  "  Even  genius  and  philanthropy,'* 
to  quote  again  from  Whipple,  •*  are  incomplete  without  they  are 
accompanied  by  some  sense  of  the  ludicrous,  for  an  extreme  sen- 
sitiveness to  the  evil  and  misery  of  society  becomes  a  madden- 
ing torture  if  not  modified  by  a  feeling  of  the  humorous,  and 
urges  its  subjects  into  morbid  exaggeration  of  life's  dark 
side." 

Not  to  he  Obtruded. — It  should  be  noted  tliat  those 
in  whom  the  sense  of  humor  is  keenest  often  display  it 
least.  When  a  man  explains  liis  understanding  of  a 
joke  his  enjoyment  of  it  is  superficial.  Such  a  one  is  so 
impatient  to  obtrude  his  appreciation  of  the  fnnny  that  lie 
never  permits  the  funny  fully  to  develop  itself.  The  trne 
humorist  is  never  in  a  hurry.  If  you  bungle  in  telling  a 
story  familiar  to  him  he  does  not  interrupt  you,  even  to 
hint  that  he  has  heard  it  before,  but  lets  you  blunder  on  to 
the  conclusion,  finding  it  doubly  ludicrous  that  you  suppose 
he  is  laughing  at  the  story,  while  in  fact  he  is  laughing  at 
you. 


Chap.  VII.J        PERCEPTION  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  109 

A  common  incident  is  the  tii*Ht  visit  of  the  beardless  boy  to  the 
barber's  ahop.  In  all  these  stories  the  barber  parades  his  face- 
tiousness.  For  instance,  he  lathe;*?  his  customer's  face  and  then 
sits  do\*Ti  to  read  the  morfting  newspaper. 

♦'  What  are  you  waiting  for?  "  asks  the  boy  ;  and  the  barber  re- 
plies : 

"  Waiting  for  your  beai'd  to  grow." 

Now,  the  bai'ber  spoils  the  joke  by  obtruding  his  own  smart- 
ness. The  true  humorist  would  lather  and  shave  the  smooth  face 
as  if  it  were  a  Leadville  miner's  ;  would  inquire  if  the  razor  took 
hold  well,  and  if  all  the  beard  should  be  removed  or  a  small  goatee 
left  to  sort  of  balance  the  moustache,  like ;  and  all  so  deftly  and 
imperturbably  that  the  boy  would  pay  his  bill  with  the  air  of  a  vet- 
eran, and  swagger  oflf  like  a  drum-major. 

In  a  recently  published  book  of  memoirs  we  are  told  that  some- 
thing in  the  appearance  of  Professor  Buttmann,  the  profound  Greek 
scholar,  irresistibly  impressed  every  one  he  met  with  the  idea  that 
he  was  a  barber.  Passing  along  the  street  one  day  he  was  hailed 
from  an  upper  window  by  some  one  to  him  unknown,  wlio  beck- 
oned to  him  to  ascend  ;  and  when  the  wise  man  entered  command- 
ed curtly  :  "  Cut  my  hair." 

The  professor  meekly  obeyed,  and  had  abput  half- concluded  the 
"operation  when  the  victim,  looking  into  .he  glass,  discovered 
that  one  side  of  his  head  had  been  redujed  to  baldness,  while 
the  other  looked  as  if  it  had  been  gnawed  by  an  absent-minded 
mule. 

"Merciful  Heaven!  "  he  yelled,  "you  don't  know  how  to  cut 
hair." 

*•  You  did  not  ask  me  whether  I  did  or  not  ;  I  am  Profes.sor 
Buttmann,"  and  with  a  low  bow  the  h'anuHl  niau  dej>arted.  Hf 
was  a  true  humorist. 

Enjoyed  in  Proportion  to  Difficulty. — I^ike  all  our 
other  powers,  the  faculty  of  appreciating  the  funny  is 
enjoyed  in  proportion  to  the  difficulties  it  encounters. 
There  is  most  zest  in  the  game  of  chess  that  we  barely  win, 
and  that  is  to  us  the  funniest,  joke  which  we  barely  see  and 
our  neighbors  do  not  see  at  all. 


110  WHY  THE  LUDICROUS  GIVES  PLEASURE.    [Paut  II. 

Cue  who  lu4s  aiUlresiMHl  cliffereut  audiences  knows  how  iiii)>o8si- 
ble  it  is  to  pvedict  the  reception  a  certain  anecdote  will  receive. 
Told  precisely  alike  in  three  difiereut  places,  one  audience  will 
laugh  till  the  tears  come,  another  will  sit  stolid  because  it  fails  to 
see  the  point,  and  the  third  will  sneer  because  it  sees  the  point  too 
easily. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  one  must  listen  to  many  stories  to  find 
a  point  new  enough  to  occasion  the  surprise  which  is  the  chief  ele- 
ment of  the  ludicrous.  Dr.  Johnson  jnojected  a  work  "  to  show 
how  small  a  quantity  of  real  fiction  there  is  in  the  world  and  that 
the  same  images,  with  very  few  variations,  have  ser>'ed  all  authors 
who  have  ever  written."  Certainly  a  baie  dozen  would  make  up  a 
majority  of  the  paragraplis  gleaned  for  in  the  funny  columns  of  our 
newspajjers.  It  would  be  worth  the  student's  while  to  count  the 
proportion  which  relate  to  the  mother-in-law,  to  big  feet,  to  doc- 
tors killing  their  ])atients,  to  the  jKX)r  mule  that  won't  work  both 
ways,  and  to  the  sei-vant-girl  who  kindled  a  file  with  uai^litha  and 
nothing  has  benzine  of  her  since. 

Conventional  Jokes. — ^Xot  only  are  a  niajonty  of  jokes 
built  on  a  few  dummy  ideas,  but  the  ideas  themselves  are 
only  conventionally  funny,  so  that  the  laugh  is  not  at  the 
idea,  but  at  some  peculiarity  in  the  expression. 

For  instance,  the  world  has  agreed  to  smile  when  it  is  suggested 
that  a  doctor  kills  his  patients.  As  long  ago  as  w  hen  Martial  WTote 
this  was  an  accepted  joke,  and  one  of  his  epigi-ams  may  be  thus 
translated: 

A  doctor  lately  was  a  captain  made ; 
It  is  a  change  of  titlcR,  not  of  trade. 

Now  the  ways  in  which  this  assumption  may  be  suggested  are 
numberless. 

A  physician's  wife  looking  out  of  the  window  sees  her  husband 
in  a  funeral  procession.  "I  do  wish  he  would  not  go  to  the 
grave,"  she  complains,  "■  it  looks  so  like  a  tailor  canying  home  his 
work." 

Two  teams  are  travelling  along  a  lonely  road.  One  tries  in 
vain  to  pass  the  other,  and  the  driver  calls  out,  '*  Say,  man,  what's 
vour  business  ?  " 


Chap.  VII. J        PERCEPTION  OF  THE  LUDICROUS.  HI 

"  I  am  a  physician,  sir,"  replies  tlio  other  Htiffly. 

••  All  right,  then,  you  ouglit  t(j  keej)  ahead ;  I  carry  coffinH." 

A  practitioner  liiicU  a  lady  reading  «'  Twelfth  Night,"  and  aaks  ; 

'*  When  Shakspere  wrote  about  Patience  on  a  Monument  did  he 
mean  doctors'  patients  ?  " 

"  No,"  is  the  reply ;  **  you  don't  find  doctors'  patients  on  monu- 
ments, Imt  under  them." 

The  essence  of  the  ludicrous  is  incongruity,  and  in  the  best 
jokes  the  incongruity  lies  in  the  ideas.  But  here  the  main  incon- 
gruity lias  in  as.sumiug  that  doctore,  whose  business  it  is  to  cure 
l)atieuts,  really  kill  them.  In  tliis  there  is  no  longer  any  novelty, 
luul  therefore  whatever  is  funny  must  come  from  the  jwirticulai- 
form  of  expression.  The  novelty  of  expression  in  anecdotes  like 
these  is  largely  ba.sed  upon  punning.  The  jokes  are  mere  twist- 
iiigs  of  words,  ai-tificial,  and  at  the  best  but  dexterous. 

But  with  the  man  deficient  in  humor  they  are  favorites,  because 
he  can  commit  them  to  memory  and  remember  to  laugh  at  them 
whenever  they  are  dressed  up  and  trotted  out.  Esjiecially  gmteful 
to  such  a  mind  is  the  joke  tliat  derives  all  its  humor  from  frequent 
rei)etition.  In  the  play  of  the  "Mighty  Uollai-"  the  jMn-sistent 
misuse  of  capital  letters  is  regarded  as  a  "  K.  CI." — t'apital  joke — 
'•  by  a  large  majority." 

American  humor  is  cliaracteri/xHl  by  what  may  be 
termed  the  omission  of  the  major  premise. 

The  logicians  i-esolve  every  judgment  into  a  syllogism.  Tims,  if 
we  conclude  that  a  heavy  fall  of  snow  is  a  blessing  because  i:  pro- 
vides iKwr  j)eople  with  work  in  shovelling  otf  sidewalks,  our  entire 
thought  is  this  :  Major  premise — Whatever  pro>'ides  jwor  people 
with  work  is  a  blessing.  Minor  premise — Such  a  snow  im>\'ide8 
poor  i)eople  with  work.  Conclusion — Therefore  such  a  snow  is  a 
blos.sing.  Now,  we  do  not  usually  stop  to  expre.ss  tho  major  pre- 
mise, but  go  at  onco  from  (h(^  minor  to  the  conclusion.  A  syllo- 
gism ^-ith  one  of  the  premises  omitted  is  called  an  enthymeme, 
and  the  word  is  worth  remembering  because  it  describes  it  exactly 
to  call  the  tyjucal  joke  of  the  iM>riotl  an  enthvmeme. 

"  Will  the  boy  who  threw  that  red  i>ep|K»r  on  tho  stove  come 
forward  and  get  a  nice  book  ?  "  asked  on  Iowa  Sunday-school  su- 


112  WHY  THE  LUDICROUS  GIVES  PLEASURE.    [Pakt  IL 

perintendent,  with  a  bland  smile.  But  the  boy  never  stirred. 
He  was  a  far-seeing  boy. 

Now  there  is  a  capital  enthymeme.  The  major  premise  is  that 
if  the  boy  had  come  up  he  would  have  got  wallojjed  ;  but  that  is 
left  to  the  imagination,  being,  in  fact,  implied  in  the  pepper. 

A  Western  coroner's  jury  brought  in  a  verdict  that  the  deceased 
came  to  his  death  from  calling  Bill  Jones  a  liar. 

A  Sharon  man  stole  a  peck  of  dahlia-roots  under  the  impression 
that  they  were  sweet -jiotatoes.     He  felt  the  deception  keenly. 

A  New  Fairfield  man  who  failed  to  get  a  thirty-cent  pineapple 
for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  wanted  to  know  whether  we  were  breath- 
ing the  pure  air  of  freedom  or  being  strangled  by  the  fetid  fumes 
of  a  foreign  despotism.  The  store-keeper  said  those  were  the  only 
pine-apples  he  had. 

A  man  from  Maine,  who  had  never  paid  more  than  twenty-five 
cents  to  see  an  entertainment,  went  to  a  New  York  theatre  where 
the  play  was  "  The  Forty  Thieves,"  and  was  charged  a  dollar  and 
a  half  for  a  ticket.  Handing  the  jjasteboard  back,  he  remarked, 
•'  Keep  it,  mister ;  I  don't  want  to  see  the  other  thirty-nine." 

A  Milford  resident  came  to  New  Haven  for  a  spree.  He  had  it. 
In  a  dnmken  stupor  he  stumbled  into  the  Fair  Haven  rolling-mill, 
where  he  awoke  at  night  to  see  molten  iron  glaring,  })right  sparks 
flying,  laboi-ers  gliding  to  and  fro  in  the  lurid  flame,  and  honible 
shadows.  As  he  nibbed  his  eyes  a  workman  asked  him  where  he  came 
from.  He  gasped  :  *'  Wlien  I  was  on  earth  I  lived  in  New  Milford." 

In  this  sort  of  anecdotes  it  is  assumed  that  the  hearer's 
mind  is  briglit  and  quick  enougli  to  supply  the  missing 
connection.  The  hearer  is  gratified  by  this  confidence,  and 
by  his  ability  to  justify  it,  and  would  resent  your  thinking 
it  necessary  even  to  hint,  "  This  is  a  goak. — A.  "Ward." 

While  this  omission  of  the  connection  adds  to  the  pleas- 
ure of  those  able  to  supply  it,  unfortunately  it  produces 
confusion  or  blankness  in  the  minds  of  those  who  are  una- 
ble to  do  so. 

The  great  success  of  Artemas  "Ward's  career  was  his  lecture  on 
Utah,  delivered  in  Egyptian  Hall,  London.     After  a  prologue,  in- 


Cbap.  MI]        PERCEPTION  OP  THE  LUDICROUS.  113 

tended,  as  the  programme  stated,  to  show  what  a  good  educaliou 
the  lecturer  had,  Artemas  went  on  to  inform  his  audience  that  it 
was  an  error  to  call  Salt  Lake  City  the  City  of  the  Plain,  as  some 
of  the  women  were  really  vei-y  pretty.  The  Mormon's  religion,  he 
said,  was  singular,  but  his  wives  were  plural.  The  "  Lady  of  Lyons" 
was  produced  at  the  Mormon  theatre,  but  failed  to  satisfy  the  au- 
dience because  there  was  only  one  Pauline  in  it,  and  it  seemed 
ridiculous  to  make  so  much  fuss  over  a  single  woman.  The  play 
was  revised  at  once  and  presented  the  next  evening  with  fifteen 
Paulines  in  the  cast,  whereupon  it  became  a  great  success. 

"Brigham  Young,"  he  said,  "is  an  indulgent  father  and  a  nu- 
merous husband.  He  has  two  hundred  wives.  Just  think  of  that ! 
Oblige  me  by  thinking  of  that.  Two  hundred  souls  with  but  a 
single  thought,  two  hundred  hearts  that  beat  as  one.  He  loves 
not  wisely  but  two  hundred  well.  He  is  dreadfully  married.  He 
is  the  most  manned  man  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.  I  saw  his  mother- 
in  law  w  hen  I  was  there.  I  can't  tell  you  exactly  how  many  there 
is  of  her,  but  it  i  5  a  good  deal.  It  strikes  me  that  one  mother-in- 
law  is  about  enough  to  have  in  the  family — unless  you  are  fond  of 
excitement.  A  few  days  before  my  arrival  Brigliam  Young  was 
man-ied  again  to  a  yoimg  and  really  pretty  girl.  He  told  me  con- 
fidentially that  he  shouldn't  get  married  any  more.  He  says  that 
all  he  wants  now  is  to  live  on  in  peace  for  the  remainder  of  his 
days,  and  to  have  his  dying  pillow  soothed  by  the  loWng  hands  of 
his  family.  Well — that's  all  right — I  suppose  ;  but  if  he  lias  his 
dying  pillow  soothed  by  the  loving  hands  of  all  his  family,  he'll 
have  to  go  out  of  dooi-s  to  die." 

Robert  Lowe  lieanl  this  lecture,  and  laughed  heartily  all  the 
evening.  John  Bright  sat  stolid,  listening  with  grave  attention, 
and  afterward  remarked : 

**  I  must  say  I  tmn't  see  what  people  find  to  enjoy  in  this  lecture. 
The  information  is  meagre,  and  is  presented  in  a  desultory',  discon- 
nected manner.  In  fact,  I  can't  help  seriously  questioning  some 
of  his  statements." 

WIT  AND  HUMOR 

The  ludicrous  has  two  general  divi&iuns,  not  always  dis- 
tinguished, and  not  easy  accurately  to  define,  yet  between 


114  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.  (Part  II. 

which  it  is  iinjmi'biiit  to  discriiiiiiiate.  These  are  wit  and 
humor,  some  differences  between  which  may  be  pointod 
out  in  a  series  of  parallel  descriptions. 

1.  Humor  is  enjoyed  in  j}rojwrtion  as  it  is  exj^ected  / 
wit  in  proportion  as  it  is  unexpected. 

Tlie  first  limit  to  be  affixed  to  that  observation  of  relations 
which  protluces  the  feeling  of  wit  is  tliat  they  must  be  relations 
which  excite  surprise.  If  you  tell  me  that  all  men  must  die  I  am 
very  little  struck  with  what  you  say,  because  it  is  not  an  assertion 
very  remarkable  for  its  novelty  ;  but  if  you  were  to  say  that  man 
was  like  an  hour-glass — that  both  must  nin  out,  and  both  render 
up  their  dust,  I  should  listen  to  you  with  more  attention,  because 
I  should  feel  something  like  suiprise  at  the  sudden  relation  you 
had  stnick  out  between  two  such  apjmrently  dissimilar  ideas  as  a 
man  and  a  time-glass. — Sydney  SMrrn. 

To  compare  one  man's  singing  to  that  of  another,  or  to  represent 
the  whiteness  of  any  object  by  tliat  of  milk  or  snow,  or  the  variety 
of  its  colors  by  those  of  the  i-ainbow,  cannot  be  called  wit,  unless 
besides  this  obvious  resemblance  there  be  some  further  congi-uity 
discovered  in  the  two  ideas  tlia'j  is  capable  of  giving  the  reader  some 
sui'prise.  Thus  when  a  poeb  tells  us  the  bosom  of  his  mistress  is  as 
white  as  snow  there  is  no  wit  in  the  comparison  ;  but  when  he  adds 
with  a  sigh  that  it  is  as  cold,  too,  it  then  grows  into  wit. — Addison. 

Hence  wit  beai*s  no  repetition.  If  we  enjoy  hearing  or  telling  a 
witty  thing  a  second  time  it  is  not  for  the  sensation  of  perceiving 
the  \\-it  itself,  but  to  observe  its  expression  in  those  who  have  not 
before  heard  it,  a  pleasure  akin  i*ather  to  humor. 

In  anti  hesis  the  pleasure  of  wit  is  increased  by  prevision  of  the 
witty  climax.  Thus  when  a  man  holds  up  a  letter  left  at  his  door 
containing  only  the  words  "April  Fool,"  and  says,  "I  have  often 
heard  of  people  who  wrote  letters  and  forgot  to  sign  their  names, 
but  this  is  the  first  instance  in  which  I  have  kno^^•ll  a  man  " — bv 
this  time  the  quick  hearer  has  completed  the  anti-climax  and  anti- 
cipates the  conclusion — "  to  sign  hi;  name  and  forget  to  vrriie  the 
letter." 

Take  another  utterance  of  the  same  preacher  :  *'  Tlie  fii-st  day  I 
was  sea-sick  I  was  afraid  I  should  die  ;  the  second  day  I  didn't  care 


Chap.  VII.  ]     EXPECTEDNESS  ;  IXSTANTANEOUSNESS.  115 

whether  I  did  or  not ;  the  third  day — I  was  afraid  I  shouhln't." 
The  hearer  jumps  at  the  olinia\  tind  begins  to  laugh  before  it  is 
enunciated. 

When  Dean  Stanley  cauie  to  this  country  the  proprietor  of  a  cer- 
tain hotel,  anxious  to  do  honor  to  his  guest,  stationed  a  boy  at  the 
speaking-tube  leading  from  the  dean's  room,  and  said  : 

"Now,  boy,  be  very  resi)ectful.  Listen  attentively,  and  when 
you  hear  him  call  answer  at  once,  and  if  ho  asks  who  is  there  re- 
ply, •  The  boy,  my  lord.'  " 

The  l)oy  tried  to  follow  instructions,  but  gi'ew  so  nervous  over 
their  imi>ortance  that  when  at  last  the  dean  did  call  tlirough  the 
tube  and  ask  who  was  there  the  little  fellow  piped  out : — * 

By  the  time  the  story  has  got  this  far  everybody  knows  the  boy 
cried,  "  The  Lord,  my  boy." 

Hero  it  might  at  fii-st  seem  that  the  mind  enjoyed  the  Avit  better 
because  it  was  prepared  for  it — in  other  words,  when  there  was  less 
surprise.  Btlt  the  wit  lies,  not  in  enunciating  the  entire  sentence, 
but  in  conceiving  it,  and  gives  the  hearer  greater  pleasure  because 
th3  mind  is  able  to  d  )  more  than  is  asked  of  it ;  not  only  appre- 
ciate the  i>oin\  bu*;  anticipate  it.  Brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit,  and 
wit  is  most  enjoyed  by  those  who  can  communicate  it  by  short -hand 
reporting.  To  j)erceive  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence  what  most  of 
the  world  will  catch  only  at,  the  end  is  a  mental  triumph  as  grati- 
fying as  it  is  exhilarating. 

On  the  other  liaiul,  to  appreciate  the  humorous  tlie  mind 
needs,  as  it  were,  to  adjust  itself,  and  sometimes  loses  the 
pleasure  of  the  first  sentence  or  two  of  a  humorous  descrip- 
tion because  it  is  n(>t  quite  certain  whether  what  is  said  is 
to  be  judged  by  matter-of-fact  standards  or  looked  at 
tlirough  the  spectacles  of  humor.  When  it  is  assured  of 
the  latter  it  drops  the  customary  attitude  of  critical  judg- 
ment and  settles  down  to  enjoyment. 

2.    Wii  is  i7istnntaneoiis  ;  humor  u  cofdifiuous. 

A  witty  story  may  he  long,  hut  only  that  the  hearers' 
minds  may  he  thoroughly  prepared  to  ap}>reciate  the  catas- 
trophe ;  or  if  it  consist  of  witty  dialogue,  each  happy  hit 


116  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.  [Part  IL 

gives  its  individual  pleasure,  like  so  many  taps ;  the  taps 
may  even  be  too  frequent,  as  in  Sheridan's  comedies. 

Humor  may  characterize  an  entire  description,  a  whole 
l)Ook,  all  that  is  known  of  an  intimate  acquaintance.  Hu- 
mor pervades,  while  wit  embellishes.  Humor  glows,  wit 
sparkles. 

3.  Ilurtwr  may  he  inanlfest  in  action.  WU  must  be  eQ> 
'pressed  in  words. 

In  both  there  is  perception  of  incongruity,  but  in  wit 
the  connection  of  the  two  incongruous  ideas  is  made  by 
language,  while  in  humor  it  may  result  from  movement. 

As  you  increase  the  incongruity  you  increase  the  humor ;  as  you 
diminish  it  you  diminish  the  humor.  If  a  tradesman  of  corpulent 
and  respectable  appearance,  with  habiUments  somewhat  too  ostenta- 
tious, were  to  slide  down  gently  into  the  mud  and  decorate  a  pea- 
green  coat,  I  am  afraid  we  should  all  have  the  barbarity  to  laugh. 
If  his  hat  and  wig,  like  treacherous  servants,  were  to  desert  their 
falling  master,  it  certainly  would  not  diminish  our  propensity  to 
laugh.  But  if  he  were  to  fall  into  a  violent  passion  and  abuse 
everybody  about  him,  nobody  could  possibly  resist  the  incongruity 
of  a  pea-green  tradesman,  very  respectable,  sitting  in  the  mud  and 
threatening  all  the  passers-by  with  the  effects  of  his  wrath.  Here 
every  circumstance  heightens  the  himior  of  the  scene — the  gaiety 
of  his  tunic,  the  general  respectability  of  his  appearance,  the  rills 
of  muddy  water  which  trickle  down  his  cheeks,  and  the  harmless 
violence  of  his  rage.  But  if  instead  of  this  we  were  to  observe  a 
dustman  falling  into  the  mud  it  would  hardly  attract  any  attention, 
because  the  opposition  of  ideas  is  so  trifling  and  the  incongruity  so 
slight. — Sydney  Smtth. 

4.  Wit  may  he  wholly  im^iriative.  Humx/r  involves 
sentiment  and  character. 

In  fact  the  quality  of  wit  exists  wherever  imagination  percolates 
through  the  understanding ;  the  sediment  is  the  grain-gold  of  wit. 
But  the  quality  of  humor,  depending  upon  various  moral  traits, 
exists  only  wherever  a  broad  imagination  is  combined  with  a  sweet 


Chap.  VU.]    HOW  MANIFESTED  AND  LIMITED.    PUNS.         117 

and  tolerant  moi'al  sense  that  is  devoid  of  malice  and  all  imcharit- 
ableness  and  at  peace  with  all  mankind. — Weiss. 

In  the  simply  laughable  there  is  a  mere  disproportion  between  a 
definite  act  and  a  definite  person  or  end  ;  or  a  disproportion  of  the 
end  itself  to  the  rank  or  circumstances  of  the  definite  person.  Com- 
bination of  thoughts,  words,  or  images  will  not  of  itself  constitute 
humor,  unless  some  peculiarity  of  temperament  or  character  be  in- 
dicated thereby  as  the  cause  of  the  same. 

The  excellencies  of  Sterne  consist  in  bringing  forward  into  dis- 
tinct consciousness  those  miiiuticp  of  thought  and  feeling  which 
appear  trifles  yet  have  an  importance  for  the  moment,  and  which 
almost  every  man  feels  in  one  way  or  other.  Thus  is  produced  the 
novelty  of  an  individual  jjeculiarity,  together  with  the  interest  of 
ft  something  that  belongs  to  our  common  nature.  In  short,  Sterne 
seizes  happily  on  those  points  in  which  every  man  is  more  or  less 
a  humorist.  And,  indeed,  to  be  a  little  more  subtle,  the  propen- 
sity to  notice  these  things  does  in  itself  constitute  the  humorist, 
and  the  superadded  power  of  so  presenting  them  to  men  in  gen- 
eral gives  us  the  man  of  humor. — Coleridge. 

The  four  humors  in  a  man,  according  to  the  old  physicians,  were 
blood,  choler,  phlegm,  and  melancholy.  So  long  as  these  were  • 
duly  mixed  all  would  be  well.  But  so  soon  as  any  of  them  unduly 
preponderated  the  man  became  humorous,  one  huMior  or  another 
bearing  too  great  a  sway  in  him.  As  such  his  conduct  would  not 
be  according  to  the  received  nile  of  other  men,  but  have  some- 
thing peculiar,  whimsical,  self-willed  in  it.  In  this  self-assert- 
ing character  of  the  humorous  man  lay  the  point  of  contact 
between  the  modem  use  of  humor  and  the  ancient.  It  was 
his  hnmor  which  would  lead  a  man  to  take  an  original  view 
and  aspect  of  things,  a  humorous  aspect,  first  in  the  old  sense, 
and  then  in  that  which  we  now  employ.  The  great  passage  in 
English  literature  on  humor  and  its  history  is  the  prologue,  or 
"stage,"  as  it  is  called,  to  Ben  Jonson's  "Every  Man  in  His 
Humor." 

PUNS. 

The  most  purely  abstract  form  of  wit  is  pnnning,  wliich 
Weiss  defines  a  constraint  of  two  difterent  ideas  to  be  ex- 


118  WIT  A^D  HUMOE  DISTINGUISHED.  [Part  II. 

pressed  by  one  word,  while  wit  proper  is  the  constraint  of 
two  different  objects  to  be  expressed  by  one  idea. 

Several  classes  of  puns  have  been  distingnished. 

i.  WJiere  t/ie  same  form  lias  several  meanings  ;  as  Fair :  1,  beanti- 
fill ;  2,  just ;  3,  a  market-place. 

At  one  light  bound  high  overleajjcd  all  bound. — Parcuiise  Lost. 

"  I'm  transported  to  see  you,"  as  the  convict  said  to  the  kangaroo. 

*'  You  are  very  pressing,"  as  the  filbert  said  to  the  nut-cracker. 

A  gentleman  observed  one  day  to  Mr.  Erskine  that  punning  was 
the  lowest  kind  of  wit.  ** It  is  so,"  he  replied,  "and  therefore  at 
the  foundation  of  them  all." 

I  am  something  like  a  corn-field,  with  plenty  of  ears  but  no 
particular  idea  of  music. — John  Phcenk. 

Dean  Ramsey  tells  of  a  soaked  Scotch  minister  who  was  rubbed 
down  at  the  kirk,  and  told  he  need  not  feai* ;  ho  would  be  dry 
enough  when  he  got  into  the  pulpit. 

ii.  Where  two  words  of  different  meaning  are  pronounced  alike 
though  sjyelled  differently  ;  as  son  and  sun,  peer  and  pier,  etc. 

Not  on  thy  sole,  but  on  thy  soul,  harsh  Jew. — Merchant  of  Venice. 

Peering  in  maps  for  ports  and  piers  and  roads. — Id. 
They  went  and  told  the  sexton. 
And  the  sexton  tolled  the  bell. — Hood. 

Theodore  Hook  said  of  an  author  who  gave  his  publisher  a  din- 
ner, "I  suppose  he  poured  his  wine-cellar  into  his  book-seller." 

John  Phoenix  tells  of  a  mother  so  fnigal  that  her  verv^  first  ad- 
monition to  her  infant  was,  "  Buy  low,  baby." 

"While  in  the  city  of  the  Golden  Gate  I  sent  to  the  cook  for  a 
broiled  chop,  but  he  sent  me  a  fried  one.  It  must  be  a  satisfaction 
in  one's  last  moments  to  receive  consolation  from  a  San  Franciscan 
friar. — Id. 

The  shadow  of  myself  formed  in  her  eye, 
Which,  being  but  the  shadow  of  your  son. 
Becomes  a  sun,  and  makes  your  son  a  shadow. 

— King  Johyi. 

iii.  A  third  class  is  of  those  that  are  spelled  differently,  and 
pronounced  nearly  though  not  quite  alike  ;  as,  baron,  barren  ;  sea- 
son, seizing,  etc.,  though  these  more  frequently  produce  malaprops 
than  puns. 


Ohap.  VILJ  puns.  119 

Mrs.  Malaprop  talks  of  contagious  countries,  and  recommends  a 
nice  derangement  of  epitaphs. 

iv.  There  are  cases  in  which  a  phrase  or  idiom  consisting  of  two 
or  three  words  may  be  used  equivocally y  and  thus  considered  as 
a  pun. 

Sydney  Smith,  hearing  a  boy  read  of  patriarchs  as  partridges, 
declared  it  was  too  bad  to  make  game  of  them. 

•*  Is  Mr.  Smith  a  legal  voter  ?  "  asked  a  politician  at  election. 
"Yes,"  replied  a  by-stander,  **  but  being  sick  abed  he  is  an  ill-legal 
voter  to-day." 

One  day,  observing  on  a  board  the  warning,  **  Beware  the  dog,** 
Hood  wrote  underneath,  '*  Ware  be  the  dog  ?  " 

John  Phoenix  tells  of  an  inquisitive  man  who  married  simply  be- 
cause, having  exhausted  all  other  subjects  of  inquiry,  he  asked  the 
young  lady  if  she  would  have  him. 

For  if  the  Jew  do  cut  but  deep  enough, 
ril  pay  it  instantly  with  all  my  heart. 

— Merchant  of  Venice. 

V.  In  Milton  there  are  less  puns  than  conceits^  after  the  spirit  of 
Italian  literature. 

Highly  they  raged  against  the  Highest. — Paradise  Lost. 

His  only  pleasure  is  to  be  displeased. — Cowper. 

"There's  something  in  that,"  as  the  cat  said  when  she  peeped 
into  the  milk-jug. 

vi.  Tlie  double  pun  is  usually  too  elaborate  to  have  the  mark  of 
spontaneousness  indispensable  even  to  moderate  enjoyment  of  a 
pun. 

Freshman. — ^May  I  have  the  pleasure  ? 

Miss  Society.— Oui. 

Freshman. — What  does  *•  we  "  mean  ? 

Miss  S.— O,  U  and  I. 

When  Ouida  asked  Charles  Beade  for  a  name  for  her  dog  ho 
suggested  " Tonic,"  adding,  "it  is  sore  to  be  a  mixture  of  bark, 
steal,  and  whine." 

"  Ten  days  or  ten  dollars,"  said  the  judge,  and  the  prisoner,  a 
snllen-looking  fellow,  paid  the  fine  and  was  discharged.  He 
walkeil  moodily  out  of  the  court-room,  but  when  he  reached  the 
door  turned  and  showered  a  tirade  of  profane  abuse  upon  the 


120  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.  [Part  II 

magistrate.  Then  he  ran  into  the  corridor,  but  before  he  could 
reach  the  street  he  was  recaptured,  and  stood  again  before  the  bar. 

"Ten  dollars  more,"  said  the  judge  ;  "  if  you  had  used  language 
more  chaste  and  refined,  you  would  not  have  thus  been  chased 
and  refined." 

Coleridge  remarks  :  '•  Baxter,  bke  most  scholastic  logicians,  had 
a  sneaking  affection  for  puns.  The  cause  is — the  necessity  of  at- 
tending to  the  primary  sense  of  words,  that  is,  the  visual  image  or 
general  relation  expressed,  and  which  remains  conunon  to  all  the 
after-senses,  however  widely  or  even  incongruously  differing  from 
each  other  in  other  respects.  For  the  same  reason  schoolmasters 
are  commonly  punsters.  *I  have  endorsed  your  Bill,  sir,'  said  a 
pedagogue  to  a  merchant,  meaning  he  had  flogged  his  son  William." 

But  no  man  of  sense  betrays  an  affection  for  puns  which  is  not 
sneaking.  The  temptation  is  often  irresistible,  but  the  offence 
should  be  accompanied  by  an  apology,  at  least  implied  in  the  in- 
flection, or  in  an  humble  drop  of  the  eyelids.  Let  it  never  be  for- 
gotten that  a  pun  for  its  own  sake  is  at  best  but  playful,  and  is  per- 
missible only  when  play  is  permissible. 

Think  of  finding  in  grave  disoonne  a  triviality  like  this :  "  When  the  infinite  I  AM 
beheld  his  wtMic  Off  creation,  he  said  Thoo  Art,  and  ART  was.^ 

While  the  mere  pun  is  at  best  a  childish  frolicsomeness,  the  pun 
as  an  adjunct  to  wit  may  intensify  the  effect.  WTien  Sydney  Smith 
recommended  the  bishops  to  lay  their  heads  together  to  make  a 
wooden  pavement,  and  when  Burke  pointed  out  that  majesty,  de- 
prived of  its  externals  (m  |  a  jest  |  y,)  was  only  a  jest,  judgment  un- 
derlay the  puns  and  converted  the  thought  into  sarcasm. 

Sometimes,  however,  a  pun  blunts  the  shaft  of  wit.  For  in- 
stance : 

Irony  employs  wit  to  feather  its  purport.  A  Frenchman  said  of  a  man  who  really  did 
never  make  a  witty  remark :  ' '  How  full  of  wit  that  man  must  be !  he  never  leu  any  eKcape." 
That  when  translated  is  improved,  because  the  English  word  any  can  refer  at  once  to  no 
wit  and  to  no  person's  escaping  the  effect  of  wit    Thus  the  irony  is  increased. — Weiss. 

On  the  contrary,  so  far  as  any  doubt  is  produced  as  to  whether 
the  meaning  is,  let  any  man  escape — which  is  pure  irony — or  let 
any  wit  escape — which  is  wit  edged  by  a  pun — the  hearer  is  con- 
fused, and  his  perception,  divided  between  two  ideas,  is  not 
strongly  impressed  by  either. 


Chap.  VU.]  PUNS.  121 

It  moat  be  admitted  that  Charles  Lamb,  a  capital  anthority,  defends  this  rery  indefi- 
Biteneaa  ai  foUown : 

An  Oxford  ■cholur,  meeting  a  porter  who  was  carrying  a  hare  through  the  streets, 
aoooeti  him  with  thia  extraordinary  question  :  "  Prithee,  friend,  is  that  thy  own  hare  or 
a  wig?" 

There  is  no  excusing  this  and  no  resisting  it.  A  man  might  blur  ten  sides  of  paper 
in  attempting  a  defence  of  it  against  a  critic  who  should  be  laughter-proof.  The  quibble 
itself  is  not  considerable.  It  is  only  a  now  turn  given  by  a  little  false  pronunciation  to« 
very  common  though  not  very  courteous  inquiry.  Put  by  one  gentleman  to  another  at  a 
dinner-party  it  would  have  been  vapid  ;  to  the  mistress  of  the  house  it  would  have  shown 
much  less  wit  than  rudeneM.  We  must  take  in  the  totality  of  time,  place,  and  person  ; 
the  pert  look  of  the  inquiring  scholar,  the  desponding  looks  of  the  puzzled  porter ;  the 
one  stopping  at  his  leisure,  the  other  hurridng  on  with  his  burden ;  the  innocent  though 
rather  abrupt  tendency  of  the  first  member  of  the  question,  with  the  utter  and  inextrica- 
ble irrelevancy  of  the  second  ;  the  place — a  public  street,  not  favorable  to  frivolous  inves- 
tigation ;  the  affrontivo  quality  of  the  primitive  inquiry  (the  common  question)  Invidi- 
OQsly  transferred  to  the  derivative  (the  new  turn  given  to  it)  in  the  implied  satire — 
namely,  that  few  of  that  tribe  are  expected  to  eat  of  the  good  things  which  they  carry, 
they  being  in  most  countries  considered  rather  as  the  temporary  trustees  than  owners  of 
such  dainties — which  the  fellow  was  beginning  to  understand  ;  but  then  wig  again  comes 
in,  and  he  can  make  nothing  of  it ;  all  put  together  constitute  a  picture :  Hogarth  coold 
have  made  it  intelligible  on  canvas. 

Yet  nine  out  of  ten  critics  will  prononnce  this  a  very  bad  pan,  because  of  the  defect- 
iveness in  the  concluding  member,  which  is  its  Tery  beauty,  and  oonstitates  the  surprise. 
—Popular  FaUadea. 

When  the  purpose  of  puns  is  to  enliven  what  otherwise 
miglit  be  monotonous  and  dreary,  puns  appropriate  and 
facile  are  often  very  entertaining. 

"Mr.  Dnyckinck  truly  says  that  '  an  auctioneer  is  bound  to  hold  his  own  against  all  in- 
ierlocators.  .  .  .  It  is  his  business  to  control  the  audiences  and  their  purses.  To  do 
this  he  mtist  keep  his  company  in  good  humor,  and  least  of  all  suffer  any  intellectual  dis> 
oomflture.     Keeae  never  lost  his  superiority.* 

"  But  let  us  get  into  the  auction-room.  A  narrative  of  the  Battk)  of  Waterloo  is  put 
op.  '  How  mnch  for  it  f  *  Twenty-five  cents  was  bid.  -  There  waa  no  quarter  at  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo,  my  dear  dr.*  I  believe  it  was  the  loto  Mr.  Qowans  who,  when  the 
anotionMr  h^d  in  his  hand  '  Some  Accooa'..  d  ^ihe  Centoun,*  declared  thcX  there  couldn't 
be  a  history  of  what  never  existed,  and  wanted  an  instance  of  n  Centaur ;  whereupon  the 
doubter  was  referred  to  the  Biblical  record  of  the  head  o£  John  too  Buptist  coming  in  on 
a  charger. 

"  A  wittidam  MMMtiiiMi  miffht  be  beyond  the  k«o  of  a  portioa  of  his  audience,  as 
when  he  spoke  of  Cadmus  as  the  '  first  poat-bQj,*  beoaww  'be  carried  letters  from  Phoe- 
nicia to  Greece  ; '  but  when  he  knocked  down  Dagley's  'Death's  Dotngs*  for  serenty-flra 
cent*  to  •  a  decayed  apotheoinr,*  with  the  oonaoiatorT  comment  of  '  smallest  fn«r9 
gratefully  recelTed,*  there  was  no  lack  of  comprehension.  Selling  a  black  letter  volume 
'Concerning  the  Apparel  of  MiniKtcra,'  he  supposed  it  referred  probably  to  their  'surplus 
omamenta ;  *  and  he  aasnred  hia  audience  that  the  '  Poems  of  the  B«v.  Mr.  Logan '  w«ra 
the  Banka  and  Braaa  of  Bonnie  Dooo>-«t  all  •vanta  tha  bcaja. 


122  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.         [Part  II 

*'  An  iUnstntion  of  his  readinen  was  when  »  imroel  of  fancy  envelopes  was  pahsod  up 
to  be  sold  in  one  lot  '  How  manj  are  there  ? '  was  shouted  from  various  paru  of  the 
room.  *  0 1  I  A<m\  know ;  too  many  to  number.  How  much  for  the  lot  ? '  At  last  they 
wwe  knocked  down.  'What  name?*  'Cowperl*  '  It  shall  be  Ck>wper'B  Task  to  count 
them,*  instantly  exclaimed  the  aucti<meer. 

"  A  joke  much  relished  by  the  bouk-binding  fraternity  was  his  likening  a  ledger  to 
Austria,  because  it  was  backed  and  cornered  by  Russia ;  and  When  it  was  knocked  down 
to  a  Mr.  Owen  Phalen  he  paoaed  at  the  name  and  said  reflective^ :  '  Don*t  know  about 
liclHng  to  a  man  that's  always  Owen  and  Phalen.* 

"  At  one  of  the  sales  of  furniture  a  table  of  enrioos  design  was  sold  to  a  bidder  who 
left  it  to  be  called  for.  Some  time  elapsed,  when  a  friend  happening  In  admired  the 
table,  and  wished  to  buy  it  at  private  sale.  My  father  told  him  it  was  sold  to  a  party  who 
thus  far  had  proved  himself  the  moKt  nn-com-for-t»ble-maii  he  ever  knew. 

"  I  remember  when  a  lot  <tf  Wade  h  Butcher's  Sheffield  maors  was  included  in  the 
catalogue  the  anctioDear  said  there  was  no  limit  to  their  sanguinary  poRsibiltticR,  for  the 
purchaser  *  might  wade  in  blood  and  butcher  all  his  friends.*  '  Never  mind,  you'll  have 
one  volume  leas  to  read,'  he  said  to  a  bidder  who  found  his  net  of  books  short ;  and  when 
another  wanted  to  know  where  the  ontside  of  his  copy  of  Lamb  was,  the  auctioneer  con- 
jectured that  •  somebody  had  fleeced  it,'  adding  oousolingly,  *  but  you  can  recover  it,  you 
know.*  A  back-gammon  board  was  put  up,  *  to  be  sold  on  the  nquarc.  and  as  perfect  as 
any  copy  of  Milton,*  which  comparison  neceasltatad  the  explanation  that  there  was  a 
pair  o'  dice  lost ;  and  '  Three  Eras  of  a  Woman's  Life,*  elicitetl  the  running  comment  of 
*  Wonderful  woman — only  three  emit*.  How  much — thirty  cents — oalj  ten  cents  apiece 
— not  very  expensive  errors  after  all.'  ** 

5.  TAe  pleasure  of  wU  lies  in  the  understanding  ;  of 
humor  in  the  sentiment.     Hence: 

6.  TT/^  is  tcitJiOut  sympathy,  while  humor  is  based  upon 
it,  AVit  laiiglis  «/,  while  luiinor  \3.\\^\?>' with.  Wit  pirn- 
islies,  but  discourages ;  liuinor  is  a  solvent  in  which  the 
severest  admonishings  niaj  be  accepted  hopefully. 

We  do  well  to  consider  that  wit  is  an  untractable  faculty.  Un- 
less it  is  well  bridled  it  will  overieap  the  bounds  of  propriety. 
Most  of  the  keen  darts  of  wit  that  one  hears  whizzing  by  have  been 
ix)inted,  barbed,  and  poisoned  by  malignity,  and  fix  on  some  pei*son 
the  stigma  of  vice,  folly,  or  weakness.  .  .  .  The  wit  can  hardly 
prevail  on  himself  to  withhold  a  gibe  for  the  sake  of  affection. 
He  falsely  presumes  that  his  friends  will  not  smart  under  the 
thrusts  he  gives  them ;  or  if  they  do,  that  they  vnlV  forgive  the  of- 
fence since  it  is  committed  by  him.  So  he  goes  on,  putting  their 
patience  to  the  proof,  till  he  has  provoked  them  past  endurance. 
He  who  would  be  a  wit  must  be  content  to  boast  few  friends.  A 
joke  is  an  * '  aii'-di-awn  dagger,"  from  which  our  flesh  instinctively 


Chap.  Vll]         THE  SPHERE  OP  EACH      IRONY.  123 

shrinks.  We  see  not  the  hand  that  gi-asps  it,  and  cannot  diviue 
how  deep  it  will  strike  ;  should  it  prove  harmless,  we  do  not  thank 
it  for  startling  us.— Hebvey. 

This  sharpness  of  tongue  provokes  retort,  the  bitterness  of 
which  is  not  softened  to  the  victim  by  the  reflection  that  he  has 
deserved  it,  and  that  the  sympathy  of  by-standers  will  be  with 
the  one  fii-st  offended. 

••  No  woman  is  worth  looking  at  after  thirty,"  remarked  a  bride 
with  youthful  arrogance.  '*  Quite  true,"  calmly  replied  her  com- 
panion a  few  yeara  older,  **  nor  worth  listening  to  before." 

Talleyrand  was  lame,  and  Madame  de  Stael  was  cross-eyed. 
There  was  no  love  lost  between  them,  and  both  disliked  to  be  re- 
minded of  their  infirmities. 

"Monsieur,"  said  madame,  meeting  her  deai'est  foe  one  day, 
"  pray  how  is  that  i)oor  leg  ?  " 

"  Crooked,  as  you  see,  madame,"  was  the  reply. 

Frederick  the  Second  ha<l  a  liking  for  the  witty  philosopher 
Mendelssohn,  but  was  once  induced  as  an  experiment  to  put  at  his 
plate  the  following  note  : 

MenJeUsohn  U  «n  niw. 

FUCDX&ICK  II. 

Mendelssohn  took  up  the  note,  read  it,  and  remarked  that  some 
one  hatl  taken  an  unpardonable  liberty  with  his  majesty,  haWug 
here  presumed  to  say  that  Mendelssohn  was  one  ass,  and  tliat 
Frederick  was  the  second. 

A  certain  i>etulant  Greek,  objecting  to  Anacharsis  that  he  was  a 
Scythian— •♦True,"  says  Anachai-sis, '* my  country  disgraces  me, 
but  you  disgrace  your  country." 

IRONY. 
Where  wit  is  sarcastic,  liuinor  is  ironica]. 

Irony  is  jesting  hidden  beneath  gravity,  while  humor  is  gravity 
concealed  behind  the  jest.  .  .  .  The  mind  uses  irony  when  it 
gravely  states  an  opinion  or  sentiment  which  is  the  opposite  of  its 
belief,  with  the  moral  purpose  of  showing  its  real  dis.sent  from  the 
opinion.  It  must,  therefore,  be  done  with  this  wink  from  the  pur- 
pose in  it,  so  that  it  may  not  pass  for  an  acquiescence  in  an  oppo- 


124  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.  [Part  II. 

site  sentiment.  It  may  be  done  so  well  as  to  deceive  even  the 
very  elect ;  and  perhaps  the  ordinaiy  mind  complains  of  irony  as 
wanting  in  straightforwardness.  There  is  a  moment  of  hesitation, 
when  the  mind  stoops  over  this  single  intention  with  a  double  ap- 
pearance, and  doubts  upon  which  to  settle  as  the  real  prey.  So 
that  only  carefully  poised  minds  with  the  falcon's  or  the  vulture's 
glance  can  always  discriminate  rapidly  enough  to  seize  the  point. 
In  this  moment  of  action  the  pleasure  of  irony  is  develo|>edt 
which  aiises  from  a  discovery  of  the  contrast  between  the  thing 
said  and  the  thing  intended.  And  this  jdeasure  is  heightened 
when  we  observe  the  contrast  between  the  fine  soul  who  means 
nobly  and  his  speaking  as  if  he  meant  to  be  ignoble.  Then  the 
ignoble  thing  is  doubly  condemned,  first,  by  having  been  briefly 
mistaken  to  be  the  real  opinion  of  the  speaker,  and  then  by  the 
flash  of  recognition  of  the  speaker's  sui)eriority.  .  .  .  In  matters 
which  are  morally  indiflerent  irony  is  only  a  jesting  which  is  dis- 
guised by  gravity,  as  when  we  apparently  agree  with  the  notions 
of  another  person  which  are  averse  from  our  own,  so  that  we  puzzle 
him  not  only  on  the  point  of  our  own  notion,  but  on  the  point  of 
his  own,  and  he  begins  to  have  a  suspicion  that  he  is  not  sound  in 
the  matter.  This  suspicion  is  derived  from  the  mind's  instinctive 
feeling  that  irony  is  a  ti*ait  of  a  superior  i^ei-son  who  can  aflford  to 
have  a  stock  of  original  ideas  with  which  he  tests  opinion,  and  who 
holds  them  so  securely  that  he  can  never  play  with  them  a  losing 
game.  .  .  .  Amanwhopretendstoliold  the  opposite  of  his  own 
belief  is  morally  a  liyjK)crite  until  we  detect  that  slight  touch  of 
banter  which  is  the  proof  of  genuine  irony.  Then  we  see  that  he 
is  honest  though  he  equivocates,  for  he  belies  himself  with  sin- 
cerity. A  man  who  can  afford  this  is  to  that  extent  superior  to  the 
man  who,  whether  right  or  wrong,  is  hopelessly  didactic,  and  in- 
capable of  commending  his  own  opinions  by  the  bold  ease  with 
which  he  may  deplore  them. — Weiss. 

Irony  assumes  on  the  part  of  the  hearer  a  certain 
acquaintance  with  the  speaker  which  gives  the  hearer  rea- 
son to  believe  that  the  sentiments  uttered  cannot  be  the 
genuine  belief  of  the  speaker.  Only  so  far  as  this  ac- 
quaintance is  rightfully  assumed  has  the  speaker  any  right 


Chap.  VIL)  IRONY.  125 

to  complain  if  his  irony  is  received  as  statement  of  fact, 
and  if  he  is  himself  rated  accordingly. 

Thus  if  an  artist  were  to  point  out  the  superiority  of  a  wretched 
wood-cut  over  a  fine  steel-engraving,  a  person  who  knew  the  wood- 
cut to  be  wretched  would  do  well  to  smile  over  the  criticism  as 
ironical.  But  if  a  stranger  should  gravely  utter  the  same  remarks, 
the  same  person  might  listen  respectfully,  having  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  the  stranger  was  less  of  an  ignoramus  than  he  repre- 
sented himself,  and  not  wishing  to  hurt  his  feelings  by  exposing 
his  stupidity. 

Genuine  humorists  are  occasionally  rebuked  by  the  grave  stare 
of  surprise  called  forth  by  a  remark  meant  to  be  received  as  ironi- 
cal. Especially  common  is  this  experience  with  children,  whose 
calm  glance  of  disapproval  is  often  more  effective  than  a  stinging 
reply. 

Irony  is  often  carried  beyond  decent  bounds.  When 
Sydney  Smith  explained  to  a  shocked  parishioner  that  he 
kept  his  dog  chained  because  it  had  acquired  an  unfortu- 
nate habit  of  eating  up  the  parish  boys,  buttons  and  all, 
his  humor  is  possibly  within  reason,  the  buttons  making  it 
at  least  thoroughly  obvious.  But  the  question  becomes 
doubtful  when  lie  informs  a  gentleman  that  he  has  one 
secret  wish — ^to  roast  a  Quaker ;  adding  that  it  may  be 
wrong,  that  the  Quaker  would  undoubtedly  suffer  acutely, 
but  that  every  one  has  his  tastes,  and  his  own  is  to  roast  a 
Quaker ;  one  would  satisfy  him,  only  one ;  but  it  was  one 
of  the  peculiarities  he  had  striven  against  in  vain,  and  he 
trusted  his  hearer  would  pardon  his  weakness. 

In  like  manner  Charles  Lamb,  asked  how  he  liked  babies, 
stammered:  " B-b-boiled."  A  modem ''humorist,"  plagiarizing 
the  irony  and  the  pun,  has  elaborated  them  into  a  paragraph  fit 
only  for  the  Fiji-islanders : 

In  every  age  and  every  clime  the  best  and  noblest  men  loved 
children.    Even  wicked  men  have  a  tender  spot  left  in  their  hard- 


126  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED  [Part  a 

ened  hearts  for  little  children.  The  great  men  of  the  earth  love 
them.  Dogs  love  them.  Kamahamekemokimodahroah,  the  king 
of  the  Cannibal  islands,  loves  them — rare,  and  no  gravy.  Ah,  yes, 
we  all  love  children. — Burlington  Hawkeye. 

Equally  revolting  is  the  following  : 

The  best  thing  to  make  grape-vines  grow  is  dogs ;  bury  *em 
right  down  among  the  roots.  Some  people  prefer  grandmothers 
and  their  other  relations.    But  gi*  me  dogs  and  cats. — Max  Adeler. 

Swift's  "  Modest  Proposal "  for  preventing  the  children 
of  the  poor  in  Ireland  from  being  burdensome,  and  for 
making  them  beneficial  by  using  them  for  food,  was  seri- 
ously quoted  and  condemned. 

The  impulse  to  irony  has  been  thus  explained : 

Suppose  I  venture  to  play  before  a  company  a  sonata  of  Beetho- 
ven, and  that  as  I  rise  a  lady  rather  gushingly  exclaims : 

**  Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you  ;  we  have  all  enjoyed  it  so  much  !  " 

Now,  if  I  have  played  to  my  own  fair  satisfaction,  I  simply  bow 
and  say  I  am  glad  to  have  given  pleasure.  If  the  s})eaker  is  a 
friend,  and  I  feel  that  I  have  done  particularly  well,  I  may  even 
unbosom  myself  to  the  extent  of  remarking  that  I  think  the  per- 
formance was  tolerable  for  me. 

If  I  have  been  nervous,  have  blundered,  have  played  much  be- 
low my  possibilities,  I  shall  probably  endeavor  to  suppress  my  an- 
noyance, accept  the  compliments  without  comment^  and  change  the 
subject. 

If  I  have  played  shockingly,  losing  all  grasp  of  the  spirit  of  the 
composition,  and  merely  striking  upon  the  piano  the  ivory  and  ebony 
equivalent  of  the  notes  on  the  score,  without  other  thought  than 
the  set  purpose  to  grit  my  teeth,  sit  firm  on  the  stool,  and  get  to 
the  end  of  the  piece  without  breaking  down,  I  shall  probably  look 
my  flatterer  steadily  in  the  eye  as  I  remark  that  she  is  very  kind 
to  say  so. 

But  if  in  addition  to  utter  failure  in  this  instance  I  see  that  to 
attempt  to  play  was  idiotic,  such  pieces  being  far  beyond  my  lim- 
ited accomplishments,  and  if  this  individual  discomfiture  sinks  in- 
distinguishable into  the  general  consciousness  of  ineffable  weak- 
ness and  stupidity,  which  alone  could  have  persuaded  me  to  try 


Chap.  VII]  THE  IMPULSE  TO  IROmr.  127 

what  a  well-constructed  automaton  would  know  I  was  incapable  to 
do,  so  that  I  long  to  get  into  the  attic  of  an  empty  house  and  snort 
at  myself,  then  I  shall  probably  smile  blandly  on  my  tormentor, 
assure  her  that  in  congratulating  mo  she  chooses  the  right  word, 
since  the  audience  should  share  the  honor  of  the  performance,  the 
finest  artistic  efforts  being  possible  only  in  a  company  of  artists, 
and  that  if  I  seemed  at  the  moment  to  be  inspired  it  was  because 
the  sympathy  and  appreciation  of  my  listeners  lifted  me  out  of  my- 
self, so  tliat  instead  of  playing  the  sonata  I  had  really  been  played 
by  it,  and  so  on. 

This  I  conceive  to  be  irony.  Whether  I  shall  so  turn  the  ex- 
pression as  to  show  my  companion  that  I  mean  it  for  irony  dei)end8 
uix)n  the  re8i>ect  I  have  for  her.  If  I  like  her  I  shall  very  likely 
intensify  my  expressions  until  she  recognizes  the  sarcasm,  even  if 
I  have  to  go  to  the  extent  of  promising  some  time  to  play  for 
her  a  piece  really  worthy  of  myself  and  the  audience — "  Silver 
Tlireads  among  the  Gold,"  for  instance.  But  if  I  think  her  silly 
or  malicious,  it  will  probably  relieve  me  a  little  to  have  her 
either  believe  all  that  I  say,  or  believe  that  I  believe  it,  in  which 
case  I  shall  gratluate  my  exaggeration  according  to  her  credulity. 

There  are  three  degrees  of  indignation. 

The  first,  indignation  pure  and  simple,  finds  sufficient  expres- 
sion in  strong  words  that  directly  manifest  the  feeling. 

Beyond  this  is  a  stage  where  language  is  inadeqiiate,  and  one 
turns  away  with  a  gesture,  a  shrug,  a  withering  glance.  Tliis  is 
scorn. 

But  there  is  a  step  beyond  scorn,  where  the  indignation  is  too 
bitter  for  silence,  and  must,  by  elaborating  and  exaggerating,  grind 
the  shameful  conviction  into  one's  soul,  gloating  over  its  artistic 
completeness.     This  is  irony. 

Banter  is  the  badinage  of  the  French,  irony  their  persiflage. 

Real  irony  seems  to  stand  midway  between  banter  and  sarcasm. 
Banter  is  the  playful  and  sarcasm  the  ferocious  form  of  irony. 
.  .  .  The  peculiar  mode  of  disputation  adopted  by  Socrates 
consisted  in  a  playful  entanglement  of  his  opi)oneut  in  admissions 
which,  while  appearing  to  support  and  strengthen  the  argument  of 
his  opponent,  in  reality  involved  him  in  an  absunl  conclusion. 
He  waa  made  to  take  the  bait^  all  unconscious  of  the  hook  by 


128  WIT  AND  HUMOR  DISTINGUISHED.  [Pabt  IL 

which  he  was  to  be  captured.  There  was  a  perfect  antagonism  b©« 
tween  the  appearance  and  the  fact — the  appearance  being  the  as- 
surance of  yictorj,  the  fact  the  certainty  of  defeat ;  and  the  defeat 
was  brought  about  by  the  use  of  the  very  weapons  on  which  the 
disputant  relied  for  success.  This  the  Greeks  called  tlfjuiPtia. — 
L.  A.  1742. 

A  true  sarcasm  is  like  a  sword-stick — it  appears  at  first  sight  to 
be  much  more  innocent  than  it  really  is,  till,  of  a  sudden,  there 
leaps  something  out  of  it — sharp,  and  deadly,  and  incisive,  which 
makes  you  tremble  and  recoil. — Sydney  Smith. 

In  polished  society  the  dread  of  being  ridiculous  models  every 
word  and  gesture  into  propriety,  and  produces  an  exquisite  atten- 
lion  to  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  others ;  it  curbs  the  sallies  of 
eccentricity,  it  recalls  the  attention  of  mankind  to  one  uniform 
standard  of  reason  and  common-sense. — Sydney  Smith. 

Hence,  too,  the  true  ludicrous  is  its  own  end.  When  serious 
satire  commences,  or  satire  that  is  felt  as  serious,  however  comi« 
cally  dressed,  free  and  genuine  laughter  ceases ;  it  becomes  sar- 
donic. — COLEBIDOE. 

Ridicule  is  not  only  confined  to  questions  of  less  moment,  but 
is  fitter  for  refuting  error  than  for  supporting  truth,  for  restraining 
from  wrong  conduct  than  for  inciting  to  the  practice  of  what  is 
right.  Nor  are  these  the  sole  restrictions  ;  it  is  not  properly  lev- 
elled at  the  false,  but  at  the  absurd  in  tenets ;  nor  can  the  edge  of 
ridicule  strike  with  equal  force  every  species  of  misconduct ;  it  is 
not  the  criminal  part  which  it  attacks,  but  that  which  we  denom- 
inate silly  or  foolish. — CAMPBEiiL,  i.  59.     See  also  64,  69. 

7.    Wit  is  »ponta7ieous  /  humor  iruiy  he  cultivated. 
If  you  have  real  wit  it  will  flow  spontaneously,  and  you 
need  not  aim  at  it ;  for  in  that  case  the  rule  of  the  Gospel 
is  reversed,  and  it  shall  prove,  seek  and  ye  shall  not  find. 
— Chesterfield. 

It  does  not,  however,  follow  that  no  study  is  to  be  given 
to  the  expression  of  wit.  The  idea  may  be  an  inspiration, 
but  not  necessarily  at  the  time  of  utterance.  Oftener  it  is 
conceived  in  solitude,  turned  and  polished  in  the  mind,  and 


Ohap  VII  ]     MISERIES  OP  A  PROFESSIONAL  WIT.  129 

then  held  in  readiness  for  a  fitting  occasion.  Only  by  this 
habit  of  perfecting  the  expression  of  a  happy  idea  can  be 
acquired  the  habit  of  expressing  such  ideas  with  precision 
and  pungency  when  they  are  struck  out  in  the  friction  of 
conversation.  When  the  idea  is  thus  conceived  there  ai-e 
few  even  of  those  noted  for  their  wit  who  do  not  pause  to 
turn  it  over  once  or  twice  in  their  minds  before  giving  it 
utterance. 

The  condition  of  putting  forth  ideas  in  order  to  be  witty  oper- 
ates much  in  the  same  salutary  manner  as  the  condition  of  finding 
rhymes  in  poetry ;  it  reduces  the  number  of  performers  to  those 
who  have  vigor  enough  to  overcome  incipient  difficulties,  and 
makes  a  sort  of  pro\'ision  that  that  which  need  not  be  done  at 
all  should  be  done  well  whenever  it  is  done.  For  we  may  ob- 
serve that  mankind  are  always  more  fastidious  about  that  which 
is  pleasing  than  they  are  about  that  which  is  useful. — Sydney 
SMirH. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  delve  for  sparkling  sayings,  to 
wrench  and  distort  ideas  and  words  for  the  sake  of  being 
funny,  is  as  futile  as  it  is  contemptible. 

Perpetual  aiming  at  wit  is  a  very  bad  jmrt  of  conversation.  It 
is  done  to  support  a  character  ;  it  generally  fails  ;  it  is  a  sort  of  in- 
sult to  the  company  and  a  restraint  on  the  speaker. — Swift. 

The  source  of  bad  writing  is  the  desire  to  be  something  more 
than  a  man  of  sense — the  straining  to  be  thouglit  a  genius,  and  it 
is  just  the  same  in  speech-making.  If  men  would  only  say  what 
they  have  to  say  in  plain  terms  how  much  more  eloquent  they 
would  be. — CSoLHRiDaB. 

Hence  to  be  recognized  and  invited  as  a  witty  man  in- 
volves a  responsibility  and  a  condition  of  service  few  would 
care  to  assume.  One  might  as  well  be  asked  as  a  news- 
pai)er  reporter,  or  to  play  the  violin  for  dancing.  Soon  after 
the  war  "  Petroleum  V.  Xasby  "  attempted  to  lecture,  and 
people  went  to  hear  iiim  expecting  to  be  amused.    The  lee- 


130  WIT  AND  HUll^R  DISTlNQtJiSHED.         [Part  It 

ture  was  well  enough  in  its  way,  but  it  was  a  serious  dis- 
cussion of  the  situation  and  people  felt  themselves  ag- 
grieved. People  do  not  look  for  instruction  to  those  hy 
whom  they  ai*e  accustomed  to  be  amused.  "  Professed 
wits,  though  they  are  generally  courted  for  the  amusement 
they  aflFord,  are  seldom  respected  for  the  qualities  they  pos- 


A  witty  man  is  a  dramatic  performer  ;  in  process  of  time  he  can 
no  more  exist  without  applause  than  he  can  exist  without  air  ;  if 
his  audience  be  small,  or  if  they  are  inattentive,  or  if  a  new  wit 
defrauds  him  of  anj  portion  of  his  admiration,  it  is  all  over  with 
him — he  sickens  and  is  extinguishe<l.  The  applauses  of  the  theatre 
in  which  he  performs  are  so  essential  to  him  that  he  must  obtain 
them  at  the  expense  of  decency,  friendship,  and  good  feeling.  It 
must  be  al^^'ays  probable,  too,  that  a  mere  wit  is  a  person  of  light 
and  frivolous  understanding.  His  business  is  not  to  discover  re- 
lations of  ideas  that  are  useful,  and  have  a  real  influence  in  life, 
but  to  discover  the  more  trifling  relations  that  are  only  amusing ; 
he  never  looks  at  things  with  the  native  eye  of  common  sense,  but 
is  always  gazing  at  the  world  through  a  Claude  Lorraine  glass— 
discovering  a  thousand  appearances  which  are  created  only  by  the 
instrument  of  inspection,  and  covering  every  object  with  factitious 
and  unnatural  colors.  In  short,  the  character  of  a  mere  wit  it  is 
impossible  to  consider  as  very  amiable,  very  respectable,  or  very 
safe. — Sydney  Smith. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  informs  us  that— 

It  is  a  very  serious  thing 

To  be  a  funny  man, 
and  most  of  those  who  have  gained  a  reputation  for  wit,  or  made  the  acquaintance  of 
one  of  those  pretematnrally  solemn  and  funereal-looking  individuals  whose  lives  are  made 
miserable  by  the  consciousness  that  the  public  looks  to  them  for  a  diurnal  dose  of  dis- 
guised physic  in  the  shape  of  jokes,  can  corroborate  the  genial  doctor's  statement.  The 
responsibility  entailed  by  a  reputation  for  being  a  perennial  font  of  spontaneous  humor 
!:<  enough  to  make  a  man  prematurely  aged.  He  must  constantly  maintain  a  high 
water  of  hilarity,  and  occasionally  surpass  himself.  Not  satisfied  with  his  professional 
efforts  in  this  line,  he  is  expected  to  scatter  jests  around  him  in  his  daily  walk  and  con- 
versation, to  write  neatly  turned  epigrams  for  young  ladieg'  albums,  and  to  scintillate  at 
social  entertainments. 

If  he  is  invited  out  to  dinner,  it  is  a  tacit  understanding  that  be  shall  pay  for  the  meal 


Chap.  VII]  PRACTICAL  50KES.  131 

by  his  hamor,  and  it  behooves  him  to  go  plentifully  provided  with  a  stock  of  extempore 
puna  and  conundrum*,  to  be  diHiKjnseil  at  appropriate  intervaU.  If  he  does  not  feel  up 
to  the  mark,  his  host  will  probably  stir  up  his  flagging  euerg.es  with  the  remark  that  he 
ix  unusually  dull,  or  some  other  pleasing  reminder  of  his  breach  of  the  implied  contract. 
A  fearful  warning  againxt  the  social  perils  of  a  humorist's  career  is  conveyed  by  the  anec- 
dote of  the  gentlemuu  who  habitually  earned  his  ilinner  by  his  wit,  aud  un  one  occHsion 
of  temporary  ab«ent-mintledne«w  wa<  recalled  to  a  sense  of  his  duties  to  society  by  the 
following  meange,  delivered  in  an  audible  tone  by  the  daughter  of  the  hostess:  "Mam- 
ma's oompllmenta  to  Mr. ,  and  she  wishes  to  know  when  be  is  going  to  begin  to  be 

funny."— iJorton  Traveler. 

PRACTICAL  JOKES. 
We  most  of  us  attempt  to  be  fimny  only  in  speech. 
Mimicry  and  contortion,  the  imitation  of  deformity  and 
the  antics  of  the  clown,  are  usually  left  to  hired  performers. 
Our  attempts  to  be  funny  are  in  the  direction  of  the  com- 
edy of  knowledge — that  is,  comedy  evolved  from  the  un- 
expected detection  of  definite  relations — which  we  call  wit ; 
or  of  the  comedy  of  ignorance — that  is,  comedy  evolved 
from  a  reference  to  indefinite  and  indefinable  relations — 
which  we  call  humor.  The  practical  joke  is  not  yet  ban- 
ished, but  it  is  justly  looked  upon  as  vulgar  and  stupid. 
We  may  yield  to  a  sudden  impulse  to  pull  the  chair  from 
behind  a  person  just  sitting  down,  but  we  are  ashamed 
both  of  the  act  and  of  the  di.spositlon  that  prompts  it. 
Such  acts,  like  a  horse-laugh,  may  show  exuberance  of  ani- 
mal spirits,  but  they  lower  the  perpetrator,  both  in  his  own 
esteem  and  in  that  of  his  companions. 

The  actor  Sothem  was  much  given  t  j  practical  jokes.  He  had 
once  invited  a  comiMuay  to  dinner,  and  thongli  one  of  the  intended 
guests  was  not  present  at  the  hour  ai>i>ointed  ho  insisted  uiwn  bo- 
ginning  the  meal.  Presently  the  belated  guest  was  heard  entering 
the  hall.  Sothem  instantly  pro]>osod  that  the  whole  comimny 
should  get  under  the  table.  Without  an  objection,  tnisting  to  the 
actor's  vni  for  some  comical  climax,  the  unsuspecting  guests 
hurriedly  crawled  upon  the  floor  and  awaited  results,  quite  unaware 
that  their  host  had  kept  his  seat  and  was  finishing  his  soup. 

The  tardy  guest  was  full  of  apologies.     "  Don't  mention  it,** 


139  PRACTICAL  JOKES.  [Part  II. 

said  Sothern,  "we  are  only  at  soup;  sit  down  and  be  helped." 
The  gentleman  did  so  with  a  puzzled  look  at  the  empty  chairs 
around  the  table.  "0,"  said  Sothem,  "you  miss  the  other  gen- 
tlemen. They  are  all  here,  but  for  some  inexplicable  reason  the 
moment  you  were  announced  they  all  crept  under  the  table.  "What 
they  are  doing  there  is  more  than  I  know." 

It  is  easier  to  imagine  than  to  describe  tlie  various  expressions 
upon  the  faces  of  the  \dctini8,  as,  one  by  one,  they  crawled  out  and 
resumed  their  chairs.  But  it  is  safe  to  say  they  were  all  cured  of 
participating  in  practical  jokes  proposed  by  Mr.  Sothem. 

An  ingenious  writer  has  propounded  what  he  calls  "  The  Gelatic 
System,*'  a  theory  of  the  history  of  laughter. 

a.  PrehumortMc  Age.— It  in  a  psjchological  fact  that  brntes  are  deroid  of  humor, 
and  that  savages  have  a  minimnm.  So  evenly  did  mind  and  humor  keep  pace  that  prior 
to  the  time  men  laughed  they  did  not  know  enough  to  keep  a  record  of  events.  This  age, 
then,  exactly  covered  what  are  known  a*  pre-historic  times. 

b.  Baeckanalian  Age.— The  innate  germ  of  mirth  d  mbtless  sprang  np  under  the  en- 
livening inflneaoe  of  wine.  The  type  of  this  age  was  drunken  silliness,  humor  of  tho 
lowest  order.  The  character  of  Thersitcs,  in  Sbakspere^s  '*  Troilus  and  Cressida,"  is  an 
anachronism,  for  Thendtes  could  not  hare  been  the  representative  humorist  of  his  time. 
Though  Bacchanalian  orgies  have  always  flourished,  the  epoch  of  history  characterized 
by  them  came  to  an  end  B.C.  650. 

c.  Burlesque  Age,  B.C.  550-.4.Z).  476.— Becoming  more  refined,  the  people  were  loath 
to  laugh  at  themselves,  and  sought  how  they  might  laugh  at  each  other.  Hence  the  rise 
of  comedy,  for  in  comedy  the  laugh  is  not  at  the  actor  himself,  but  at  the  person  he  rep- 
resents. The  Burlesque  Age  embraces  the  three  well  known  forms  of  comedy,  namely : 
the  Old  Comedy  (caricature),  the  Middle  Comedy  (criticismX  and  the  New  Comedy  (man- 
ners). Though  Greece  and  Rome  were  the  proprietors  of  comedy,  the  spirit  of  burlesque 
was  rife  everywhere,  even  among  the  Jews.  In  accordance  with  the  principle  of  the 
parallel  growth  of  mind  and  humor,  it  will  be  noticed  that  the  decline  of  humor  at  the 
time  of  the  Empire  was  exactly  proportional  to  the  decline  of  mental  activity. 

d.  Hunchback  Age,  A.D.  47H-750.— The  barbarians,  of  course,  had  verj'  shallow  con- 
ceptions of  the  ludicrous.  The  discrepancy  in  height  between  a  tall  and  a  short  man, 
or  any  personal  deformity,  was  enough  to  capsize  the  gravity  of  a  king.  A  dwarf  or  a 
hunchback  was  an  indispensable  member  of  a  prince's  retinue,  and  a  hunchback  was  a 
luxury  fit  for  an  emperor. 

e.  Idiot  Age,  A.D.  750-950.— Mental  deformity  was  discovered  to  be  more  comical 
than  physical,  and  diligent  search  was  made  for  idiots  to  add  the  crowning  grace  to  noble 
households.  First-class  idiots  were  of  course  reserved  for  the  king.  An  extra-stupid 
idiot  of  superior  imbecility  and  profound  obtuseness  is  said  to  have  lived  in  the  days  of 
Charles  the  Fat.     It  is  not  an  interesting  period  to  linger  over. 

f.  Clorcn  Age,  A.D.  950-1350.— The  reign  of  the  natural  idiot  was  followed  by  that  of 
the  artificial  idiot,  who,  though  called  like  his  predecessor  a  f<»ol,  was  really  a  keen  witted 
buffoon.  Touchstone,  in  "  As  You  Like  It,''  and  Wamba,  son  of  Witless,  in  "  Ivanhoc," 
are  representative  "  fools"  of  this  period,  when  wit  began  to  sparkle  as  not  before  since 
Terence.     Traces  of  the  Clown  Age  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  circus  and  the  pantomime. 


Chap.  VIL]  THE  GELATIC  SYSTEM.  133 

g,  Maaqutradtng  Age,  A.  D.  1360-1500.— People  now  became  eager  for  more  fun,  and 
■lildied  how  to  develop  their  own  creative  humor.  Humor  took  a  fanUstic  turn  :  every- 
body w«»  Boiied  with  an  Imitative  spirit,  and  straightway  sprang  up  the  idea  of  a  show, 
in  which  everybody  might  select  a  jmrt  and  play  it  to  suit  himself,  the  fun  being  propor- 
tional to  the  incongmonsness  of  the  action  with  the  character. 

h.  Dinner-Table  Age,  AD.  1600-1625.— The  next  type  of  humor  was  personal  ban- 
tering. Every  Falstaff  received  standing  invttatiouH  to  dinner,  and  was  welcome  at  all 
hoars.  Clubs  were  formed  who«e  object  was  the  evolution  of  jocularity  through  the  me- 
dium of  the  flowing  bowl,  the  prototypes  of  some  modern  organizations.  Royalty  itself 
tried  to  be  witty,  as  witness  the  jokes  of  King  Jami^  at  the  expense  of  Steenie. 

L  Boot  Age,  A.D.  1635-1850.— Humor  was  next  boiled  down  and  bottled  up  ready 
for  use  in  a  book.  Three  varieties  are  noticeable :  atrial,  8uch  as  the  shy,  delicate,  sen- 
sitive airiness  of  Addison,  Steele,  Goldsmith,  Hawthorne — often  so  deliciously  coy  as  to 
elude  laughter ;  grotesque,  the  characteristic  variety  of  a  motley  crowd,  led  first  by  Don 
Quixote,  and  afterward  by  Tom  and  Jerry;  satiric,  which  is  subdivided  into  (i)  satires 
on  man,  like  Swift's  Gulliver  and  B>Ton's  Don  Juan,  and  (^ii)  ratires  on  men,  i.e.,  not 
on  the  way  God  has  seen  fit  to  make  man,  but  on  men's  errors  and  foibles. 

k.  Newepoper  Age,  A.D.  1850.— Though  the  homorouH  book  is  still  written,  and  al- 
ways will  be  written,  it  no  longer  typifies  a  historic  era.  Indeed,  remnants  of  all  former 
•gM  are  seen  to-day.  Carousals  are  common  ;  the  comedian  mill  pries  open  the  mouth  ; 
Cide-shows  exhibit  among  other  wonderful  curiosities  dwarfs  and  idiots ;  harlequin  still 
tickles  the  rib? :  masquerades  and  carnivals  are  still  popular,  especially  in  romance  coun- 
tries ;  jests  pass  from  lip  to  lip,  and  riang,  an  oflf  shoot  of  the  Dinner-Table  Age,  is  a  weed 
of  luxurious  growth  :  you  can  sit  in  solitude  and  smile  at  the  vagaries  of  your  favorite 
author;  but  the  funny  newspaper  man  is  supreme.  He  is  the  Jupiter  of  the  humorous 
heavens  and  earth,  and  every  day  yon  can  see  his  lightnings  and  bear  his  thunder. 

DANGERS  OF  WIT  AND  HUMOR. 

"  See  what  a  coiiimand  of  langiiasce  those  Irish  orators 
have,"  remarked  some  one  to  Archbisliop  Whately.  "  See 
rather  what  command  language  has  of  them,"  was  the 
reply. 

Wit,  of  all  powers  the  most  envied  and  dreaded,  be- 
comes a  curse  when  it  forgets  its  legitimate  service  as  one 
of  man's  agencies  of  usefulness.  Humor,  which  lightens 
every  load,  illumines  every  darkness,  cheers  ever}'  heart, 
diverts  every  sorrow,  which  has  well  been  called  the  great 
lubricator  of  life,  mast  yet  remain  subordinate  to  judgment 
and  duty,  or  it  will  prey  like  a  fungus,  rotting  to  the  core 
what  it  seems  only  to  adoni. 

For  humor  is,  after  all,  a  \iv\v  of  liic  that,  distorts.  It 
may  be  diverting  from  its  novelty  to  have  a  Mark  Tapley 


134  DANGERS  OF  WIT  AND  HUMOR.  [Part  It 

exult  in  his  master's  wretched  plights  because  it  makes  it 
creditable  to  be  jolly  ;  but  after  all  it  is  better  to  be  wise 
enough  to  avoid  wretched  plights.  A  view  of  life  that 
makes  our  wretchedness  less  by  dwelling  on  the  disadvan- 
tages of  those  who  are  happy  will,  if  carried  too  far,  lead 
us  to  underestimate  the  distance  between  wretchedness 
and  happiness,  and  thus  remove  the  spur  to  ambition. 

Humor  is  one  of  the  elements  of  genins ;  but  if  it  predomi- 
nate it  becomes  a  makeshift.  Humor  accompanies  the  decadence 
of  art,  which  it  destroys  and  annihilates. — Ogethb. 

Especially  is  it  tlie  tendency  of  humor  to  break  down 
the  distinctions  of  right  and  wrong. 

Is  there  some  one  humorific  point  common  to  all  that  can  be 
called  humorous  ?  I  am  not  prepared  to  answer  this  fully,  even 
if  my  time  i>ermitted ;  but  I  think  there  is,  and  that  it  consists  in 
a  certain  reference  to  the  general  and  the  universal,  by  which  the 
finite  great  is  brought  into  identity  with  the  little,  or  the  little 
with  the  finite  great,  so  as  to  make  both  nothing  in  comparison 
with  the  infinite.  The  little  is  made  great,  and  the  great  little,  in 
order  to  destroy  both  ;  because  all  is  equal  in  contrast  with  the  in- 
finite. .  .  .  My  de\al  was  to  be,  like  Goethe's,  the  universal 
humorist,  who  should  make  all  things  vain  and  nothing  worth  by 
a  perpetual  collation  of  the  gi-eat  with  the  little  in  the  presence  of 
the  infinite. — Coleridge. 

If  we  wish  to  find  a  passage  from  irony  to  humor  we  should 
have  to  look  for  it  in  cases  where  good-nature  assumes  the  positive 
attribute  of  impartiality,  because  humor  is  a  kind  of  disposition 
to  adopt  the  whole  of  human  nature,  fuse  all  its  distinctions,  tol- 
erate all  its  infirmities,  and  assemble  vice  and  misery  to  receive 
rations  of  good  cheer. — Weiss. 

All  this  is  wrong  and  harmful.  So  far  as  humor  helps 
us  to  bear  the  evils  we  cannot  help  it  is  a  blessing ;  but 
let  us  beware  lest  it  make  us  content  with  imperfections 
that  we  might  remove,  faults  that  we  might  cure,  apathy 


Chap.  Vll]        PURPOSE  vs.  ACCOMPLISHMENT.  136 

that  unnerves  us.  In  comparison  with  the  infinite,  human 
accomplishment  is  indeed  at  highest  but  insignificant. 
But  human  pwjtoae  has  all  the  possibilities  of  infinitude 
itself,  and  man  will  approach  the  infinite  only  as  he  cleaves 
fast  to  moral  distinctions. 

South  MotJHTAiN,  Catskuxs,  September  8, 1867. 
How  broad  and  beautiful  a  belt 

Of  landscape  doth  the  eye  attain  ; 
The  hills  and  vales  tO}^ther  melt 

Into  a  low  and  level  plain. 

Tkiu  mtn  are  great  ana  men  are  email 

In  human  eires  ; 
So  puny  all,  that  none  look  tall 

Seen  from  the  tkiee. 

Tet  gleam  the  colors  fresh  and  bright, 

The  fields  art  i^reen  ;  the  Hudson  bine; 
The  harvests  bathe  in  golden  light ; 

Diamonds  sparkle  in  the  dew. 

So  have  the  acts  of  humankind 

Diettncttve  hue ; 
Noble  from  baae  ie  clear  d^ned 

In  higheet  view. 

Sydney  Smith  concludes:  "  I  wish,  after  all  I  have  said 
about  wit  and  humor,  that  I  could  satisfy  myself  of  their 
good  effects  upon  the  character  and  disposition ;  but  I  am 
convinced  the  probable  tendency  of  both  is  to  corrupt  the 
understanding  and  the  heart."  "  In  cheerful  souls,"  says 
Novalis,  "  there  is  no  wit  Wit  is  a  disturbance  of  the 
equipoise." 

But  this  is  true  only  where  wit  and  humor  have  undue 
predominance.  Says  Hazlitt,  "Man  is  the  only  animal 
that  laughs  and  weeps,  for  he  is  the  only  animal  that  is 
struck  with  the  difference  between  what  things  are  and 
what  they  ought  to  be."  When  the  perception  of  this 
difference  causes  laughter  alone,  humor  is  indeed  corrod- 
ing,    lie  who  can  make  sport  of  sins  has  defective  notions 


136  WIT  AND  HUMOR.  [Pabt  IL 

as  to  their  enormity,  and  leads  others  to  think  too  lightly 
of  committing  them. 

What  more  plain  nonsense  can  there  be  than  to  be  earnest  in 
jest,  to  be  continual  in  divertisement,  or  constant  in  pastime,  to 
make  extravagance  all  our  play,  and  sauce  all  our  diet?  Is  not 
this  plainly  the  life  of  a  child  that  is  ever  busy  yet  never  hath 
anything  to  do  ?  or  the  life  of  that  mimical  brute  which  is  always 
active  in  playing  uncouth  and  unlucky  tricks,  which,  could  it 
speak,  might  surely  pass  well  for  a  professed  wit  ? — Barbow. 

We  see  in  neeilleworks  and  embroideries  it  is  more  pleasing  to 
have  a  lively  work  upon  a  sad  and  solemn  ground,  than  to  have  a 
dark  and  melancholy  work  upon  a  lightsome  ground  ;  judge,  there- 
fore, of  the  pleasure  of  the  heart  by  the  pleasure  of  the  eye. — 
Baoon. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Need  of  relaxation,  p.  92. 
Theories  of  the  ludicrous,  p.  93. 

Hobbes,  p.  93  ;  Haven,  p.  93  ;  Hazlitt,  p.  94  ;  Quintilian,  p.  94 ; 
Sidney,  p.  94 
Laughter  not  necessarily  scornful,  pp.  94-97. 
Herbert  Spencer's  theory,  pp.  97-99. 

Does  not  account  for  the  pleasure,  pp.  99,  100. 
Aristotle's  theory,  p.  101. 

The  incongruous  and  the  inconvenient,  p.  101. 
The  ludicrous  not  an  absolute  relation,  p.  102. 
Sacred  subjects  not  to  be  trifled  with,  p.  103. 
Why  the  ludicrous  gives  pleasure,  p.  104. 
The  theory  of  pleasure,  104. 
Perception  of  the  ludicrous,  105. 
Not  universal,  p.  105. 
Not  to  be  acquired,  p.  106. 
Value  not  factitious,  p.  107. 
Not  to  be  obtruded,  p.  108. 
Enjoyed  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty,  p.  109, 
Conventional  jokes,  p.  110. 
American  humor,  pp.  111-113. 


Chap.  VIL]  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  137 

Wit  and  humor  distinguished,  p.  113. 

1.  Humor  expected,  wit  unexpected,  p.  114. 

2.  Humor  continuous,  wit  instantaneous,  p.  115. 

8.  Humor  may  appear  in  action,  wit  only  in  word,  p.  -116. 

4.  Wit  may  be  imaginative,  humor  involves  character,  p.  116. 

Puns,  p.  117. 

5.  Humor  lies  in  sentiment,  wit  in  understanding,  p.  122. 

6.  Humor  is  based  on  sympathy,  wit  may  be  without  it,  p.  122. 

Irony,  p.  123. 

7.  Humor  may  be  cultivated,  wit  is  spontaneous,  p.  128. 

Disadvantages  of  being  considered  witty,  p.  129. 
Practical  jokes,  p   131. 

The  Gelatic  system,  p.  132. 
Dangers  of  wit  and  humor,  p.  133. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

What  do  you  think  of  Sothern's  joke  (page  131)  ? 

Are  the  stories  on  pages  71,  88,  229,  and  253,  witty  or  humorous  ? 


CHAPTER  Vm. 

EGOTISM. 

Thb  pelt  ci  todety  is  epitlitB.  Thoe  are  dnil  and  bright,  mend  and  nrofane,  ooarw 
and  fine  egotista.  ^Tis  a  diaeaae  that,  like  inflnenxa,  falls  on  all  oonstituUnp.s.  In  the 
diaeaae  known  to  physicians  as  chorea  the  patient  sometimes  tiims  round  and  continues  to 
spin  slowlj  on  one  spot.  Is  egottsm  a  metaphysical  variety  of  this  malady  ?  The  man 
mns  round  a  ring  formed  by  his  own  talenl,  falls  into  an  admiration  of  it,  nnd  loses  rela- 
tion to  the  world.  It  is  a  tendency  in  all  minds.  One  of  ite  annoying  forms  is  a  craving 
for  sympathy.  The  sofTerers  parade  their  miseries,  tear  the  lint  from  their  bruises,  reveal 
their  indictable  crimes,  that  yon  may  pity  them.  They  like  sickness,  I>ecau8e  physical 
pain  will  extort  some  show  of  interest  from  the  bystanders,  as  we  have  seen  children  who, 
finding  themselves  of  no  acooont  when  grown  people  come  in,  will  cough  till  they  shake  to 
draw  attention.— EiCBBSON. 

In  considering  the  relation  to  conversation  of  one's  in- 
dividuality, egotism,  which  is  properly  simply  the  tendency 
to  allude  to  one's  self,  should  be  distinguished  from  self- 
conceit  and  vanity. 

Self-Conceit  denotes  a  narrow  mind  and  a  selfish 
disposition.  It  is  independent  of  the  opinion  of  others,  at- 
tributing censure  to  envy  and  indifference  to  lack  of  per- 
ception. Hence  it  is  not  prompted  to  do  kindly  offices  in 
order  to  win  good  opinion.  It  feels  no  gratitude  toward 
those  who  bestow  favors,  receiving  such  attention  as  a  right- 
ful perquisite.  It  is  incapable  of  sympathy,  of  love,  of  any 
real  fellowship. 

Nothing  so  haughty  and  assuming  as  ignorance  where  self- 
conceit  bids  it  set  up  for  infallible. — South. 

Vanity  is  a  weakness,  but  is  less  selfish.  It  is  depend- 
ent upon  the  opinion  of  others,  and  is  helpless  when  neg- 
lected.    Hence  it  will  cheerfully  make  sacrifice  for  othei's 


Chap,  villi  VANITY.  139 

which  is  likely  to  secure  their  good-will.  It  abounds  in 
gratitude  for  favors,  is  quick  to  sympathize,  as  eager  to  lov(» 
as  to  be  loved,  and  steadfast  in  fellowship  so  long  as  it  fet'l  > 
itself  apj)reciated. 

Infuse  vanity  into  such  a  man  as  Goklsmitli  and  it  adds  a  child- 
like charm  to  his  character ;  it  gives  a  tinge  of  delightful  humor 
to  his  writings,  and  enables  his  friends  to  love  him  the  more  heart- 
ily because  they  have  the  right  to  pay  themselves  by  a  little  kindly 
contempt.  Make  a  Byron  vain  and  half  hi;4  magnificent  force  of 
mind  will  be  was:ed  by  silly  efforts  to  attract  the  notice  of  his  con- 
temporaries by  attacking  their  best  feelings  and  affecting  (a  su- 
perfluous task)  vices  which  he  does  not  possess.  The  vanity  of  a 
Wordsworth  enables  him  to  treat  with  a  profound  disdain  tho 
sneers  of  Edinburgh  reviewei's  and  the  dull  indifference  of  tho 
mass  of  his  readers;  but  it  encourages  him  also  to  become  a  liter- 
ary sloven,  to  spoil  noble  thought  by  grovelling  language,  and  to 
subside  into  supino  ob^tructiveness.*  Conversely  tho  vanity  of 
a  Poi>e  makes  him  suffer  unspeakable  tortures  from  tho  stings  of 
critics  comimred  to  whom  Jeffrey  was  a  giant,  condescend  to  tho 
meanest  artifices  to  catch  the  applause  of  his  contemiwraries,  and 
hunger  and  thirst  for  the  food  wliich  "Wordsworth  roj(^cted  with 
contempt.  But  it  also  enables  liim  to  become  within  his  own  lim- 
its the  most  exquisite  of  artists  in  words,  to  increase  in  skill  as  he 
increased  in  years,  and  to  coin  phrases  for  a  distant  posterity  even 
out  of  the  most  trifling  ebullition  of  passing  spite.  Tho  vanity  of 
a  Milton  excites  something  approaching  to  awe.  Tho  vanity  of  a 
Congreve  excites  our  rightful  contempt  Vanity  seems  to  be  at 
once  the  source  of  the  greatest  weaknesses  and  of  the  greatest 
achievements.  To  write  a  history  of  vanity  would  be  to  write 
the  history  of  the  greatest  men  of  our  race,  for  soldiers  and  states- 
men have  been  as  vain  as  poets  and  artists.  Chatham  was  vaiii ; 
Wolfe  was  vain  ;  Nelson  was  childishly  vain,  and  tho  groat  Nai)ol- 
oon  was  as  vain  as  the  vainest. — Com  hill  Mtifjuzlne, 

There  are  some  men  who  need  praise  as  much  as  flowers  need 
snnshine.  Yon  cannot  get  the  best  work  out  of  them  without  it. 
It  is  vain  to  preach  to  them  self-reliance ;  they  need  to  be  propped 

•ThitttaoaldbeattritmtadtmtlMrtoKlf-coDoeitthun  t<>  vanity. 


140  EGOTISM.  [Pabt  II. 

and  biittres-sed  by  others*  opinions — to  bo  biuced  by  encourage- 
ment and  sympathy.  •*  Praise  me,  Mr.  rojw,"  said  Sir  Gtodfrey 
Kneller  to  Ihe  i>oet  of  Twickenham  as  the  latter  sat  for  his  por- 
trait ;  "you  know  I  can*t  do  as  well  as  I  should  unless  you  praise 
me.'*  Bidiculous  as  the  i-cquest  may  seem,  who  doubts  that  the 
crooked  little  poet  got  a  better  portrait  by  complying  with  it? 
And  when  was  praise  more  efficacious,  when  did  it  yield  a  richer 
harvest,  tlian  when  bestowed  on  the  sickly  iK>et  himself  ? 

Bulwer,  in  his  essay  on  **The  Efficacy  of  Praise"  in  "Caxton- 
iana,"  observes  that  every  actor  knows  how  a  cold  house  chills  him, 
and  how  necessary  to  the  full  suitainment  of  a  great  part  is 
the  thunder  of  applause.  He  states  that  the  elder  Eean,  when 
he  was  performing  at  some  theatre  in  this  country,  came  to  the 
manager  when  the  play  was  half  over  and  said  :  "  I  can't  go  on  the 
stage  again,  sir,  if  the  pit  keeps  its  hands  in  its  pockets.  Such  an 
audience  wotdil  extinguish  JSttia.**  Upon  this  the  manager  told  the 
audience  that  Mr.  Kean,  not  being  accustomed  to  the  severe  intel- 
ligence of  American  citizens,  mistook  their  silent  attention  for 
courteous  disappointment,  and  that  if  they  did  not  applaud  Mr. 
Eean  as  he  was  accustomed  to  he  applauded  they  could  not  see 
Mr.  Kean  act  as  he  was  accustomed  to  act.  Of  course  the  audience 
took  the  hint,  and  as  their  fervor  rose  so  rose  the  genius  of  the 
actor,  and  their  applause  contributed  to  the  triumj^hs  it  rewarded. 
— Mathews. 

Reference  to  One's  Self. — So  serious  a  fault  is 
egotism  that  it  is  a  common  precept  to  avoid  all  allusion  to 
one's  self.  "  Don't  speak  of  yourself  at  all/'  luns  the  old 
proverb,  "for  if  you  speak  ill  of  yourself  people  will  be- 
lieve you  and  despise  you  for  the  fact ;  and  if  you  speak 
well  they  will  disbelieve  you  and  despise  jou  for  the  He.'' 

But  it  is  possible  to  speak  of  one's  self  without  such 
boasting  as  induces  disbelief  or  such  detraction  as  belittles. 
No  subject  of  conversation  is  more  natural  or  more  inter- 
esting. 

Egotism  is  to  be  condemned  only  when  it  offends  against  time 
and  place,  as  in  a  history  or  an  epic  poem.      To  censure  it  in  a 


Chap.  VIII. J  EGOTISM  SELDOM  FRANKNESS.  141 

monody  or  a  sounet  ia  almost  as  absurd  as  to  complain  of  a  circle 
for  being  round.  ...  If  I  could  judge  others  by  myself  I 
should  not  hesitate  to  affirm  that  the  most  interesting  passages  in 
all  writings  are  those  in  which  a  writer  develops  his  own  feelings. 

— CoiiEBIDOE. 

Talk  About  an  Imaginary  Self. — Th«  fact  is, 
the  egotism  which  society  so  justly  condemns  is  not 
talk  about  one's  real  self,  but  talk  about  a  desirable  self 
— not  about  what  we  really  are,  but  about  what  we  want 
our  friends  to  think  we  are.  The  egotist" more  or  less  con- 
sciously conceals  the  real  John,  and  patches  up  by  hints 
as  to  his  antecedents,  his  history,  his  courage,  his  probity, 
liis  tenderness,  his  regard  from  others,  an  ideal  John  that 
shall  compel  admiration.  We  feel  the  contrast  when  in  a 
moment  of  delight  or  discouragement  he  blunders  upon  a 
genuine  revelation.  So  close-locked  does  every  man  try  to 
keep  the  secret  of  his  life  that  few  can  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  peer  in  when  he  opens  the  lid ;  as  few  have  the 
grace  to  listen  patiently  while  he  describes  without  open- 
ing it  the  wonderful  things  he  would  like  to  have  us  believe 
it  contains. 

It  is  in  this  opening  the  lid  that  the  charm  of  frankness  consists. 
To  speak  without  reserve  of  what  most  persons  conceal  indicates  a 
consciousness  of  general  purity  of  life  and  integiity  of  purpose  that 
inspires  confidence  and  prompts  to  similar  avowal.  Dr.  Johnson, 
paying  court  to  Mrs.  Porter,  told  her  plainly  that  he  was  of  mean 
extraction,  that  he  had  no  money,  and  that  one  of  his  uncles  had 
been  hanged.  She  as  frankly  replied  that  she  had  no  more  money 
than  he,  and  that  though  none  of  her  relatives  ever  had  been 
hanged  she  ha<l  several  who  ought  to  be. 

The  desire  to  please,  to  shine  ^^ith  a  jmrticularly  engaging  lus- 
tre, to  draw  a  fascinating  picture  of  one's  self,  banishes  from  con- 
versation all  that  is  sterling  and  most  of  what  is  humorous.  As 
soon  as  a  strong  current  of  mutual  admiration  begins  to  flow 
the  human  interest  triumphs  entirely  over  the  intellectual,  and 


143  EGOTISM.  tPART  n. 

the  commerce  of  words,  consciously  or  not,  becomes  secondary  to 
the  commercing  of  eyes.  Each  simply  waits  iii>on  the  other  to  be 
admired,  and  the  talk  dwindles  into  platitudinous  piping. — Cam- 
hill  Magaziyte. 

Frank  Self-revealment  Interesting. — It  is  sel- 
dom that  we  are  indifferent  to  genuine  confession,  but  it  is 
very  seldom  that  we  hear  it. 

The  egotist  does  not  always  eulogize  himself  directly.  He  may 
make  you  father-confessor  and  acknowledge  to  you  a  fault  or  habit 
that  is  exceedingly  dishonorable  to  him — "  he  cannot  help  it ;  it  is 
his  way."  Perha2>s  he  has  resolved  at  all  hazards  to  take  a  promi- 
nent part  in  conversation,  even  though  it  be  at  the  expense  of  his 
character  and  the  comfort  of  the  comimny.  Else  he  talks  of  his 
faults  in  order  to  demonstrate  his  sincerity  or  some  other  \-irtue. 
"  He  is  none  of  your  dissemblers  ;  he  must  tell  you  all."  Another 
confesses  his  crimes  on  purpose  to  show  us  his  shrewdness,  tact, 
or  courage  in  committing  them,  in  escaping  detection  or  punish- 
ment ;  or  the  generosity  or  high-mindedness  with  which  he  made 
amends  for  them  ;  thus  does  he  glory  in  his  shame. — Hervey. 

Egotism  not  Eradicated  by  Silence. — Egotism 
cannot  be  overcome  or  concealed  by  abstaining  from  men- 
tion of  self.  The  writers  of  Port  Royal  were  so  disgusted 
with  the  predominance  of  the  pronoun  /  in  contemporary 
writings  that  they  uniformly  shunned  it  as  savoring  of 
self-conceit.  But  it  is  not  the  use  of  this  pronoun  that 
betrays  the  egotist — it  is  the  feeling  that  prompts  its  ut- 
terance, as  betrayed  by  the  connection  and  the  tone. 

A  false  humility,  or,  in  the  world's  parlance,  a  false  modesty,  is 
as  criminal  and  offensive  as  pride,  for  it  is  that  pride  in  disguise. 
Pride  may  not  prompt  the  frequent  use  of  the  pronoun ;  on  the 
other  hand,  egotism  in  the  first  degree  is  often  perpetrated  when 
there  is  a  careful  avoidance  of  it ;  and  in  general  lie  who  makes  a 
show  of  great  pains  to  keep  aloof  from  a  fault  does  thereby  declare 
that  he  knows  himself  to  be  addicted  to  it.  Some  of  the  vainest 
of  moi-tals  are  often  heard  to  say,  **  without  boasting,"  •'  I  do  not 


Chap.  VIII.  J  SELF-ASSERTION.  148 

like  to  pfraiso  myself,"  "Pardon  me  for  Bpeaking  of  myself.** 
Again  there  are  verj'  humble  characters  who  may  use  this  kind  of 
apologetical  phrases.  Let  us  bewai-o  of  words ;  nothing  is  more 
common  than  to  bo  misled  by  them. — Hervey. 

All  groat  men  not  only  know  their  business,  but  they  usually 
know  tluit  they  know  it,  and  are  not  only  right  in  their  main  opin- 
ions, but  they  usually  know  that  they  are  light  in  them  ;  only  they 
don't  think  much  of  themselves  on  that  account.  Arnolfo  known 
that  he  can  build  a  good  dome  at  Florence  ;  Albert  Diirer  wTitea 
calmly  to  one  who  had  found  fault  with  his  work,  **  It  cannot  be 
])etter  done."  Sir  Isaac  Newton  knows  that  he  has  worked  out  a 
problem  or  two  that  would  have  puzzled  anybody  else  ;  only  they 
do  not  expect  their  fellow-men  therefore  to  fall  down  and  worship 
them.  They  have  a  curious  undersense  of  jxywerlessness,  feeling 
t  hat  the  greatness  is  not  in  them  but  through  them ;  tliat  they 
could  not  1)6  any  other  thing  than  God  made  them.  And  they  see 
something  divine  and  God-made  in  every  other  man  they  moot,  and 
they  are  endlessly,  foolishly,  and  incredibly  merciful.  — Ritskin. 

The  diflSculty  is  to  be  certain  that  this  i)ositiveness  of  slatement 
has  the  warrant  of  genius  behind  it.  Mr.  Ruskin  himself  has 
used  much  language  tlmt  only  very  great  assumnco  in  his  own 
judgment  could  waiTant.  Thus  in  reply  to  some  one  who  objected 
to  the  contempt  with  which  ho  had  8ix)ken  of  such  men  as  John 
Stuart  Mill  and  Goldwin  Smith,  complaining  that  the  disciples  of 
each  men  are  **  hurt  and  made  angry  when  words  they  do  not  like 
are  used  of  their  leadere,"  he  answered  : 

"  Well,  my  «lwir  lir,  I  ■olcmnly  believe  that  the  leas  they  like  it  the  better  my  work 
haa  bwn  dune,  fur  yua  will  find  if  you  think  deeply  uf  it  that  the  chief  of  all  the  cone* 
of  this  unhappy  asro  i>«  the  nnivenal  babble  of  its  fooU  and  of  the  flock*  that  follow  them, 
rrndering  the  quiet  voiooi  of  the  wine  men  of  all  paxt  time  inaudible.  This  ix,  ftrat,  the 
mtiilt  of  the  invention  of  printing,  and  of  the  ea«y  power  ai;d  extreme  plea«ure  to  vain 
|ter8»n«  of  HL-eing  themaelves  in  print.  When  it  took  a  twelve-mcnith'a  hanl  work  to  make 
a  iiinglo  volume  legible  men  oonaldercd  a  little  th«  difference  Iwtween  one  bt^k  and  an- 
other :  btit  now  when  not  «»nly  anybody  enn  Rct  thom«elve«  made  legible  thromrh  any 
quantity  of  volume*  in  a  week,  but  the  doing  m>  be(»meR  a  means  of  living  to  them,  and 
they  can  (111  their  stomach*  with  the  foolUn  foam  of  th^lr  Up*,  the  univenwl  peotilenoe  of 
falM>hooii  fl  Is  the  mind  of  the  world  as  cicadaM  do  olive  leavex.  and  the  flrat  neoandty  ct 
oar  moral  guvemment  is  to  extricate  from  among  the  inscotile  noiHO  the  few  books  and 
word*  that  are  divine.  And  this  haa  tMon  my  main  work  from  my  youth  u|>— not  oaring 
to  sp«ak  my  own  wordK,  but  to  discern,  whether  in  iviititini;  or  M-ripture,  what  is  eternally 
good  and  vital,  ami  to  strike  awsy  from  it  pitilcwsly  what  ix  worthless  and 
that  now,  being  old  and  thoroogbly  pracUaetl  in  thla  trade,  I  know  aitlMr  ol  m  | 


144  EGOTISM.  fPAKT  It 


brxdc,  or  a  speech  qoite  Mcnreljr,  whether  it  is  good  or  not,  m  *  cheeeemonger  knows 
cheese^  and  I  have  not  the  least  mind  to  try  to  make  wise  men  oat  of  fools,  ot  silk  purses 
oat  of  HOWS*  earn ;  bat  mj  one  swift  husiness  is  to  brand  them  of  base  quality  and  get 
them  out  of  the  way,  and  I  do  not  car*  a  oobweb's  weight  wh^her  I  hurt  the  followers  of 
these  men  or  not — totally  ignoring  them  and  caring  only  to  get  the  facts  oonoeming  the 
men  themselves  fairly  rounded  and  stated  for  the  people  whom  I  have  real  power  to 
teach.  And  for  qualiflcati<m  of  statement  there  is  neither  time  nor  need.  Of  course 
there  are  few  writers  capable  of  obtaining  any  public  attention  who  have  not  some  day 
or  other  said  something  rational ;  and  many  of  the  foolishest  of  them  are  the  amiablest, 
and  have  all  sorts  of  minor  qnalitica  of  most  reoommendable  cdiaracter — propriety  of  dio- 
tioD,  suavity  of  temper,  benercdenoe  of  disposition,  wide  acquaintance  with  literature,  and 
what  not  But  the  one  thing  I  have  to  assert  oonoeming  them  is  that  they  are  men  of 
eternally  worthless  inteHectnal  quality,  who  never  ooght  to  have  spoken  a  word  in  this 
world,  or  to  have  been  heard  in  it  out  of  their  family  circles ;  and  whose  books  are  merely 
so  much  floating  fog-bank,  which  the  first  breath  of  sound  public  health  and  sense  will 
blow  back  into  its  native  ditches  forever.** 

"  There  are  some  great  men,"  says  Coleridge,  "  who 
actually  Hatter  themselves  that  they  abhor  all  egotism, 
and  never  betray  it  in  their  writings  or  discourse.  But 
watch  them  narrowly,  and  in  the  greater  number  of  cases 
you  will  find  their  thoughts  and  feelings  and  mode  of  ex- 
pression saturated  with  the  passion  of  contctiipt,  which  is 
the  concentrated  mnegar  of  egotisTnP 

The  same  author  makes  frequent  reference  to  diseased  forms  of 
egotism,  which  seemed  to  him  a  fascinating  study.     For  instance  : 

There  is  one  species  of  egotism  which  is  truly  disgusting  ;  not 
that  which  leads  us  to  communicate  our  feeling  to  others,  but  that 
which  would  reduce  the  feelings  of  others  to  an  identity  with 
our  own. — Preface  to  Poetical   Works. 

For  some  mighty  good  soi-t  of  people  too  there  is  not  seldom 
a  sort  of  solemn  saturnine,  or,  if  you  will,  ursine  vanity,  that  keeps 
itself  alive  by  sucking  the  paws  of  its  own  self-importance.  And 
as  this  high  sense,  or  rather  sensation,  of  their  own  value  is  for 
the  most  part  grounded  on  negative  qualities,  so  they  have  no  bet- 
ter means  of  preserving  the  same  but  by  negatives — that  is,  by  not 
doing  or  saying  anything  that  might  be  put  down  for  fond,  silly, 
or  nonsensical ;  or  (to  use  their  own  phrase)  by  never  forgetting 
themselves,  which  some  of  their  acquaintances  are  uncharitable 
enough  to  think  the  most  worthless  object  they  could  be  employed 
in  remembering.  —  Tlie  Improvisatore, 


Chap.  VIIIJ  RETICENCE  146 

Silence  does  not  always  mark  wisdom.  I  was  at  dinner,  some 
time  ago,  in  company  with  a  man  who  listened  to  me  and  said 
nothing  for  a  long  time  ;  but  he  nodded  his  head,  and  I  thought 
him  intelligent.  At  length,  toward  the  end  of  the  dinner,  some 
apple-dumplings  were  placed  on  the  table,  and  my  man  had  no 
sooner  seen  them  than  he  burst  forth  with—"  Them's  the  jockeys 
for  me."  I  wish  Spurzheim  could  have  examined  his  head. — 
Table  Talk. 

Query,  whether  Coleridge  would  have  been  so  ready  to  assume 
the  man's  intelligence  if  he  had  shaken  his  head. 

Talk  of  One's  Self  an  Introduction  to  Con- 
versation.— Between  strangers  a  frank  and  easy  ref- 
erence to  one's  own  purposes  and  tastes  is  among  tlie 
easiest  approaches  to  conversation. 

A  lady  by  mentioning  her  own  movements  or  arrangements,  or 
by  referring  to  any  matter  connected  with  herself  and  family,  if 
not  of  too  private  a  nature,  gives  a  lead  or  opening  to  her  ^^8ito^, 
and  affords  an  opportunity  for  her  to  take  up  the  thread  of  the  dis- 
coui-se,  and  to  carry  it  into  wider  channels,  far  beyond  the  range 
of  the  opei-as,  the  theatres,  or  the  weather.  And  in  proportion 
as  the  conversation  diverges  into  friendly  or  domestic  talk,  so  do 
the  two  ladies  become  more  at  ease  >*-ith  each  other,  gaining  in  a 
short  time  a  clear  insight  into  each  other's  characters  and  pur- 
suits.—/$bae/y  Small  Talk. 

It  is  often  assumed  that  reticence  commands  respect. 

It  is  in  vain  to  point  out  that  the  silent  fool  often  passes  for  a 
man  of  wit,  because  the  fool  who  has  wit  enough  to  know  this  and 
act  accordingly  is  not  properly  a  fool.  Were  he  a  fool  he  would 
not  keep  silence.  The  negroes  attribute  this  wi-sdom  to  the  chim- 
panzee, who,  they  say,  is  a  man,  but  will  not  speak  lest  he  should 
be  made  to  work. 

Silent  people  get  through  the  world  as  well  as  their  talkative 
neighbors ;  every  one  talks  for  them  ;  their  no<l  is  interpreted 
where  another  man  would  liave  to  make  a  speech  ;  and  every  one 
is  willing  to  excuse  them  as  the  sailor  excused  his  parrot,  for,  if 
they  do  not  speak,  they  tliink  the  more.   Foote,  the  actor,  boasted 


146  EGOTISM.  [Pakt  n. 

of  Ilia  horse  tliat  it  could  stand  still  faster  tlian  some  liorses  could 
trot ;  and  the  silent  uian  is  often  enabled,  by  the  value  attached  to 
his  rare  utterances,  to  say  more  by  his  silence  than  a  voluble 
talker  by  a  string  of  phrases. — Saturday  Jieciew. 

I*  It  tme  that  iieopic  of  reaerved  ditfpodtion  are  so  often  mUundentood  as  they  are 
nippowd  to  be  ?  It  seeina  t>>  me  that  certain  penoiM  of  a  fiank  and  impalaive  temper 
are  quite  aa  apt  to  be  miainterpretfed.  The  oommon  error  of  giving  raaerred  persons  in- 
sufficient credit  fur  feeling,  beoaoae  of  their  lack  of  demonatration,  ii  an  error  into 
which  only  tlie  duller  iwrt  of  obwenrers  fall ;  bnt  keener -sighted  onea  often  make  the  oppo- 
site mistake,  and  cherish  the  belief  that  the  less  the  display  the  fuller  and  deeper  iu 
sources  must  be.  This  is  far  from  being  inTariaUy  the  truth.  It  appears  to  me  that  if 
reserved  folk  arc  misoonocived  it  is  in  a  manner  favorable  to  their  character  and  intel- 
lect, and  whatever  opinions  may  be  expreesed  abont  them  are  commonly  accompanied 
with  the  acknowledgment  that  they  are  opinions  only,  for  when  a  man  is  nut  outspoken 
abont  himadf  we  may  hold  what  notion  we  choom  about  him ;  but  we  cannot  help 
knowing  that  the  notion  irt  something  of  our  own  construction,  baaed  on  no  real  knowl- 
edge. On  the  other  hand«  when  a  person  is  in  the  habit  of  talking  freely,  is  not  chary 
of  his  opinion  and  even  reveals  something  of  his  personsl  tastes,  habits,  an<l  feelings. 
It  is  natural  enough  for  those  who  hear  him  to  suppose  themselves  capable  of  estimating 
him.  Yet  this  very  frankness  is  what  miideads ;  we  are  not  aware  how  much  is  kept 
back  by  these  apparently  ooramuuieatlve  people— much  that  might  modify  or  alter  our 
notions  of  them.  They  show  ns  a  good  deal  of  themselves  and  we  think  we  know  all ; 
they  have  a  need  of  venting  themselves  and  begin  to  speak  their  thoughts  aloud  ;  yet 
they  are  Romctimea  very  sensitive  to  misconception  or  posdblo  ridicule,  and  at  the 
slightest  suspicion  of  either  hasten  to  shut  the  half -opened  door  of  their  hearts  and  with- 
draw their  real  selves  from  our  view.  An  impulsive  person  is  generally  impressionable 
and  easily  affected  by  the  personality  of  others;  consciously  or  unconsciously  he  adapts 
himself  to  those  he  is  iu  contact  with,  an.l  shows  to  different  persons  different  sides  of 
himself,  so  that  if  an  opinion  were  asked  for,  no  two  of  his  acquaintance,  perhaps, 
would  agree  in  their  impres-sions.  Of  course  he  is  himself  to  each  and  all,  but  not  the 
whole  of  himself. 

Reserve  sometimes  proceeds  from  a  shy  and  timid  sensitiveness,  which  makes  no 
appeal  for  appreciation  and  sympathy,  not  daring  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  coldness 
and  rebuff ;  but  reserved  persons,  as  a  rule,  enjoy  a  most  comfortable  self -poise  an<l  in- 
(lependenre  of  the  good  or  ill  opinion  of  others.  It  is  the  persons  of  frank,  impulsive 
t<'mi>erament  who  are  the  real  unfortunates  ;  they  go  throngh  a  good  deal  of  experience 
before  they  learn  the  wisdom  of  keeping  themselves  to  themselves,  and  after  learning  it 
are  sometimes  unlucky  enough  to  forget  it  at  the  wrong  moment,— Atlantic  JfotUhljf. 

SUGGESTIONS. 

Applying  to  this  subject  the  general  principle  of  con- 
versation that  our  first  object  should  be  to  entertain  our 
companion,  not  to  exalt  ourselves,  we  observe : 

1.  Reference  to  One's  Self  Should  Never  he  Obtruded. 
— To  boast  of  one's  position,  connections,  achievements. 


Chap.  VII I. J  SUGGESTIONS.  147 

sentiments  is  to  lower  by  comparison  the  corresponding 
possessions  of  our  comrade,  and  thus  to  render  him  un- 
comfortable. It  is  for  this  reason  that  a  vaunting  tale  so 
often  elicits  from  the  hearer  a  story  yet  more  marvellous, 
so  that  boasting  leads  to  lying. 

The  discomfort  is  heightened  as  the  thing  exnlted  in  is  beyond 
the  reach  of  one's  companion.  To  boast  of  health  in  presence  of 
an  invahd,  of  strength  to  a  cripple,  of  wealth  to  a  i)aui)er,  of  edu- 
cation to  the  illiterate,  of  social  distinction  to  those  who  get  no  in- 
vitations, is  as  stupid  as  it  is  unkind,  for  whatever  grudging  ac- 
knowledgment may  be  granted  the  fact,  is  lost  in  resentment  at  the 
lack  of  consideration. 

A  man  witli  more  money  than  manners  paused  to  talk  with  a 
laborer  hoeing  in  his  garden. 

"  Well,  Pat,"  ho  began,  **  it's  good  to  be  rich,  isn't  it  ?  ** 

*'Yis,  sorr." 

*'  I  am  rich,  very  rich,  Pat." 

"  Yis,  sorr." 

"  I  own  lands,  and  houses,  and  bonds,  and  stocks,  and — and — 
and—" 

♦'  Yis,  sorr." 

"  And  what  is  there,  Pat,  that  I  haven't  got  ?  " 

"  Not  a  spick  o'  since,  sorr ; "  and  shouldering  hia  hoe  Pat 
marched  off  in  search  of  a  less  conceited  employer. 

On  the  other  hand,  no  reluctance  should  be  shown  in 
coming  forward  when  we  can  add  to  the  pleasure  of 
others.  One  nnist  trust  to  his  judgment  to  determine 
when  he  can  contribute  most  to  the  general  enjoyment 
by  remaining  in  the  back-ground  and  when  by  taking  the 
lead. 

A  moderate  musician,  in  whom  it  would  be  intolerable  conceit 
to  play  before  a  cultured  audience,  may  add  intensely  to  the  en- 
joyment of  a  country  farm-house,  and  would  show  as  much  egot- 
ism  in  dechning  to  play  in  tlie  latter  case  as  he  would  in  offer- 
ing to  play  in  the  fonnor.  There  may  l>e  times  when  ho  kno\*-8 
himself  unfitted  to  ap{)car  and  yet  where  the  demand  that  he  shall 


148  EGOTISM.  [Pabt  n. 

do  so  is  so  persistent  that  it  is  less  egotistical  for  him  to  accept 
and  do  the  best  he  can,  knowing  he  must  fail,  than  to  delay  the 
entertainment  of  the  company  while  his  hostess,  injudiciously  kind, 
refuses  to  yield  to  his  protests.  This  is  one  of  the  instances  where 
one  is  called  upon  deliberately  to  sacrifice  one's  self  and  to  accept 
the  unjust  verdict  of  pretension,  because  to  inflict  poor  music  upon 
a  company  for  five  minutes  will  annoy  them  less  than  to  listen  for 
lialf  an  hour  to  one's  reason  for  not  trying.  In  all  such  cases  the 
man  who  systematically  regards  not  his  own  pleasure  or  reputation, 
but  the  gratification  of  the  company,  will  seldom  go  astray.  If  oc- 
casionally misunderstood,  eventually  his  unselfishness  will  be  rec- 
ognized. 

2.  Staieirvents  of  Fcujt  Should  he  Rigorously  Accurate. 
— In  the  popular  mind  exaggeration  is  so  associated  with 
boasting  that  in  referring  to  ourselves  we  should  be  care- 
ful rather  to  diminish  than  to  enlarge  the  statements  of 
fact.  So  alert  is  the  listener  to  detect  exaggeration  that 
he  is  quite  likely  some  time  to  compare  the  fact  with  our 
statement  of  it.  To  find  that  we  have  claimed  less  than 
was  really  true  will  gratify  him  the  more  because  this  so 
seldom  happens,  while  to  discover  that  even  in  imessential 
particulars  we  have  rounded  out  the  narrative  will  inspire 
mistrust  of  all  we  have  said. 

Many  persons  acquire  a  gay  habit  of  merry  boasting,  or  of  hu- 
morous gasconading — so  called  from  the  Gascons,  a  brave  and  tal- 
ented people,  who,  however,  utterly  destroy  all  respect  for  their 
real  merit  by  their  habits  of  vaunting.  He  who  would  avoid  vanity 
should  have  absolutely  nothing  to  do  with  it — not  even  to  bur- 
lesque it.  Self  is  our  most  insidious  foe,  and  he  who  boasts  in 
fun  will  soon  find  earnest  thoughts  gliding  into  the  current  of  his 
jests.  In  short,  avoid  everything  trhich  may  suggest,  however  re- 
motely, to  those  icith  whom  you  converse  the  suspicion  that  you  think 
of  the  effect  you  produce. — Art  of  (Conversation. 

3.  Reference  to  One's  Self  Should  Cease  the  Moment  It 
Becomes  Wearisome. — There  are  persons  so  ill-bred  as  to 


Chap.  Vni.]      CONFroENTIAL  SELF-RBVEALMENT.  149 

persist  in  asking  questions  about  one's  private  affairs  and 
who  yet,  when  one  in  sheer  good  nature  begins  to  answer, 
relapse  into  dreamy  indifference.  There  are  others  who  by 
any  reference  to  one's  self  are  instantly  stimulated  to  in- 
terrupt by  corresponding  reminiscences  and  confessions. 
There  are  frequent  occasions  when  one  has  been  led,  wisely 
or  weakly,  into  self -reveal  ment,  and  suddenly  discovers 
that  what  he  says  is  heard  reluctantly.  Ko  rule  is  more 
imperative  than  that  such  reference  to  one's  self  should  in- 
stantly cease,  not  only  out  of  regard  to  the  wishes  of  one's 
companion,  but  out  of  respect  for  one's  own  dignity. 
There  are  no  moments  in  life  more  precious  than  when 
one  talks  with  a  tried  friend  of  his  life  within.  But  such 
talk  should  be  only  between  tried  friends,  and  only  in  mo- 
ments of  confidence  and  sympathy.  It  is  not  to  Harry 
Foker  that  Guy  "Warrington  tells  his  story,  but  to  Arthur 
Pendennis,  and  to  Arthur  Pendennis  only  when  a  crisis  in 
his  life  makes  the  story  solemn  to  him. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Distinguished  from  self-conceit  and  vanity,  p.  138. 
Reference  to  one's  self  natural  and  interesting,  p.  140. 

Bat  disagreeable  when  to  an  imaginary  self,  p.  141« 
Egotism  not  eradicated  by  silence,  p.  142. 
Talk  of  one's  self  an  easy  introduction  to  conversation,  p.  145. 

SUGOESTIONa 

Reference  to  one's  self  should  never  be  obtruded,  p.  146. 
Statements  of  fact  should  be  rigidly  accurate,  p.  148. 
Reference  to  one's  self  should  cease  as  soon  as  wearisome,  p.  148. 


1*0  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  [Part  II 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

Do  you  agree  with  Coleridge  (page  131)  ? 

Do  you  think  the  writer  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  (page  146)  right  or 
wrong  in  thinking  thoee  of  frank  and  impulsive  temper  as  apt  to  be 
misunderstood  as  those  of  reserved  disposition  1 

What  do  you  think  of  the  following  paragraph  ? 

* '  Moralists  are  fond  of  vaguely  advising  people  to  *  be  themselves ' 
and  of  assuring  them  that  all  is  well  so  long  as  a  man  dares  to  be  his 
own  true  self.  The  value  of  this  counsel,  of  course,  entirely  de|)ends 
on  the  sort  of  self  with  which  each  person  happens  to  be  endowed. 
Socrates,  who  knew  a  good  deal  about  his  own  character,  asserted  that 
if  he  had  been  true  to  himself  he  would  have  been  one  of  the  greatest 
scoundrels  in  an  age  peculiarly  fertile  in  unredeemed  blackguards." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ARTICULATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION. 

On  wiutterer  rabject  and  for  whateTer  jmrpone  a  man  speakR  to  hi«  fellow-tncn,  they 
will  never  listen  to  him  "with  intcreat  unlem  they  can  hear  what  he  says;  and  that  without 
effort.  If  hi«  uttcmnce  is  rapid  ami  indistinct,  no  weight  of  his  sentiments,  no  strength 
or  amoothneas  of  voice,  no  rxcoUence  of  modulation,  emphasis,  or  cadence,  will  enable 
him  to  speak  no  as  to  be  heard  with  pleasure.— Pobteb. 

A  sensible  man  has  one  mode  of  articulation,  and  one  only,  namely :  always  to  pro- 
noonoe  his  words  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  readily  understood,  but  never  in  snob  a  man- 
ner as  to  excitt-  remark. — Leoouve. 

Definitions. — AHlculatuyti  is  proper  utterance  of  vo- 
cal elements.  Pronunciation  signifies  utterance  of  words, 
that  is,  of  combinations  of  vocal  elements.  Distinctness 
is  a  general  habit  of  the  voice,  belonging  to  all  its  sounds, 
articulate  or  inarticulate,  being  not  mere  correctness,  but 
a  sort  of  compactness  of  utterance. 

A  good  articulation  consists  in  giving  every  letter  in  a  syllable 
its  due  projwrtion  of  sound,  according  to  the  most  approved  cus- 
tom of  pronouncing  it ;  and  in  making  such  a  distinction  between 
the  syllables  of  which  words  are  composed,  that  the  ear  shall,  with- 
out difficulty,  acknowledge  their  number,  and  perceive  at  once  to 
whicli  syllable  each  letter  belongs. — Sheridan. 

In  just  articulation,  the  words  are  not  to  he  hurrietl  over  ;  nor 
precipitated  syllable  over  syllable  ;  nor,  as  it  were,  melted  together 
into  a  maos  of  confusion.  They  should  be  neither  abridged  nor 
prolonged  nor  swallowed  nor  forced  ;  they  should  not  be  trailed 
nor  drawled  nor  let  slip  out  carelessly,  so  a-s  to  drop  unfinished. 
They  are  to  be  delivered  out  from  the  lips  iis  Ixniutiful  coins, 
newly  issaed  from  the  mint,  deeply  and  at'cumt^dy  impressed,  i>er- 
fectly  finished,  neatly  struck  out  by  the  proper  orgiins,  distinct,  in 
due  Bucceasion,  and  of  due  weight. — Austin's  Chiranomica, 


152  ARTICULATION.  [Part  It 

It  had  an  odd,  promificnons  tone. 

As  if  he  had  talked  three  parta  in  one ; 

Which  iDAde  aome  think,  when  he  did  gabble, 

They  heard  three  laborera  of  Babel, 

Or  Oerbema  himaelf  pronoonce 

A  iMtA  of  languages  at  onoe. — Butlsb. 

Conversational  speech  is,  in  general,  very  slovenly.  Conld  it  hh 
written  down  exactly  as  we  hear  it,  the  speaker  would  not  recog- 
nize the  unintelligible  jargon.     Thus : 

Convsashnlspeech  zngenlveslovnly. 

This  is  not  an  exaggeration  of  the  kind  of  utterance  that  passes 
current  in  social  life.  The  chief  element  of  distant  audibility — 
throat-sound,  or  voice — is  so  curtailed  and  slurred  out,  that  little 
more  than  mouth-actions  remain. 

The  very  reverse  must  be  the  relation  of  thioat  to  mouth  in  or- 
atorical speech.  Consonants  may  be  softened  to  any  degree,  but 
vowels  must  be  given  fully  and  with  swelling  clearness.     Thus  : 

cONvER&AsHlJNAii  bpEEch  Is  In  oEnErAij  vEbY  slO- 
vEnlY. — BEiiii. 

A  speaker  may  possess  a  very  intelligent  apprehension  of  the 
pronunciation  of  words,  and  he  may  very  perspicuously  show  this 
to  his  hearers  by  marking  in  some  degree  the  proper  points  for 
accentuation  which  occur  in  the  words  which  he  utters.  But  if 
there  be  any  natural  or  acquired  defect  in  the  organs  of  speech  ; 
for  instance,  if  the  voice  be  exceedingly  unmanageable,  or  if  the 
palat«  should  be  gone,  a  j^erson  in  this  condition,  although  he 
may  indicate  by  a  very  feeble  and  imperfect  accentuation  of  words 
that  he  possesses  a  due  apprehension  of  the  necessity  of  that  qual 
ity  in  speaking,  yet  he  cannot,  owing  to  his  poverty  in  the  blessing 
of  sound,  give  out  the  different  syllables  in  the  words  which  he  ut- 
ters with  a  distinct  intonation ;  he  cannot  yield  to  each  syllable 
and  letter  in  the  composition  of  a  word  that  due  degree  of  weight 
which  will  mark  with  distinctness  and  precision  the  divisions 
which  exist  in  them,  just  as  the  transient  jmuses  which  occur  be- 
tween the  notes  delivered  from  a  bell  of  a  glassy  intonation  repeat 
the  distincter  existence  of  each  sound  which  falls  from  it  upon  the 
ear.     It  may  be  said  of  a  person  whose  voice  does  not  come  to  the 


Chap.  DC]       IMPORTANCE,  AND  DIFFICULTIES.  153 

aid  of  his  understanding  in  the  pronunciation  of  words,  that  he  is 
a  correct  pronouncer,  but  not  a  perfect  or  just  articulator,  just  as 
it  may  be  said  of  a  performer  on  the  violin,  who  is  a  perfect  mas- 
ter of  the  science  but  not  of  the  soimds  of  music,  that  he  is  a  cor- 
rect but  not  a  distinct  musician. — McQueen. 

Importance  of  Articulation. — A  good  articula- 
tion is  to  the  ear  what  a  fair  hand-writing  or  a  fair  type  is 
to  the  eye.  Who  has  not  felt  the  perplexity  of  supplying 
a  word  torn  away  by  the  seal  of  a  letter ;  or  a  dozen  syl- 
lables of  a  book  in  as  many  lines,  cut  ofF  by  the  careless- 
ness of  a  binder  ?  The  same  inconvenience  is  felt  from  a 
similar  omission  in  spoken  language ;  with  this  additional 
disadvantage,  that  wo  are  not  at  liberty  to  stop  and  spell 
out  the  meaning  by  construction.  ...  A  man  of  indis- 
tinct utterance  reads  this  sentence:  "The  magistrates 
ought  to  prove  a  declaration  so  publicly  made."  When  I 
perceive  that  his  habit  is  to  strike  only  the  accented  sylla- 
ble clearly,  sliding  over  others,  I  do.  not  know  whether  it 
is  meant  that  they  ought  to  prove  the  declaration,  or  to  ap- 
prove it,  or  reprove  it, — for  in  either  case  he  would  speak 
only  the  syllable  prove.  Kor  do  I  know  whether  the  mag- 
istrates ought  to  do  it,  or  the  magistrate  sought  to  do  it. 
— Porter. 

Difficulties  of  Articulation.— I.  The  first  and 
chief  dithculty  lies  in  the  fact  that  articulation  consists  es- 
sentially in  the  consonant  sounds,  and  that  many  of  these 
are  difficult  of  utterance.  .  .  .  It  is  evident  to  the 
slightest  observation  that  the  oi>en  vowels  are  uttered  with 
ease  and  strength.  On  these  public  criers  swell  their  notes 
to  so  great  a  compass. 

II.  A  second  difficulty  arises  fioni  the  immediate  suc- 
cession of  the  same  or  similar  sounds. 


154  ARTICULATION.  [Pakt  IL 

Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone. 

Tho'  oft  the  ear  the  open  vowels  tire. 

The  hosts  still  stood. 

The  battle  lasts  still. 

Wastes  and  deserts — Waste  sand  deserts. 

To  obtain  either — To  obtain  neither. 

BUs  cry  moved  me — His  crime  moved  me. 

Ho  could  pay  nobody — He  could  pain  nobody. 

In  tlie  last  example,  grammar  forbids  a  pause  between 
pain  and  nobody,  while  orthoepy  demands  one.  But 
change  tlie  structure  so  as  to  render  a  pause  proper  after 
j)ain,  and  the  difficulty  vanishes : — thus.  Though  he  en- 
dured great  pain,  nobody  pitied  him. 

A  serious  man  was  never  before  guilty  of  such  a  series  of  fol- 
lies ;  in  which  every  species  of  absurdity  was  accomimnied  by  a 
specious  gravity. 

The  duke  i)aid  the  money  due  to  the  Jew  before  the  dew  was 
off  the  ground ;  and  the  Jew,  having  duly  acknowledged  it,  said 
adieu  to  the  duke  foreves. 

III.  A  third  difficulty  arises  from  the  influence  of  ac- 
cent. The  importance  which  this  stress  attaches  to  sylla- 
bles on  which  it  falls  compels  them  to  be  spoken  in  a  more 
full  and  deliberate  manner  than  others.  Hence  if  the  re- 
currence of  this  stress  is  too  close,  it  occasions  heaviness  in 
utterance  ;  if  too  remote,  indistinctness. 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line. 
Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone. 
Communicatively,    authoritatively,   ten-estrial,   reasonableness, 
disinterestedness. 

lY.  A  fourth  difficulty  arises  from  a  tendency  of  the 
organs  to  slide  over  unaccented  vowels. — Porter. 

See  the  quotation  from  Bell,  on  page  152. 


Chap.  JX.]  SPECIAL  DIFFICULTIES.  155 

Cautions  in  Articulation. — I.  In  aiming  to  form 
a  distinct  articnlation,  take  care  not  to  form  one  that  is 
measnred  and  mechanical.  Somethhig  of  preciseness  is 
very  apt  to  appear  at  lirst,  .  .  .  but  practice  and  perse- 
verance will  enable  us  to  combine  ease  and  fluency  with 
clearness  of  utterance.  The  child,  in  passing  from  his 
spelling  manner  is  ambitious  to  become  a  swift  reader,  and 
thus  falis  into  a  confusion  of  organs  that  is  to  be  cured 
only  by  retracing  the  steps  which  produced  it.  The  rem- 
edy, however,  is  no  better  than  the  fault,  if  it  runs  into  a 
scan-ning,  pe-dan-tic  for-mal-i-ty,  giving  undue  stress  to 
particles  and  unaccented  syllables ;  thus,  "  lie  is  the  man 
of  all  the  world  whom  I  rejoice  to  meet." 

II.  Let  the  close  of  sentences  be  spoken  clearly,  with  suf- 
ficient strength  and  on  the  proper  pitch  to  bring  out  the 
meaning  completely.  Ko  part  of  a  sentence  is  so  impor- 
tant as  the  close,  both  in  respect  to  sense  and  harmony. 

III.  Ascertain  your  own  defects  of  articulation  by  the 
aid  of  some  friend,  and  then  devote  a  short  time,  statedly 
and  daily,  to  correct  them. — Porter. 

Special   Difficulties. — I.   Consonants. 

"WTieu  a  child  says  "turn"  for  •'come,"  and  "tin"  for  "king," 
the  correct  articulation  will  bo  induced  almost  at  the  firat  trial  by 
the  sirnph*  exi)edient  of  hohling  down  the  forepart  of  tlie  tongue 
with  the  ftnger.  Tlio  etTort  to  imitate  tlie  general  etfect  will  then 
force  the  back  part  of  the  tongue  into  action  ;  and  in  a  few  days  at 
most,  the  child  will,  without  any  assistance,  form  Ar,  </,  and  »>//, 
where  before  it  could  only  utter  /,  </,  and  n. 

Tlio  "shut"  consonants  (p,  t,  k,  b,  d,  g,)  are  the  most  easily 
acqnireil,  and  children  consequently  jjronounce  p  instead  of  the 
more  difticult  /,  antl  /  instead  of  ///.  A  few  moments  devotetl  to 
amusing  exercise  will  compier  this  difticulty.  Tlius,  t^dl  the  child 
to  bite  his  lower  lip,  and  blow,  and  he  will  form  a  tolerable  /  at 
once;   or  to  bite  his  tongue  and  blow,  and  a  jiassable  th  will  be 


156  ARTICULATION.  [Part  XL 

the  resnlt.  The  sounds  of  s  and  sh  are  often  for  a  long  time  con- 
founded ;  also  those  of  s  and  ///.  The  sound  of  s  will  be  obtained 
from  //*  by  drawing  back — or,  if  assistance  is  needed,  by  pushing 
back — the  tip  of  the  tongue  till  it  is  free  from  the  teeth.  The 
teeth  require  to  be  very  close  for  s,  but  there  will  be  room  to  in- 
sert the  edge  of  a  paper-cutter  to  plai/  the  tongue  into  position. 
— Bell. 

Tbo  lower  olawM  of  the  French  CanadUns  habitanUf  confound  the  mates  Ir  and  (,  in 
certain  combinations,  and  say  "  mvkier,"  "  moikid,*"  for  *'  metier,"*  "  moiti^.'"  The  double 
forms  nunrtut  and  nurUiUM  and  the  like  show  that  the  Romans  did  the  same  thing,  if,  as 
has  been  suppoflcd,  their  c  had  always  the  force  of  *.  An  extnutrdinary  instAnoe  of 
this  particular  confusion  occurs  in  the  remarks  on  pronunciation  prefixed  to  Webster's 
large  Dictionary,  printed  in  1828.  In  that  esnay  the  lexicographer,  whoee  most  consiiicn- 
oos  defects  were  c«.>rtainly  not  thow  of  the  ear,  after  haring  devoted  a  lifetime  to  the 
study  of  English  orthoepy  and  etymology,  informs  the  student  that  "the  letters  cj; 
answering  to  tl,  are  pronounced  as  if  written  tl;  c/ear,  clean,  are  prouounoed  Ueax, 
Itean.     Gl  is  pronounced  di ;  glory  is  pronounced  djory." — ViTWH. 

II.  Ilmo  to  roll  one* 8  7'V. 

The  two  letters  d  and  t,  formed  at  the  end  of  the  tongue,  are 
easily  and  naturally  i)ronounced  by  everybody.  Talma's  idea  was 
to  pronounce  these  two  letters  rapidly  and  alternately  ;  as,  du  tu 
du  tu,  etc.  Then  by  degrees  joining  r  to  them,  he  pronounced 
the  new  combination  also  rapidly  and  alternately,  dm  tru  dru  tru, 
etc.  By  this  contrivance  it  struck  him  that  he  could  fish  up  the 
letter  r  from  the  de^jths  of  the  thi'oat,  where  it  seemed  to  prefer 
keeping  itself  ;  that  he  could  compel  it,  as  it  were,  to  answer  the 
call  of  its  companions  inviting  it  out  to  the  dance.  Imagine  a 
young  girl — excuse  the  oddness  of  the  comparison — a  timid, 
shrinking  young  girl,  hiding  herself  in  a  comer  of  the  ball-room, 
but  called  out  by  her  companions,  who  drag  her  forcibly  and  mer- 
rily into  the  middle  of  the  circling  throng.  Soon,  however,  one 
friend  slips  away,  then  another,  and  another,  so  that  at  last  our 
modest,  timid,  shy  last-comer  finds  herself  unconsciously  dancing, 
and  dancing  well,  without  the  protection  of  any  participating  com- 
panions. 

That  is  exactly  what  Talma  did.  He  first  dropped  the  d  and 
then  the  t ;  instead  of  saying  dm  tru  dm  tru,  he  said  ru  m  m 
m,  and  kept  on  doing  this  so  persistently  that  at  last  the  r,  hav- 
ing been  well-accustomed  to  vibrate  with  the  others,  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  vibrating  all  alone. — Legoitse. 


Chap.  IX.  ]  SPECIAL  DIFFICULTIES.  157 

in.   The  Italian  A, 

It  may  here  be  pertinently  remarked  that  the  pronunciation 
of  a  in  such  words  as  ghiss^  lasty  father ^  and  pastor,  is  a  test  of 
high  culture.  The  tendency  among  uncultivated  ^jersons  is  to  give 
a  either  the  thick,  throaty  sound  of  uu  which  I  have  endeavored 
to  describe,  or,  of  tenest,  to  give  it  the  thin,  flat  sound  which  it  has 
in  an,  at,  and  anatomy.  Next  to  that  tone  of  voice  which,  it  would 
seem,  is  not  to  be  acquired  by  any  striving  in  adult  years,  an<? 
which  indicates  breeding  rather  than  education,  the  full,  free,  un- 
conscious utterance  of  the  broad  ah  sound  of  a  is  the  surest  indi- 
cation in  speech  of  social  culture  which  began  at  the  cradle. — 
BicHABD  Grant  White. 

lY.   The  Lettet'  H. 

*Twa8  whispered  in  heaven,  'twas  muttered  In  hell. 

And  echo  caught  faintly  the  ttound  as  it  fell ; 

On  the  confines  of  earth  'twas  permitted  to  rest, 

And  the  depths  of  the  ocean  its  presence  confest ; 

'Twill  be  found  in  the  sphere  when  'tis  riven  asunder, 

Be  seen  in  the  lightning  and  heard  in  the  thunder; 

'Twas  allotted  to  mun  with  his  earliest  breath. 

Attends  at  his  birth,  and  awaits  him  at  death ; 

Preaid««  o'er  his  happiness,  honors,  and  health  ; 

I«  the  prop  of  his  house  and  the  end  of  his  wealth. 

In  the  beape  of  the  miser  'tis  hoarded  with  care, 

Bat  is  wxre  to  bo  loHt  with  his  prodigal  heir ; 

It  begins  every  hope,  every  wish  it  must  bound  ; 

With  the  husbandman  toils;  with  the  monarch  is  crowned. 

Withoat  it  the  soldier,  the  sailor  may  roam, 

But  woe  to  the  wretch  who  expeb  it  from  home ! 

In  the  whispers  of  oonsoienoe  its  voice  will  be  found. 

Nor  e'en  in  the  whirlwind  of  paraion  be  drowned. 

*TwiU  soften  the  heart :  though  deaf  be  the  ear, 

'TwUl  make  it  acutely  and  instantly  hear ; 

But  in  shade  let  it  rest  like  a  delicate  flower ; 

Oh  1  breathe  on  it  sofUy-it  dies  in  an  hour. 

— OATHABIXX  FAirSHAWX. 

The  only  four  words  in  the  English  lang^nage  beginning  with  h 
and  not  aspirated  are,  how,  heir,  honest  and  honor,  with  their  deri- 
vations. Hostler  is  often  written  ostler,  but  when  it  begins  with 
h,  it  should  be  aspirated,  as  are  "  host,"  "  hostelry',"  and  "  hotel." 
Sometimes  ♦'  herb  "  and  '*  humble  "  are  not  aspirated.     We  do  as- 


158  ARTICULATION.  [Part  II. 

pirate   "herbal,"    "herbarium,"    and    **  herbivoroiis.**      Humble 
should  be  aspirated.     Moore  wrote  his  line  : 

**  A  heart  that  is  humble  might  hope  for  it  here," 

in  order  to  confound  the  cockneys,  and  so  did  Mrs.  Crawford  her 
line : 

''  The  horn  of  the  hunter  is  beard  on  the  hiU.'* 

In  Punchy  the  cockney  says :  "The  best  cure  for  the  cholera  is 
the  open  hair ;  I  do  not  mean  the  air  of  the  ead,  but  the  hair  of 
the  hatmosphere." 

A  bit  of  London  Fun :  **  Have  yon  any  fresh  eggs  ?  **  **  Yes, 
mum,  plenty ;  them  with  the  hen  on  'em  ! "  ♦*  "With  the  hen  on 
them ?"  "Yes,  mum,  we  always  puts  a  hen  on  our  fresh  eggs,  to 
distinguish  of  'em.  Beg  pardon,  mum,  don't  think  you  under- 
stand. Hen,  the  letter,  not  *en,  the  bird.  Hen,  for  noo-laid, 
mum.     Take  a  dozen,  mum  ?    Thank  you  !  " 

V.  Nasal  Toiiee, 

The  soft  jmlate  which  hangs  at  the  back  of  the  mouth  acts  as  a 
valve  on  the  passage  to  the  nose.  When  the  toj)  of  the  soft  palate 
is  arched  backward  from  its  point  of  junction  with  the  hard  pal- 
ate, it  covers  the  internal  nasal  aperture,  and  the  breath  passes 
altogether  through  the  mouth.  When  the  soft  palate  is  relaxed 
and  pendent  from  the  edge  of  the  hard  palate,  the  breath  passes 
l^artly  through  the  nose  and  partly  through  the  mouth  ;  and  when 
the  mouth-passage  is  closed  (by  means  of  the  back  of  the  tongue, 
as  in  ng,  the  forepai*t  of  the  tongue,  as  in  n,  or  the  lips,  as  in  m,) 
the  breath  passes  altogether  by  the  nose.  A  knowledge  of  these 
facts  will  enable  any  person  to  correct  the  habit  of  nasalizing 
vowels. 

The  chief  difficulty  lies  in  the  recognition  by  the  ear  of  pure 
oral  and  mixed  nasal  quality.  The  action  of  the  soft  palate  may, 
however,  be  seen,  by  oj^ening  the  mouth  very  wide  in  pronouncing 
the  vowels  ah  and  aic.  Then,  by  pressing  on  the  top  of  the  soft 
palate  with  the  thumb,  or  with  the  india-rubber  end  of  a  pencil, 
the  internal  nasal  aperture  will  be  covered,  and  the  utterance  of 
ah  and  aw  will  be  jmrely  oral.  Repeat  these  vowels  with  and 
without  the  mechanical  pressure,  and  after  a  few  experiments  the 


Chap.  IX.  1  LEGOUVfi'S  INFALLIBLE  RULR  159 

ear  will  distinguish  the  difference  between  oral  and  nasaL  Prao 
tice  on  other  vowels,  in  forming  which  the  soft  palate  cannot  be 
seen,  will  soon  develop  a  feeling  of  the  difference. 

But  the  readiest  way  to  gain  a  perception  of  the  denasalizing 
action  of  the  soft  palate  vdW  be  by  the  following  exercise  : 

Sound  the  consonants  m  h  without  separating  the  lips,  as  in 
l)ronouncing  the  word  einber:  The  change  from  m  to  b  is  nothing 
more  than  the  covering  of  the  nasal  ai)erture  by  the  soft  palate ; 
and  the  change  from  b  to  m  without  separating  the  lips,  as  in  the 
word  submity  is  merely  the  uncoveiing  of  tho  nasal  aperture. — 
Bell. 

Legouv^'s  Infallible  Rule. — 

On  the  clearness  of  our  pronunciation  depends  the  clearness  of 
our  discourse.  In  fact  too  much  cannot  be  said  of  good  pronun- 
ciation. It  is  the  main  point  in  our  delivery  ;  on  it  depends  the 
very  life  of  our  words. 

The  consonants  are  the  solid  framework  of  the  word  ;  they  are 
its  bones.  From  the  consonants  we  can  reconstruct  the  word  it- 
self, just  as  Cu\'ier  used  to  reconstruct  the  animals. 

It  is  the  intimate  union  between  the  vowels  and  the  consonants 
that  constitutes  pronunciation.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  pro- 
nouncing a  consonant  by  itself,  and  even  the  vowel,  though  it 
forms  tho  sound  that  we  emit,  docs  not  form  the  word  that  we 
pronounce. 

As  to  tho  consonants,  the  art  of  pronouncing  them  perfectly  is 
the  art  of  articulating  them  perfectly.  Thera  is  no  art  more  use- 
ful, but  it  is  one  tliat  is  by  no  means  easy  of  a^rquiremeut.  Few 
I>eople  possess  from  nature  perfect  powers  of  articulation. 

With  some  it  is  too  strong,  with  othei-s  too  weak,  with  many  in- 
distinct. These  defects  can  be  remetliod  by  systematic  labor,  and 
by  tliat  alone.  How  ?  you  naturally  ask.  Well,  here  is  one  way, 
very  ingenious  and  effective,  and  yet  extremely  simple  and  emi- 
nently practicable. 

You  wish,  let  us  suppose,  to  confide  a  secret  to  a  friend  ;  but 
you  are  afraid  of  being  overheard,  the  door  being  open,  and  some- 
botly  listening  in  the  next  room.  What  would  you  do  ?  Walk  up 
to  your  friend  and  whisper  the  secret  into  his  ear  ?    Not  at  all. 


160  ARTICULATION.  [Part  II. 

You  might  be  caught  in  the  act,  and  so  excite  suspicion.  "What 
should  you  do  ?  I  will  tell  you,  and  in  doing  so  I  will  quote  the 
exact  words  of  that  master  of  masters,  Begnier : 

"You  face  your  friend  exactly,  and  pronouncing  your  words 
distinctly,  but  in  an  underbreath,  you  commission  your  articula- 
tions to  convey  them  to  your  friend's  eyes  rather  than  his  ears,  for 
he  is  as  carefully  watching  how  you  speak  as  he  is  intently  listen- 
ing to  what  you  say.  Articulation  here,  having  a  double  duty  to 
perform,  that  of  sound  as  well  as  its  own  peculiar  function,  is  com- 
pelled as  it  were  to  dwell  strongly  on  each  syllable  so  as  to  land  it 
safely  within  the  intelligence  of  your  hearer." 

This  is  an  infallible  means  of  correcting  all  the  defects  and 
(aults  of  your  articulation.  It  is  at  once  an  exercise  and  a  test ; 
if  you  do  not  articulate  well,  your  friend  will  not  understand  you. 
After  a  very  few  months*  steady  practice  at  this  exercise  for  a  few 
hours  a  day,  you  will  find  that  your  most  obdurate  articulatory 
muscles  become  flexible  as  well  as  strong,  that  they  rise  elastically 
and  respond  harmoniously  to  every  movement  of  the  thought  and 
to  every  difficulty  of  the  pronunciation. — LEOOUvf. 

Practice  in  Articulation. — Begin  at  the  end  of  a 

line,  sentence,  or  paragraph,  so  as  to  prevent  the  possibil- 
ity of  reading  negligently  ;  then  (1)  articulate  every  ele- 
ment in  every  word,  separately  and  very  distinctly, 
throughout  the  line  or  sentence  ;  (2)  enunciate  every  sylla- 
ble of  every  word  throughout  the  line  or  sentence  clearly 
and  exactly  ;  (3)  pronounce  every  word  in  the  same  style  ; 
(4)  read  the  line  or  sentence  from  the  beginning  forward, 
with  strict  attention  to  the  manner  of  pronouncing  every 
word ;  (5)  read  the  whole  line  or  sentence  with  an  easy, 
fluent  enunciation,  paying  strict  attention  to  the  expres- 
sion of  the  meaning,  but  without  losing  correctness  in  the 
style  of  pronunciation. — Murdoch. 

Exercises. — 

Beef-broth,  three-sixths,  literally  literary,  knitting-needle,  quit 
quickly,  such  a  sash,  puff  up  the  fop,  a  velvet  weaver,  a  cut  of 


Chap.  IX]  EXERCISES.  161 

pumpkin,  a  knapsack  strap,  coop  up  the  cook,  a  school  coal-scut- 
tle, veal  and  white  wine  vinegar,  geese  cackle  and  cattle  low,  cocks 
crow  and  crows  caw,  a  shocking  sottish  set,  she  sells  sea-shells, 
cloud-capped,  laurel-wreath,  linen  lining,  a  comic  mimic,  rural 
railroad,  Scotch  thatch,  statistics  of  sects,  portly  poultry,  a  wet 
white  wafer,  pick  pepper  peacock,  I  snuff  shop  snuff. — BEiiU 

Amidst  the  mista  and  coldest  froita. 
With  barest  wrists  and  stoutest  boasts. 
He  thmsts  his  fists  against  the  posts, 
And  still  insists  be  sees  the  ghoats. 

Crazy  Crajcrof t  caught  a  crate  of  crickled  crabs ; 
A  crate  of  crickled  crabs  Crazy  Craycroft  caught. 
If  Crazy  Craycroft  cnugbt  a  crate  of  crickled  crabs, 
Whereas  the  crate  of  crickled  crabs  Crazy  Craycroft  caught  f 

Thou  wreathed'st  and  muzzled'st  the  far-fetched  ox,  and  im* 
prisoned'st  him  in  the  volcanic  Mexican  mountain  of  Pop-o-cat-e- 
pet-1,  in  CJo-to-pax-i. 

Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers ;  a  peck  of  pickled 
peppers  Peter  Piper  picked.  If  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of 
pickled  peppers,  where's  the  peck  of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper 
picked  ? 

Thou  waft'd'st  the  rickety  staff  over  the  mountain-height  cliffs, 
and  clearly  saVst  the  full-orb'd  moon. 

When  a  twister  twisting,  would  twist  him  a  twist, 
For  twisting  a  twist  three  twists  be  wUl  twist, 
But  if  one  of  the  twisto  untwists  from  the  twist, 
The  twist  untwisting  untwists  the  twist. 

Robert  Rowley  rolled  a  round  roll  round  ;  a  round  roll  Robert 
Rowley  rolled  round.  Where  rolled  the  round  roll  Robert  Row- 
ley rolled  round  ? 

Theophilus  Thistle,  the  successful  thistle-sifter,  in  sifting  a 
sieveful  of  thistlos,  thnist  thr<»««  tlxmsand  thLstles  tljronj^h  thf» 
thick  of  his  thumb. 

Peter  Prangle,  the  prickly-p<'ar  picker,  picked  three  pecks 
of  prickly  prangly  pears  from  the  prangly  pear-treea  on  the  pleM> 
ant  ])rairies. 

SShoes  and  socks  shock  Uusau. 


162  ARTICULATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION.       [Part  IL 

PRONUNCIATION. 

Pronunciation  is  made  up  of  articulation  and  ac- 
centuation ;  when  both  are  perfect,  the  individual  has  a 
correct  and  elegant  pronunciation. — Vandenhoff. 

Lord  Chatham  kept  a  dictionary  constantly  within  his  reach  (1) 
to  insure  to  every  word  he  uttered  in  debate  a  pronunciation  of 
incontestable  accuracy,  and  (2)  to  enable  him  to  select  those  words 
which  would  best  express  the  idea  he  wished  to  convey. 

Standards  of  Pronunciation. — Walker  recom- 
mends that  the  analogies  and  tendencies  of  the  language 
should  be  studied,  as  the  best  guides  in  orthoepy.  He  has 
justly  censured  Dr.  Johnson's  general  rule,  that  "  those 
are  to  be  considered  as  the  most  elegant  speakers  who  de- 
viate least  from  the  written  words."  If  the  learned  lexi- 
cographer's principle  were  adopted,  what  strange  changes 
in  pronunciation  would  be  required  in  reading  the  follow- 
ing sentences,  in  which  none  of  the  words  printed  in  ital- 
ics are  sounded  according  to  the  spelling : 

The  common  usage  of  English  people  in  talking  their  native 
tongue  proves  that  they  do  not  trouble  themselves  as  to  the  spelling 
of  the  words.  It  surely  is  an  evil  custom,  and  savors  of  affectation 
to  talk  otherwise  than  their  fathers,  viothers,  brothers,  and  relations 
have  talked.  If  the  professors  of  colleges  and  other  places  of  educa- 
tion would  give  their  attejition  to  the  principles  of  English  pronun- 
elation^  they  woidd  see  reason  not  to  sanction  the  fashion  of  pro- 
nouncing many  common  words  in  uyi  usual  ways — sounding  the  final 
syllables  exactly  as  they  are  spelled  in  evil,  devil,  heaven,  leaven, 
heathen,  even,  reason^  season,  beacon,  deacon,  often,  softly,  etc.,  etc. — 
Plumptre. 

Dictionary  Authority. — When  two  or  more  pro- 
nunciations of  a  given  word  have  equal  authority,  choice 
may  be  made  between  them  on  the  grounds  of  analogy, 
derivation,  perspicuity,  and  euphony ;    but  as  a  general 


Chap.  IX]  THE  STANDARD  TO  FOLLOW.  163 

rule  the  pronunciation  of  words  should  be  determined  by 
the  dictionaries  in  commonest  use,  the  compilers  of  which 
are  quite  as  capable  as  the  young  student  of  weighing  the 
various  considerations  which  should  lead  to  the  preference 
of  one  pronunciation  over  another. 

How  impossible  it  is  to  adopt  any  other  standard  than  recog- 
nized authority  is  8ho\sii  by  the  foUo^sing  instances  of  the  changes 
in  the  pronunciation  of  words  produced  by  adding  a  single  letter. 

B  makes  u  road  broad,  turns  the  ear  into  a  bear,  and  Tom  into 
a  tomb. 

C  makes  limb  iliiub,  hanged  changed,  a  lever  clever,  and  trans- 
ports a  lover  to  clover. 

D  turns  a  bear  to  beard,  a  crow  to  a  crowd,  and  makes  anger 
danger. 

F  turns  lower  regions  to  flower  regions. 

G  changes  a  son  to  song,  and  makes  one  gone. 

H  changes  eight  into  height. 

K  makes  now  know,  and  eyed  keyed. 

L  transforms  a  pear  into  a  pearl. 

N  turns  a  line  into  linen,  a  crow  to  a  crown,  and  makes  one 
none. 

P  metamori)ho8es  lumber  into  plumber. 

S  turns  even  into  seven,  makes  have  shave,  and  word  a  sword, 
a  pear  a  sjioar,  makes  slaughter  of  laughter,  and  curiously  changes 
having  a  hoe  into  shaWng  a  shoe. 

T  makes  a  bough  bought,  turns  here  into  there,  alters  one  to 
tone,  changes  ether  to  tether,  and  transforms  the  phrase  "  allow 
his  own"  into  ••  tallow  this  town." 

W  does  well :  e.g. ,  hose  are  whoso  ?  are  becomes  ware,  on  won, 
omen  women,  so  sow,  vie  view,  an  arm  becomes  warm,  and  a  hat 
is  turned  into — what  ? 

Y  turns  fur  to  fury,  a  man  to  many,  to  to  toy,  a  rub  to  a  ruby, 
ours  to  yonrs,  and  a  lad  to  a  lady.— PAiTKieoN. 

The  Unpardonable  Error  in  pronunciation  is  ob- 
trusively to  pronounce  differently  a  word  which  has  just 
been  uttered. 


16^  EEONUNCIATION.  [Pabt  11 

Among  intimate  friends  discussion  of  each  other's  verbal  errors 
may  by  agreement  become  pleasant  and  profitable.  But  one 
should  not  venture  to  take  this  liberty  with  a  stranger  or  with 
older  people ;  for, 

I.  There  is  no  subject  upon  which  persons  are  generally  more 
sensitive  than  upon  their  use  of  language.  Even  scholars  become 
acrimonious  when  their  opinions  on  this  subject  are  disputed,  as 
witness  the  books  of  Richard  Grant  White,  Fitzedward  Hall, 
Dean  Alford,  G.  Washington  Moon,  and  others.  The  explanation 
of  this  peculiar  bitterness  seems  to  be  that  one's  use  of  language 
depends  upon  his  early  associations,  his  ''bringing  up,'*  so  to 
speak  ;  and  hence  to  insinuate  that  one  is  unacquainted  with  pre- 
vailing usage  in  sjieeeh,  is  to  imply  that  one  is  also  unacquainted 
with  prevailing  usage  in  manners — in  other  words,  that  he  is  no 
gentleman. 

n.  So  widely  do  authorities  differ,  that  one  must  be  a  profound 
student  of  orthoepy  to  feel  secure  in  asserting  that  the  pronuncia- 
tion he  hears  is  wrong. 

Take  the  Mord  pi'onuncicUion  itself.  Webster  gives  "pronun- 
shiashun,"  without  hint  of  other  usage,  and  one  who  had  con- 
sulted only  this  dictionary  might  feel  that  any  other  pronuncia- 
tion was  erroneous.  But  Perry,  Knowles,  Smart,  Craig,  Cooley, 
Cull,  and  Wright  all  prefer  "  pronunseashun,"  while  Sheridan 
makes  it  "  pronunshashun."  Plumptre,  in  his  King's  College 
Lectures  on  Elocution,  says  : 

"  The  word  pronunciation  is  smoother  when  the  c  is  pronounced 
as  s,  not  as  sh,  and  the  word  pronounced  as  if  written  pro7i  unsea- 
shouy  not  pronunsheashon.  The  repetition  of  the  hissing  sound  of 
the  sh  is  unpleasant." 

In  face  of  this  authority,  while  one  has  the  right  to  prefer  the 
sh  sound,  he  would  simply  obtrude  his  ignorance  if  he  called  the 
s  pronunciation  wrong.  The  general  rule  should  be,  whenever 
one  hears  a  word  pronounced  in  an  unaccustomed  way,  by  a  per- 
son likely  to  know  about  it,  immediately  to  look  it  up  in  the  best 
authorities  at  hand,  so  as  to  assure  one's  self  about  it.  But  if,  as 
often  happens,  the  pei*son  seems  to  be  wrong,  one  need  not  cor- 
rect him.  The  object  of  observing  the  pronunciation  of  others  is 
\.o  correct,  not  their  usage  but  our  own.     That  labor  is  well 


Chap.  IX.]  THE  ITNPARDONABLE  ERROR.  165 

bestowed  which  makes  us  sure  that  we  can  pronounce  correctly 
the  words  we  use.  But  correct  pronunciation  is  a  means,  not  an 
end.  To  be  able  to  report  of  an  eloquent  sermon  only  that  the 
preacher  said  na-tional  instead  of  nash-onal,  betrays  the  most  in- 
8uflferal)le  pedantrj'. 

A  man  asked  whether  he  would  have  his  fish  briled,  replied  that 
he  didn't  care  whether  it  was  briled  or  biled,  providing  it  was  not 
spiled. 

"Mr.  Kemble,"  said  George  III.,  "  will  you  obleege  me  with  a 
pinch  of  your  snuflf?"  "With  pleasure,  your  Majesty;  but  it 
would  become  your  royal  lips  better  to  say  oblige." — Graham. 

Here  it  may  be  doubted  whether  the  actor  was  following  the 
usage  of  the  day  more  acciu-ately  than  the  king. 

Marsh  says :  '•  Oblige,  for  instance,  in  its  complimentar}'  sense, 
is  a  word  recently  introduced  from  France  ;  for  this  is  a  meaning 
unknown  to  Shakspere,  and  as  a  word  of  ceremonial  phraseology 
it  was  first  pronounced  obleege,  but  it  is  now  almost  uniformly  ar- 
ticulated with  the  English  sound  of  i  long." 

Proper  Names. — Xames  of  persons  and  places  de- 
pend for  tlioir  pronunciation  wholly  upon  local  usage. 
The  only  caution  to  be  observed  is  that  where  well-known 
geographical  names  have  a  recognized  English  as  well  as  a 
local  pronunciation,  the  former  should  be  employed.  One 
would  make  himself  ridiculous  by  talking  of  Paree  and 
Baerleen. 

Indeed,  a  strict  conformity  to  the  native  pronunciation  of  names 
belonging  to  languages  whose  orthographical  system  differa  much 
from  our  own,  is  considered  an  offensive  affectation,  and  a  great 
British  orator,  who  was  as  familiar  with  French  as  with  EngUsh, 
is  said  to  have  been  so  scrupulous  on  this  i>oint  tliat  in  his  parlia- 
mentary speeches  he  hnli^'v^llv  M|>oke  of  an  important  French  port 
as  BordeaiLT.— Mab8H. 

Exercises.  ( )t  late  vcars  unusual  attention  has  been 
given  to  words  usually  mispronounced.  Among  the  col- 
locations of  such  words  strung  together  into  a  sort  of  con- 


166  ARTICULATION  AND  PRONUNCIATION.       [Part  II. 

nection,  the  following  will  be  found  useful,  few  persons 
being  able  to  read  them  through  without  a  blunder. 

A  sacrilegious  son  of  Belial,  who  suffered  from  bronchitis,  hav- 
ing exhausted  his  finances,  in  order  to  make  good  the  deficit  re- 
solved to  ally  himself  to  a  comely,  lenient,  and  docile  young  lady 
of  the  Malay  or  Caucasian  race.  He  accordingly  purchased  a  cal- 
liope and  coral  necklace  of  a  chameleon  hue,  and,  securing  a  suite 
of  rooms  at  a  principal  hotel,  he  engaged  the  head  waiter  as  his 
coadjutor.  He  then  dispatched  a  letter  of  the  most  unexceptiona- 
ble calligraphy  extant,  inviting  the  young  lady  to  a  matinee.  She 
revolted  at  the  idea,  refused  to  consider  herself  sacrificeable  to  his 
desires,  and  sent  a  }M)lite  note  of  refusal,  on  receiving  which  he 
l)rocured  a  carbine  and  a  bo\*'ie-knife,  said  that  he  would  not  now 
forge  fetters  hymeneal  with  the  queen,  went  to  an  isolated  spot, 
severed  his  jugular  vein,  and  discharged  the  contents  of  his  car- 
bine into  his  abdomen.     The  dCbris  was  removed  by  the  coroner. 

An  Indian,  attracted  by  the  aroma  of  the  coffee  and  the  broth 
arising  from  the  bivouac,  moving  down  the  jmth  met  a  bombastic 
bravo  who  was  troubled  with  the  bronchitis.  The  Indian  being  in 
desliabille,  was  treated  with  disdain  by  this  blackguard,  who  called 
him  a  dog,  and  bade  him  with  much  vehemence  and  contumely  to 
leave  his  domain,  or  he  would  demonstrate  by  his  carbine  the  use 
of  a  coffin  and  cemetery.  The  Indian  calmly  surveyed  the  dimen- 
sions of  his  Euroi>ean  opponent,  and  being  sagacious  and  robust, 
and  ha^•ing  all  the  combativeness  of  a  combatant,  shot  this  mfSan 
in  the  abdomen  with  an  arrow. 

A  young  patriot  with  a  black  moustache,  coming  from  the  mu- 
seum, laughingly  said,  • '  Bravo  !  you  should  be  nationally  re- 
warded by  receiving  the  right  of  franchise,  for  I  witnessed  the  al- 
tercation, and  the  evidence  is  in'efragable  and  indisputable  that 
you  have  removed  a  nauseous  reptile.  I  now  make  this  inquiry — 
will  not  the  matrons  in  this  country,  and  the  patrons  of  our 
schools,  inaugurate  some  system  that  -s^dll  give  an  impetus  to  the 
interesting  study  of  our  language  ?  If  half  the  leisure  moments 
were  thus  spent  in  lieu  of  reading  some  despicable  romance,  we 
should  be  wiser  than  we  are." 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Definitions,  p.  151. 
Articulation,  p.  153. 

Imjwrtance  of  articulation,  p.  153. 
Difficulties  of  articulation. 

I.  Difficulty  of  uttering  consonant  sounds,  p.  153. 
n.  Succession  of  similar  sounds,  p.  153. 
in.  Influence  of  accent,  p.  154. 

IV.  Tendency  to  slide  over  unaccented  rowels,  p.  154. 
Cautions  in  articulation. 

I.  Do  not  form  a  measured  and  mechanical  articulation, 

p.  155. 
n.  Importance  of  the  close  of  sentences,  p.  155. 
ni.  Ascertain  defects,  p.  156. 
Special  difficulties,  p.  155. 
I.  Consonants,  p.  155. 
n.  How  to  roll  one's  r's,  p.  156. 
m.  The  Itelian  A,  p.  157. 
IV.  The  letter  H,  p.  157. 
V.  Nasal  tones,  p.  158. 
Iiegoav6'8  infallible  rule,  p.  159. 
Practice  in  articulation,  p.  160. 
Exercises,  p.  160. 
Pronunciation,  p.  162. 

Standards  of  pronunciation,  p.  162. 
Dictionary  authority,  p.  162. 
The  unpardonable  error,  p.  168. 
Proper  names,  p.  165. 
BzMdaes,  p.  165. 


PART  III. 

LETTER-WRITING 


PART  III. 

LETTER-WRITIJ^G. 


CHAPTER  X. 

KINDS  OF   LETTERS. 


The  post  h  the  grand  connecting  link  of  all  transactions,  of  all  negotiations.  Thow 
who  are  absent  by  Its  means  become  present ;   it  is  the  consolation  of  life.— Voltaire. 

A  Letter  is  a  written  communication  from  one  person 
to  another. 

An  early  settler  had  occasion  to  send  an  Indian  to  a  neighbor 
upon  an  errand,  and  scribbled  his  communication  upon  a  chip. 
Observing  that  the  neighbor  ui)on  looking  at  tlie  chip  knew  the 
errand  upon  which  the  Inilian  was  sent,  the  Indian  regarded  the 
chip  with  reverence,  and  thereafter  wore  it  as  an  amulet,  calling  it 
"  the  talking  chip." 

A  Circular  Letter,  under  guise  of  a  personal  communication,  is 
yet  written  avowedly  for  jmblication.  Criticisms,  editxirial  arti- 
clen,  even  entire  novels  are  sometimes  written  in  the  form  of  let- 
ters ;  but  the  letter  proper  is  a  communication  intended  only  for 
the  person  or  persons  addressed. 

Kinds  of  Letters.  —  r..etter8  are  usually  (1)  of 
Fritmls/itpy  (2)  of  Vourtevy^  (3)  of  Budiiessy  (4)  to  Newih 
jxipers. 


172  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Part  III. 

i.  Letters  of  Friendship. — Few  duties  are  more 
ini|X3rative  tliaii  to  send  frequent  letters  to  near  kindred 
from  whom  we  are  separated.  The  ties  of  family  are  ab- 
solute ;  the  son,  tlie  daughter,  the  sister,  the  brother,  who 
are  insensible  to  these  ties,  who  do  not  recognize  and  ac- 
cept them  as  binding,  start  in  life  with  a  serious  defect  in 
their  natures,  and  with  an  almost  insurmountable  obstacle 
to  the  attainment  of  true  manhood  and  womanhood. 
These  relations  are  not  only  the  first  into  which  one  enters, 
but  they  involve  all  that  is  fundamental  in  character. 
The  circumstances  are  very  rare  that  will  excuse  the  yoimg 
man  or  woman  for  any  neglect  of  love  and  loyalty  to  par- 
ents and  to  brothers  and  sistere. 

Yet  as  the  members  of  a  family  separate  to  enter  each  his  indi- 
vidual path  in  life,  it  too  often  hap])ens  that  they  grow  away  from 
one  another.  Each  forms  new  associations,  has  new  friends,  new 
thoughts,  new  ideas.  On  special  occasions  the  members  of  the 
family  meet,  are  glad  to  see  each  other,  enjoy  one  another  so  long 
as  they  feel  interested  in  recalling  old  times  or  in  satisfying  their 
curiosity  as  to  the  mateiial  facts  of  each  other's  new  siuroimdings. 
But  when  it  comes  to  real  conversation,  to  the  interchange  of  pre- 
dominant thoughts,  to  the  real  problems  of  the  daily  life  of  each, 
every  meeting  finds  the  jjlay-fellows  of  boyhood  more  and  more 
strangers  in  maturity.  Tliere  remain  respect,  confidence,  love 
which  every  year  seems*  more  and  more  traditional ;  l)ut  of  the 
communion,  the  mutual  help  of  those  early  days,  less  and  less  is 
left ;   the  relation  is  rather  of  a  tribe  than  of  a  family. 

To  some  extent  this  mental  separation  is  inevitable,  \  ut  it  may 
be  partly  escajjed  by  frequent  and  familiar  conespondence.  The 
boy  at  college  who  writes  every  week  to  his  nio'lier  of  all  Hat  has 
most  interested  him,  will  avoid  some  things  that  otherwise  might 
make  him  reluctant  to  meet  that  mother's  glance.  The  young 
man  who  has  just  come  from  a  farai  to  the  city,  will  seem  less  a 
stranger  to  his  little  brothers  and  sistei-s  when  he  returns  for  vaca- 
tion, and  will  find  his  interest  in  the  familiar  scenes  of  bovliood 
far  less  diminished,  if  his  letters  home  have  been  regular  and  full- 


Chap.  X.]       LETTERS  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  178 

beai'ted.     The  members  of  an  affectionate  family,  all  of  whom  are 
good  letter-writers,  will  never  grow  veiy  far  apart. 

It  is  therefore  important  that  the  habit  of  interchanging  lettera 
when  separated  should  be  an  early  and  an  accepted  one.  The  boy's 
first  visit  away  from  home  should  inspire  his  fii*st  letter  home. 
The  girl  at  school  should  look'upon  every  incident  as  an  "  item  " 
for  her  next  letter.  "When,  one  by  one,  the  elder  children  leave 
their  home  altogether,  it  should  bo  no  slight  element  of  their  pur- 
poses for  the  future,  that  there  shall  be  a  weekly  letter  to  the  old 
folks  at  home. 

This  practice  will  naturally  be  extended  to  Bchool-mates 
and  other  intimate  friends.  In  youth  the  heart  is  exuber- 
ant, the  senses  are  keen,  the  mind  is  active,  and  the  hands 
are  comparatively  unoccupied.  There  are  hours  of  mus- 
ing, of  contemplation,  of  reflection,  of  recalling  events  just 
past,  when  the  enjoyment  and  the  profit  are  doubled  if  one 
can  share  one's  thoughts  with  an  absent  friend.  If  such  a 
correspondence  be  frank,  unassuming,  and  free  from  gush- 
ing sentimentality,  it  is  an  unsurpassed  means  of  literary 
culture. 

What  to  Write. — But  what  shall  these  letters  con- 
tain ?  Verdant  Green's  friend  Bouncer  wrote  regularly 
to  his  mother,  and  he  wrote  long  letters,  that  contained  a 
great  deal  of  information.  But  his  plan  was  to  l)egiQ : 
"  My  dear  mother,  I  hope  you  are  well,  as  I  am  at  this 
writing,  and  I  should  like  a  little  money,  as  my  expenses 
are  very  heavy.  I  will  now  resume  my  description  of  Ox- 
ford from  the  point  where  we  last  left  ofF."  "Whereupon 
he  proceeded  to  copy  from  the  local  guide-book  as  much 
as  would  fill  the  prescribed  number  of  pages. 

This  style  of  composition  was  not  fitted  to  promote  a  verj 
confidential  intimacy  with  his  mother,  or  to  h»ad  on  his  part  to  any 
pronounced  mental  development ;  but  after  all  it  was  a  fair  type  of 


174  KJKDi  OP  LETTERS.  [Part  HI. 

much  family  correspondence.  A  letter  which  is  half  occupied  with 
remarking  that  "I  now  take  my  pen  in  hand  to  write  you  a  few 
words,"  and  half  with  regretting  that  "I  haven't  any  news  to  tell, 
but  close,  assuring  you  that  I  am  well  and  hoi)e  this  epistle  will 
find  you  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  same  blessing,"  is  not  adapted 
to  do  much  more  than  discharge  a* disagreeable  duty  in  a  disagree- 
able way.  But  surely  members  of  the  same  family  need  never  pad 
out  four  pages  of  commercial  note  with  common-places. 

The  Great  Mistake  in  writing  friendly  letters  is  to 
suppose  that  only  the  marvellous  is  worth  writing  about. 
It  is  the  incidents  of  every-day  life,  the  characteristic  little 
acts  and  speeches  of  the  members  of  the  household,  that 
one  longs  to  hear  about  when  away.  Tlie  great  events  are 
told  in  the  newspapers,  but  only  the  letter  can  so  depict 
the  minutiae  of  home-life  as  to  put  the  reader  back  for  the 
moment  among  the  friends  he  has  left  behind. 

'*  I  am  going  to  make  a  sort  of  promise  to  myself  and  to  you," 
writes  Mary  Lamb  to  her  tliat  was  afterward  Mrs.  Hazlitt,  "  that  I 
-Will  write  you  kind  of  journal-like  letters  of  the  daily  what-we-do 
matters.^' 

SPECIMENS   OF   FAMILY  LETTERS. 

Samuel  Johnton  to  hit  Younger  SMert. 

Jnne,  1843. 
ICt  Dkar  Gisu  : 

1  am  ready  to  cry  at  not  hearing  from  you.  What  are  you  doing  ?  Are  you  not 
going  to  let  me  into  any  of  your  little  pleasures  or  plans?  My  heart  bounds  with  yours 
in  your  pleasant  hopes,,  and  my  eye  will  see  all  beautiful  things  as  though  it  were  your«. 
Do  let  the  words  you  would  speak  in  your  happiest  moments,  in  all  their  freshness  and 
liveliness,  take  the  form  of  letters,  and  pass  into  my  heart  as  though  I  were  with  you. 
And  so  I  am  with  you  w^here  you  call  me. 

What  shall  I  tell  you  of  ?  Flowers,  birds,  woods,  walks,  true,  loving,  sincere  books — 
what  ?  Thoy  are  all  around  me  here,  and  they  are  so  deep  in  my  love,  and  you  seem  so 
present  to  me,  that  I  cannot  describe  them  :  for  it  seems  as  though  you  knew  how  they 

looked  as  well  as  I.     Tell  me  how  you  imagine  things  look  about  me.    Little  Susan  R 

comes  to  my  room  every  now  and  then  early  in  the  morning,  to  get  me  to  go  to  ride  with 
her  mother.    But  I  mutt  see  j/ou  in  a  letter  soon,  or  I  shall  be  ml'^erable. 

Your  own, 

& 


Chap.  X.J       LETTERS  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  176 

Margartt  Fuller  OasolC$  Last  Letter. 

Florsmci,  May  U,  1860. 
DiAB  Motbkb: 

I  will  believe  I  shall  be  welcome  with  my  treasures— my  husband  and  child.  For  me, 
I  long  BO  much  to  see  yon  !  Should  anything  hinder  our  meeting  on  earth,  think  of  yonr 
daughter  as  une  who  always  wishetl,  at  leant,  to  do  her  duty,  and  who  always  cherished 
yoo,  according  as  her  mind  opened  to  discover  excellence. 

Give  dear  love,  too,  to  my  brothers  ;  and  first,  to  my  eldest,  faithful  friend,  Eugene; 

a  sister's  love  to  Ellen ;  love  to  all  my  kind,  good  aunts,  and  to  my  dear  cousin  E . 

0<idbIeaatbeml 

I  hope  we  shall  be  able  to  pass  some  time  together,  yet,  in  this  world.  But  if  Qod  de- 
crees otherwise— A<re  and  hereafter,  my  dearest  mother, 

Your  loving  child, 

MlBOABST. 

WWiam  Henry  to  Ato  Orandmother, 
Mt  Dkar  Oravsmothsr: 

I  guess  you'll  think  'tis  funny  getting  another  letter  again  from  me  so  soon,  but  Tm 
In  a  hurry  to  have  my  father  send  me  some  money  to  have  my  skates  mende<I ;  ask  him 
if  he  won't  please  to  send  me  thirty-three  cents ;  and  we  two  have  mode  up  again,  and  I 
thuught  you  would  like  to  know.  It  hud  been  moAt  three  dayn,  and  we  hadn't  been  any- 
where together,  or  spoken  hardly,  and  I  hadn't  looked  him  in  the  eye,  or  he  inc.  Old 
Monder  Bry  he  wanted  to  keep  round  me  all  the  time,  and  have  double-runner  together. 
He  knew  we  two  hadn't  been  such  chums  as  we  useii  to  be,  so  he  came  up  to  me  and  said, 
**  Billy,  I  think  that  Dorry's  a  mean  sort  of  a  chap,  don't  you?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  I  said ;  "  he  don't  know  what  'tis  to  be  mean  I  "  Por  I  wasn't  going 
to  have  him  coming  any  Jersey  over  me  ! 

"  O,  you  nee<ln't  be  so  spunky  about  it ! "  says  he. 

**  I  ain't  spunky  !  "  says  I. 

Then  I  wont  into  the  school  room  to  stady  over  my  Latin  Grammar  before  school 
began,  and  sat  down  nmongst  the  boys  that  were  all  crowding  round  the  stove.  And  I 
WHS  studying  away,  ami  d  dn't  mini  'em  fooling  round  me,  for  I'd  lost  one  n.ark  day  be- 
fore, and  di  'n't  moan  to  Ioho  .iny  mor(%  for  yoo  know  what  my  father  prumiiicd  me,  if 
my  next  report  improveil  much.     And  while  I  was  t'itting  there.  Ktudying  away,  and 

drying  my  fe«'t,  for  we'd  been  hnvint;  darings,  and  W.  B he  stum])ed  me  to  jump  on  a 

place  when*  'twiis  rraiking,  ami  I  went  in  over  toptt  of  boots  antl  wet  my  feet  sopping 
wet.  And  I  didn't  notice  at  fbvt,  for  I  wasn't  looking  round  much,  but  ](x>kii)g  *-traight 
down  on  my  Ijitin  Or.tmninr,  and  didn't  notice  that  'most  all  the  boys  hail  gone  out. 
Only  about  half  a  dozen  left,  and  one  of  'em  wa«  Dorry,  nnd  ho  sat  to  the  rinht  of  me, 
aboutayanl  off,  studying  hln  lewon.  Then  another  boy  went  out,  and  then  another, 
and  by-and-by  every  one  of  them  was  gone,  and  left  us  two  sitting  therft,  O.  we  sat  just 
a-istiUI  I  kept  my  hea<l  down,  and  we  made  Iwlieve  think  of  nothing  but  just  the 
loNsun.  Fin-t  thing  I  knew  ho  moved,  and  I  Iooke«l  up,  and  there  was  Dorry  looking  me 
right  in  thee^e!  and  held  out  his  hand.  **  How  are  you,  sweet  William?'^  aHy»  he,  and 
laughed  some.  Then  I  dapitod  my  hnml  on  his  xhoulder,  "  Old  Dorrymac,  how  are  yoo?" 
says  I.    And  so  yoo  sea.  we  got  over  it  then,  r'ght  uway. 

Dorry  says  he  wasn't  asleep  that  morning  wh«n  I  stood  there,  only  making  beltere. 
Said  he  wished  Td  pull,  then  he  was  going  to  puil  too;  ai)d  wouldn't  that  been  a  funny 
way  to  make  up.  pnllinir  hair?  He's  hnd  a  letter  fn>m  Tom  Pn-h,  nnd  he'n  got  home,  bnt 
Is  going  away  again,  for  he  meMW  to  bo  a  re/nlar  sailor  and  get  to  Im>  capuin  of  a  great 
ship.    He's  ooming  here  next  week.    I  lM|>e  you  won't  forget  that  thirty-three.    Fd  jost 


176  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Part  HI. 

M  lives  hjive  fifty,  and  th»t  would  oome  better  in  the  letter,  don't  yoo  believe  it  wonld  ? 
That  photograph  aaloon  haa  ja«t  gone  by,  and  the  boys  are  ranning  down  the  road  to 
chase  it.  When  I)onry  and  I  aat  there  by  the  stove,  it  made  me  remember  what  uncle 
Jacob  aaid  about  our  piotare.  Your  affectionate  grandson, 

William  Hxhbt. 

ii.  Letters  of  Courtesy. — The  line  between  letters 
of  friendship  and  of  courtesy  cannot  be  drawn  arbitrarily, 
since  intimacy  may  clothe  a  note  required  by  courtesy  in  a 
garb  wholly  unconventional.  But,  in  general,  it  may  be 
said  that  while  letters  of  friendship  originate  in  the  im- 
pulse or  habit  of  the  writer,  and  depend  for  their  form 
and  nature  upon  his  mood,  letters  of  courtesy  are  demand- 
ed by  the  customs  of  society,  not  only  at  a  particular  time, 
but  also  of  a  particular  character. 

a.  Invitation. — Formal  notes  of  invitation  should  be 
simple,  direct,  and  definite.  Among  the  accepted  forms 
are  the  following : 

QSu,   Q^l^i  (£^e(^um^, 

^(^e^c/ay  Si^ntny,     June  20^    /8gS, 
al  eianl  o  cu>cH'. 

OSt.  anJ  QSu.    (ManA  (^.   (Mncl4, 

inmle  voti  lo  ^meel  meci  niece, 

Q4u(^   ^a^Uec  Q/oumsena, 

on  (3^U</au  (o^ent/n^,   at  Mx  o  cu^ck. 

2^-^  (Oc^t  ^^ne^ee 


Ohaf.  x]  letters  of  courtesy. 

Q//i.  an(/  Q/f/u.   (^oTHos    Jf  (^Con, 


177 


aUi 


T 


u 


lU  eiant  o  cwck. 
^4nity  ^^uic4,    I^o&lon,    Q/f^U. 


Reception, 

from   nine  till  eleven, 
92  Shawmut  Ave. 


Mr.  d  Mrs.  E.  L  Waierbury, 

At  Home, 

Thursdays  in  November. 

60  Belmont  St. 


Less  formal  is  the  following  from  Charles  Lamb : 

My  dear  Sir :  If  you  can  come  next  Sunday  we  shall  be  glad  to 
see  you.  Leg  of  Lamb,  as  before,  hot  at  4,  and  the  heart  of 
Lamb  ever 

Yours  truly,  C.  L. 

80th  March.  1821. 

b.  Acceptance  and  Regrets. — In  all  cases  where 
one  cannot  accept  an  invitation,  written  regrets  should  be 
sent  at  once,  that  the  hostess  may  know  for  how  many  she 
is  to  provide.  Written  acceptances  need  be  sent  only  when 
there  are  appended  to  the  invitation  the  letters  ^^  R.  S.  V. 


178  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Part  III. 

P."  {lidpondez,  s'il  v<yu8  j>lait—''Iiep\yy  please.")  The 
following  forms  will  be  a  sufficient  guide : 

^ment  hhU^  cC^iive  ^ei  o/  Ine  huasdie  o/  acce/ihna 
Of  a.  ana  Q'flu.  Q/fnim  s  inmlaHc^n  io  meel  Qm46^ 
Q/ou^nsena  on  Q/ueA€uiu  &i^entna. 

c.  Congratulation  and  Condolence.— Tidings 

of  joy  or  bereavement  require,  from  intimate  friends  at 
least,  brief  notes  of  sympathy.  No  form  of  correspondence 
affords  a  Iiappier  opportunity  for  revealing  true  friendship. 
He  who  can  so  put  himself  in  the  other's  place  as  to  know 
just  what  will  most  gratefully  touch  that  other's  heart, 
will  win  a  place  in  that  other's  affection  not  easily  at- 
tained. 

To  NoveUo,  who  had  just  lost  a  favorite  child,  Leigh  Hunt 
wrote : 

July  —  1820. 

This  comes  from  Leigh  Hunt,  merely  to  say  that  he  thinks  of 
his  friend  Vincent  Novello,  and  to  hope  that,  when  he  has  vented 
his  first  natural  feelings  on  the  death  of  one  so  dear  to  him,  he 
will  think  of  others  to  whom  he  himself  is  dear,  and  let  them  see 
him  as  soon  again  and  as  cheei-ful  again  as  possible. 


Chap.  X]       LETTERS  OF  COURTESY.  179 

d.    Introduction   and    Recommendation. — 

Persons  of  intiiience  are  overwhelmed  with  requests  for 
letters  of  introduction  and  recommendation.  So  to  phrase 
these  letters  as  to  satisfy  the  one  applying,  without  exceed- 
ing the  truth,  or  guaranteeing  that  of  which  one  has  no 
certainty,  is  no  easy  task. 

Caution  in  Owing  References. — Sanguine  or  unscrupu- 
lous persons  sometimes  give  references  to  prominent  per- 
sons whose  permission  they  have  not  asked,  in  the  hope 
either  that  the  one  they  hope  to  influence  will  be  satisfied 
by  tlie  name,  without  applying  for  information  ;  or  that  if 
information  is  asked,  a  good-humored  report  will  be  given. 
This  is  neither  honorable  nor  wise. 

The  following  letter  was  received  by  a  Western  board  of  educa- 
tion, from  a  gentleman  to  whom  a  candidate  for  the  office  of  Super- 
intendent had  *  *  referred :  " 

"  Dear  Sir :  Your  letter  of  the  8th  places  me  in  a  dehcate  posi- 
tion.    I  cannot  say  anything  good  of  Mr.  ,  and  I  do  not 

wish  to  say  anything  bad  of  him  which  will  prevent  his  leaving  the 
State.    I  must  therefore  decline  to  express  any  opinion. 

Yours  truly, ." 

Letter  introducing  Mr.  Audtibon  to  Lewie  Caee. 

Philaoblphi^  September  81),  1833. 

Mr  DlAB  OOTSEMOB  : 

I  do  not  know  when  I  have  done  a  more  aooepteble  aanrioe  to  my  feelinge^  nor  when 
I  h»Te  been  joat  in  a  aitaaUon  to  afford  aa  mndi  gratiflcation  to  joara,  as  in  preaenting 
to  yoor  Dotloa,  and  private  and  oOMal  friendship,  the  bearer,  Mr.  Andubon.  It  were 
■operflMNH  to  tell  yon  who  be  is;  the  whole  world  knows  him  and  respects  him,  and  no 
man  in  it  has  the  heart  to  oheriA  or  the  head  to  appreciate  hlm«  and  soch  a  man,  be- 
yond the  capacity  of  yourself. 

Mr.  Aodnboa  makes  no  mot*  of  tradcing  it  in  all  tfrsctions  OT«r  this,  and  I  may  add, 
oUmt  oeontrlsa,  than  a  sboi-aiBr  does  In  oro«iBg  the  heavs—.  He  goes  after  winged 
things,  bot  sometimes  needs  the  aid  of  at  least  a  few  fBathetm.  to  assist  him  the  bettsr 
to  fly.  He  means  to  ooaid  it  ««r«ln  round  Florida— make  a  track  throagh  Arkansan— go 
np  the  Missoori— pass  on  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  thenoe  to  the  Padfla    He  will 


180  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Pakt  IIL 

reqaire  tOBM  of  joor  offlciftl  aid.  I  took  an  nninerited  liberty  with  your  name  and  readi« 
nesR  of  purpose,  and  told  him  yon  were  the  verj/  man,  and  I  need  not  say  how  happy  I 
■hall  be  to  team  that  yoa  have  endoraed  my  promiM  and  ratified  it. 

Ood  bleat  you.    In  haste, 
To  the  Hon.  LBwn  Oass,  Th<m.  L.  McKivvkt. 

8$ermmrp  ^  Wat, 

Washington  City. 

III.  Letters  of  Business.— It  has  been  well  said 
that  the  form  of  a  business  letter  is  best  when  it  most 
clearly  and  quickly  answers  three  questions :  1.  Where  is 
this  letter  from  ?  2.  Whom  is  it  from  ?  3.  What  does 
he  want  ? 

Business  letters  from  purchasers  may  be  divided  into 
three  classes : 

a.  Letters  of  Inquiry,     h.  Orders,    c.  Bemittances, 

a.  Letters  of  Inquiry. — Miss  Anna  Louise  Jones,  teach- 
ing in  the  village  of  Centreville,  Onondaga  County,  has 
some  trouble  with  the  parents  of  one  of  her  pupils,  and 
wants  to  inform  herself  as  to  her  legal  rights  as  a  teacher. 
She  remembers  having  seen  a  small  book  called  School 
LaiOy  or  something  like  that,  which  is  probably  just  what 
she  wants ;  she  thinks  it  is  published  in  Syracuse,  and  pre- 
sumes it  is  one  of  the  School  Bulletin  Publications.  She 
is  not  quite  sure  what  the  firm-name  of  the  publishers  is, 
but  she  thinks  it  is  David  Barden  &  Co.,  or  something 
like  that.  There  is  nobody  at  hand  from  whom  she  can 
get  fuller  information.  How  shall  she  write  her  letter  ? 
If  she  is  like  many  teachers  we  know,  she  will  do  it  as  fol- 
lows : 


ucn  id-  ^ 


yon  na^i^  (2/cnooe  ^£au^  ana  non^  Tnucn  ^  ^ 


Cbaf.  X.)  BUSINESS   LETTERS. 

Oateide  she  will  address  the  envelope : 


181 


'7 


Q/yiacu^ 


CRITICISMS. 

(1)  To  begin  with  the  envelope,  for  unless  that  is  properly  ad- 
dressed it  makes  no  di£ference  how  the  letter  is  written  ;  it  will 
never  reach  the  person  addressed.  For  want  of  proper  direction 
fifteen  thousand  letters  a  day  are  sent  to  the  Dead  Letter  Office. 
Money  is  delayed  or  lost,  appointments  are  missed,  orders  are  un- 
filled, important  tidings  are  withheld — all  because  addresses  are 
not  complete  and  distinct. 

Now  if  Miss  Jones  were  absolutely  certain  that  the  firm-name 
was  David  Barden  <fe  Co.,  it  would  be  necessary  only  to  write  that 
name  distinctly,  with  the  name  of  the  city  and  State,  as  it  rarely 
happens  that  two  firms  in  the  same  place  have  precisely  the  same 
address. 

But  Miss  Jones  is  by  no  means  certain,  and  in  fact  she  is  en- 
tirely wrong.  The  firm-name  as  she  saw  it  was  Davis,  Bardeen  & 
Co.,  and  it  has  since  become  C.  W.  Bardeen.  The  envelope  as  ad- 
dressed is  qoite  unlikely  to  reach  its  destination.  What  should 
she  have  done  ? 

She  should  have  made  use  of  two  facts  she  knew,  (1)  that  the 
firm  were  publishers ;  and  (2)  that  their  books  were  known  as  The 
School  Bulletin  Publications.  Those  facts  she  should  have  indica* 
ted  upon  the  envelope,  as  corrections  to  any  error  she  might  have 
made.  If  she  was  much  in  doubt  about  the  latter  fact,  she  might 
have  put  after  that  lino  a  (?).    Thus : 


182  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Pabt  IU. 


That  letter  would  reach  its  destinatioii,  in  spite  of  the  error  in 
the  name.  The  general  principle  to  be  impressed  as  to  super- 
scriptions is  this  :  If  you  are  in  doubt  as  to  the  exact  address^  add 
any  particulars  you  hcqppen  to  know  that  may  assist  the  postmaster 
in  determining  tchom  you  mean. 

In  particular,  put  on  the  business,  and  the  street  and  number, 
whenever  you  know  them  or  can  easily  ascertain  them.  This  will 
almost  absolutely  prevent  blunders,  not  only  from  errors  of  the 
writer,  but  from  errors  of  the  postman.  "When  envelopes  were  ad- 
dressed to  DaWs,  Bardeen  &  Go..,  that  firm  frequently  got  letters  ad- 
dressed to  Darius  Baldwin,  a  capitalist  boarding  at  the  Bums  Ho- 
tel. More  than  once  these  letters,  opened  carelessly  with  the  rest  of 
a  mail,  contained  drafts  for  large  amounts, — once  for  some  five  thou- 
sand dollars.  One  dislikes  to  have  one's  mail  go  thus  astray,  no 
matter  into  whose  hands  it  may  fall,  and  these  letters  would  have 
gone  to  him  straight  if,  instead  of  being  addressed  : 


they  had  been  addressed  : 


Chap.  X.]  BUSINESS  LETTERS.  183 

(2)  Suppose  the  firm  had  got  the  letter,  it  would  still  have  been 
nseleBS  to  Miss  Jones,  because  she  does  not  give  her  post-office  ad- 
dress. She  heads  the  letter  "Centreville,"  but  Centreville  is  the 
name  only  of  the  village  where  she  lives  ;  the  post-ojfice  is  Plank 
Road.  An  answer  to  that  letter  would  be  directed  to  Centreville, 
Allegany  Co.,  N.  Y.,  and  as  it  would  be  simply  a  marked  price-list 
under  a  one-cent  stamp,  it  would  not  be  returned,  and  it  would  be 
supposed  that  Miss  Jones  had  received  it.  If  she  had  appended 
her  address  to  her  signature,  or  if,  forgetting  that  the  post-office 
was  different,  she  had  yet  added  the  county,  the  firm  would  have 
known  the  ix)st-office,  and  this  error  would  have  been  avoided. 
Large  firms  always  have  quite  an  amount  in  small  sums  credited 
to  people  who  have  sent  money  and  signed  their  letters,  but  have 
omitted  to  name  their  post-offices.  Sometimes  the  post-office  is 
named  and  the  letter  unsigned.  In  that  case  the  letter  may  be  re- 
turned to  the  postmaster,  who  discovers  the  writer  by  posting  up 
the  letter,  or  some  such  means,  if  he  does  not  recognize  the  hand- 
writing. But  when  the  post-office  is  not  given  and  the  name  is 
strange,  it  is  simply  imi)ossible  to  answer  the  letter  in  any  way. 

The  principle  involved  is  so  simple  that  to  reiterate  it  seems 
like  reminding  a  young  lady  to  wash  her  face.  And  yet  we  must 
impress  it  as  very  important  to  every  one  who  writes  a  business 
letter,  to  look  it  over  be/ore  sending,  and  he  sure  the  post-office  ad- 
dress is  given  in/tdl. 

(3)  Even  if  the  firm  had  known  her  ix)st-office,  it  is  doubtful  if 
a  reply  would  have  reached  Miss  Jones,  for  her  signature  is  usually 
recognized  as  the  signature  of  a  man  :  and  unless  the  hand-writing 
were  unmistakably  feminine  (and  that  means  a  great  deal;  very 
little  hand-\\Titing  is  uyimistakably  either  male  or  female),  the  firm 
would  address  the  reply  to 

Most  post-offices  have  a  men's  delivery  and  a  women's  delivery, 
and  this  envelope  would  be  put  into  the  men's  delivery  pigeon- 


184  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Pabt  in. 

hole.     When  Miss  Jones  called  for    her  letter  the  postmaster 
would  look  for  it  in  the  women's  delivery,  and  would  not  find  it. 
The  best  way  for  Miss  Jones  to  sign  her  name  is 

But  if  for  any  reason  she  does  not  wish  to  give  more  than  hei 
initials,  she  should  either  subscribe  herself 

fOf&iiJ  Q^.   Se.   /ones; 

or,  if  she  dislikes  to  do  this,  she  should  append  to  the  letter: 

GMu.  Q^.    Se.    /on^. 


Q4^.y 


Indeed  the  last  form  has  many  advantages  over  any  other,  and 
is  the  least  liable  to  mistakes  of  any  kind.  But  the  principle  in- 
volved is  :  Unless  the  address  is  elseickere  given  in  fully  an  unmar- 
ried ladt/*s  sigyiature  should  indicate  her  serr,  either  by  writing  one 
given  name  in  full^  or  bxf  prefi,Ting  (Miss)  ;  and  a  married  lady^s 
signature  should  be  prefia-ed  by  (Mrs.). 

(4)  If  all  these  corrections  had  been  made  in  Miss  Jones's  let- 
ter, she  would  have  got  the  information  desired,  for  she  would  have 
received  a  circular  with  description  and  price  of  Common  School 
Law  for  Common  School  Teachers.  But  the  firm  would  still  have 
felt  somewhat  uncertain  as  to  whether  that  was  just  what  she 
wanted,  as  the  abrupt  questions  she  asks  might  refer  to  the  new 
Code  of  Public  Instruction,  of  which  the  price  is  three  dollars.  If 
the  firm  knew  the  waiter  to  be  a  woman,  it  might  judge  that  she 
was  a  teacher,  and  that  the  Common  School  Law  would  cover  all 


Chap.  X.]  BUSINESS  LETTERS.  186 

pointfl  in  which  she  was  likely  to  be  interested.  But  if  the  writer 
was  supposed  to  be  a  man,  he  might  be  a  trustee,  and  the  question 
might  be  as  to  district  boundaries,  or  the  collection  of  taxes,  as  to 
which  the  Common  School  Law  has  nothing  to  say. 

So  when  Miss  Jones  was  so  uncertain  as  to  the  title  of  the  book, 
she  would  have  done  well  to  state  what  she  wanted  it  for,  and  to 
give  some  idea  as  to  its  size  and  appearance.  She  happened  to  hit 
so  near  the  title,  that  the  firm  publishing  the  book  would  re- 
cognize it ;  but  the  letter  would  have  been  unintelligible  to  the 
larger  New  York  book  houses. 

Put  into  proper  shape  and  written  with  courtesy,  Miss  Jones's 
letter  might  have  read : 

Q4e^.  SO,  /^^^. 


€€fnei6  se&n,  ln<U  leM  ti^nat  ale    Ine  ua<u  idjanU  o/ 

^u  yoa,  emd  at  a?t>y  uUe  0/   Mesa^ne  you  can  tuc 
me  awHit  it.      Q/f  yoa  ca/n  jMi/niiin  it,  ama  uhu  wute 
me  wAai  tAeAUce  u,  QfuH^un(/  /oi  it  at  <mce. 


&(it^ta  «Sf    Jimes. 


1S6  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Pabt  HI. 

h.  Orders. — Miss  Jones,  getting  a  marked  circular  which 
gives  tlie  name  and  price  of  the  book,  decides  to  order  it. 
She  follows  precedents  if  she  puts  a  silver  half-dollar  into 
the  following  letter : 

(^cnticv^  <^   W  Miu/een 
neU  u  naif  a  aoCuU  una  tne  w>o£  i^nl  auHiy 


ofie^. 


CRITICISMS. 

(1.)  In  the  first  place,  her  letter  containing  the  silver  half-dollar 
comes  with  **Duk  Two  Cents"  on  it.  A  half-dollar  weighs 
192.9  grains,  while  a  half -ounce  contains  only  218.75  grains,  leav- 
ing twenty-five  grains  for  the  writing-paper,  envelope,  and  the 
sheet  of  bro^sTi  paper  in  which  the  half-dollar  is  wrapped.  Please 
don't  send  silver  in  letters :  but  if  yon  do,  be  sure  to  prepay  all  the 
postage. 

Yet  there  in  %  worse  fault  thao  to  send  fdlrer  not  folly  prepaid,  ur  even  postage-stamps, 
which  many  firms  refuse.  That  is,  to  send  a  check  for  a  small  amount  on  a  local  bank. 
Some  iiersons  affect  this  way  of  sending  money,  partly  because  it  saves  them  from  the 
risk  of  loss  in  the  mails,  ptutly  because  il  saves  trouble,  and  partly  because  it  shoMrs 
that  they  keep  a  bank  account.  But  it  costs  the  firm  receiving  it  from  ten  to  twenty-five 
cents  to  collect  it,  and  though  a  firm  may  submit  to  the  imposition,  it  will  not  feel  kindly 
toward  the  person  who  attempts  it  A  check  before  us,  sent  from  Syracuse  to  Dawn,  Ohio, 
bears  upon  the  back  the  following  endorsements : 

(1)  "  Pay  to  order  of  Shelley  Sa  MertJ»,  A.  P.  Southwick '' ;  (2)  ♦'  Pay  to  order  of  Frames, 
Kiimich  &  Co.,  Shelley  &  Merts" ;  C3)  Pay  to  the  order  of  G.  B.  Harraan,  Cash,  Frames, 
Kumich  L  Co."  ;  (4)  "  Pay  D.  Clarke  or  order,  for  collection,  account  of  City  National 
Bank,  Dayton,  Ohio,  G.  B.  Harman,  Cashier";  (5)  "For  collection,  account  American 
Exchange  Bk,  New  York,  D.  Clarke.  Cashier"  ;  (0)  "The  R  .bert  Gere  Bank,  Syracuse, 
N.  Y.,  July  21,  1883,  Paid  -  :  (7)  "  State  Bank,  Syracuse,  July  24,  1883,  C23." 

All  these  endorsements  preceded  the  collection  of  the  check.  Of  course,  the  money 
was  returnc<l  through  as  many  hands  and  after  several  days'  delay. 

In  other  words,  this  check  p  'sse^l  thronirh  the  hands  of  six  banks,  every  one  of  which 
ha<l  to  make  a  record  of  it.  Suppose  it  was  for  fifty  cents,  or  any  small  amount  you  may 
be  sure  every  bank  clerk  that  entered  the  name  of  the  maker  of  the  check  would  curl  his 
lip  with  contempt  for  his  ignorance  of  business  principles.  If  one  keeps  a  bank  account 
one  can  get  from  a  bank  a  draft  on  a  New  York  bank  which  will  be  good  anywhere  for 


Chap.  X.]  BUSINESS  LETTERS.  18T 

iU  f«oe-TiUae.  But  tu  send  awuy  from  home  ii  check  on  a  local  bank  for  low  than  ten 
dollars  is  to  presume  unwarrantably  upon  the  good-natnrc  of  every  person  who  has  to 
handle  it. 

(2. )  In  the  second  place,  the  letter  being  unregistered  was  very 
likely  to  be  stolen.  It  costs  ten  cents  to  register  a  letter,  and  that 
seems  a  heavy  rate  of  insurance  to  pay  on  fifty  cents.  Yet  the  let- 
ter containing  money  should  be  registered  £^^EitY  time,  unless  the 
money  is  sent  as  a  draft  or  a  money-order.  Think  how  many 
hands  a  letter  passes  through  before  it  reaches  its  destination,  and 
every  hand  feels  that  half  dollar — a  skilful  hand  would  feel  a  bill, 
however  carefully  inserted.  It  is  impossible  for  business  firms  to 
hold  themselves  resi)onsible  for  money  sent  in  ujiregistered  letters, 
and  they  absolutely  refuse  to  do  so.  So  long  as  a  ten-cent  postage 
stamp  will  secure  i)erfect  safety,  customers  must  blame  themselves 
if  they  lose  their  remittances  by  failing  to  register  their  letters. 
In  fact  the  new  forms  of  money-orders,  and  the  express  money- 
orders  recently  introduced,  make  the  exi>ense  still  less,  so  that 
small  sums  may  be  sent  safely,  even  for  a  fee  of  three  cents. 

(3.)  But  if  the  fii-m  has  received  the  money,  and  if  it  credit  it  as 
fifty  cents  (though  it  really  brings  in  only  forty-eight),  what  is  it 
to  send  ?  *'  The  book  !  "  If  Miss  Jones  were  an  only  corre82)ond- 
ent,  or  if  the  firm  i)ublished  but  one  book,  this  might  be  easy. 
But  most  firms  publish  many  books,  and  such  letters  of  inquiry  as 
Miss  Jones's,  come  in  by  scores.  On  receipt  of  such  a  letter  as 
that,  a  clerk  would  go  back  over  the  correspondence  of  the  i^ast 
few  days  and  hunt  up  Miss  Jonos's  first  letter.  Probably  he  would 
send  her  the  book  she  wanted,  V)ut  only  after  wasting  a  half-hour 
to  atone  for  her  negligence. 

JKi^  Every  business  letter  sliould  he  complete  in  itseff. 

Having  ast^ertained  the  name  and  price  of  the  book  she  wanted, 
Miss  Jones  should  liavo  ordered  it  as  though  there  had  been  no 
previous  correspondence.  In  fact  the  letter  would  usually  go  to  a 
wholly  difier^nt  clerk,  who  would  liave  no  occasion  to  know  that 
any  other  letter  had  l)een  received. 

(4.)  To  say,  "  Send  the  book  right  away"  is  absolute  tautology. 
Of  coarse  a  business  house  fills  orders  promptly  as  a  matter  of 
routine,  and  regards  a  request  like  that  as  simple  evidence  of  inex- 
perience. 


188  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Part  III 

Tet  it  may  be  of  special  importance  that  Miss  Jones  get  the 
book  by  return  mail.  In  that  case  she  should  state  why.  It 
sometimes  hapx)ens  that  a  firm  is  out  of  a  particular  book,  and 
waiting  for  a  new  edition.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  an  order 
would  be  delayed  till  the  new  edition  came  in.  But  if  Miss  Jones 
explained  that  a  matter  in  which  she  was  interested  was  to  be 
brought  before  the  trustees  on  Tuesday  night,  and  she  must  have 
the  book  beforehand,  the  firm  would  search  every  library  in  the 
city  before  it  would  let  her  miss  receiving  the  book  in  time. 
"Please  send  right  away,"  is  a  phrase  so  common  as  to  be  mean- 
ingless, but  a  real  necessity  for  haste  will  lead  any  respectable 
firm  to  put  itself  to  inconvenience  to  accommodate  a  customer. 

Corrected,  then,  Miss  Jones's  letter  would  read  something  as 
follows : 


Q^.  J/,  /§§^. 

(3/Mr,   (2/  encw&e  in  Imd-  i^ai^Uiea 
ultel  jMi^  cenls,  /oi  umicn  /i/ease  ^ena 'me  ,^a^l<ie€n  s 

Q^  a  Tnaltei  in  umion  (2/  a?n  in^ie^lea  (4^  ^o  /^ 
aecuiecC  on  (S^liaau  ntant,  (2/  &na€e  /eee  o^ua€i/  i/ 
you  tmu  f'e  &€Ue  tnat  Ine  ^w-«  is  senl  a&  once. 

^o<iis  ie^Aecuuifu, 

Q^onna   ^.      Jones. 


Chap.  X.]  BUSINESS  LETTERS.  189 

0.  Remittcmces. — Looking  at  the  catalogue  of  books 
sent  with  the  Common  School  Law,  Miss  Jones  thinks  she 
would  like  a  "  Regents'  Grammar  and  Key,"  but  she  is  not 
sure  whether  Clark's  is  among  the  grammars  to  which  ref- 
erence is  made.  So  she  writes  that  she  would  like  the 
book  if  this  grammar  is  on  the  list  of  those  referred  to  ; 
if  it  is,  and  the  firm  will  send  the  bo<.^k,  she  will  forward 
the  money  at  once.  The  firm  sends  the  book  with  bill, 
and  presently  gets  this  letter : 


^entuv^^  encwua  Ana  one  cu>^uii,  Ai 
U  ai<im/mai  ney       6^  ^    Jones. 

CRITICISMS. 

(1.)  She  violates  the  rule  given  above,  that  every  business  letter 
should  be  complete  in  itself,  for  she  assumes  that  it  will  be  remem- 
bered that  she  ordered  the  book,  that  it  was  sent  to  her,  and  that 
this  is  to  pay  for  it. 

But  the  firm  remembers  nothing  about  A.  L.  Jones.  So  far  as 
answering  letters  is  concerned,  the  firm  employs  several  clerks, 
one  entering  orders,  another  posting  up  remittances,  another  an- 
swering inquiries,  and  each  knowing  little  about  the  work  done  by 
the  others. 

When  the  morning  mail  is  opened,  this  seems  to  be  an  order, 
and  is  referred  to  the  order  clerk.  He  enters  the  order  and  passes 
it  on  to  the  shipping-clerk.  Miss  Jones  is  astonished  to  get  an- 
other copy  of  the  "Regents'  Grammar  and  Key."  If  she  does  not 
write  and  ask  why,  or  return  it,  she  is  preHently  astonished  to  get 
a  bill  for  the  first  one,  that  she  supjwsed  she  had  paid  for.  Then 
she  gets  angry,  and  writes  that  the  firm  e\idently  intends  to  cheat 
her,  and  perhaps  half-a-<lozen  letters  pass  before  the  blunder  is 
detected  and  made  right  at  the  office  of  the  firm. 


190  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  (Part  III. 

All  this  would  have  been  avoided  had  Miss  Jones  written : 

(3/^  Q/  s^na  encu>^ea  nwTi^oiaei  /(A  one 
€U>^U,  {o  A€iy  me  ^^/oi  me  !2aeaenl  &  ^^ia^nmai 
OTta  c^ey  €imu>n  Q/  ieceivea  ye^teiclau. 

(3/nanAina  you  jk>i  ^efuuny   il  tin'moul  tt^tina 
M  me  money,   (2/  wm, 

^oaU  ie^^lA^, 

Qrnna  ^.      Jon€S. 

How  simple  all  these  details  are !  Yet  not  a  day  passes  that 
business  firms  do  not  receive  lettei-s  with  all  the  faults  we  have 
pointed  out.  There  is  no  hint  here  which  has  not  come  from  a 
long  experience  in  tiying  to  find  out  the  wants  of  teachers  who 
have  never  learned  to  express  themselves.  Let  ever}'  one  who 
reads  this  long  but  not  needlessly  lengthened  aiiicle  be  sure  that 
none  of  the  blunders  here  mentioned  are  found  in  his  letters. — 
The  School  Bulletin. 

Definite  Purpose. — It  is  not  necessary  in  a  general 
discussion  of  the  subject,  to  give  the  various  formulas  into 
which  custom  lias  moulded  the  letters  most  used  in  busi- 
ness, such  as  announcements,  solicitations,  letters  of 
credit,  notices  of  draft,  and  the  like.  But  it  is  to  be 
kept  in  mind  that  a  business  letter  is  pre-eminentlv  a  letter 
with  a  purpose :  that  enough  is  to  be  said  to  express  that 
purpose  clearly,  in  courteous  language,  but  that  not  one 


Chap.  X.]  NEWSPAPER  LETTERS.  101 

unnecessary  word  should  be  added.  Many  firms  receive 
two  thousand  letters  a  day  ;  and  no  business  men  have 
time  to  wade  through  four  pages  of  superliuous  informa- 
tion to  get  at  the  one  significant  sentence. 

Iv.  Newspaper  Letters. — First  ventures  in  author- 
ship are  usually  in  the  line  of  letters  to  local  newspapers. 

Jnyenis  Jones  goes  to  a  celebration  in  a  neighboring  city,  and 
feels  like  **  writing  it  up"  for  bis  neighbors.  So  he  sidles  into 
the  editor's  office,  remai-king,  with  a  fuiiive  glance,  that  he  has  been 
at  Rochester  attending  the  firemen's  parade,  and  that  maybe  he 
•  coukl  give  the  editor  a  point  or  two,  if  it  was  worth  while  to  say 
anything  abont  it  in  the  Palladium. 

He  is  gratified  to  see  how  readily  the  editor  accepts  his  services, 
and  goes  home  filled  with  zeal  to  prepare  a  stunning  report.  He 
sits  \i\)  all  night,  elaborates  his  recollections  into  ornate  para- 
graplLs,  coi)ies  a  dozen  foolscap  pages  because  of  a  blot  on  one  of 
them,  and  goes  to  sleep  with  inky  fingers  and  dreams  of  fame. 

Next  moniing  he  walks  ^\'ith  an  important  air  into  the  sanctnm, 
and  hands  the  manuscript  to  the  editor,  remarking  that  he  just  sat 
down  and  scribbled  it  off,  but  hoi)es  it  will  answer  for  a  hasty 
sketch.  The  editor  looks  at  it  critically,  sees  that  as  it  stands  it 
would  fill  three  columns,  but  tliat  with  the  introduction  and  con- 
clusion and  moralizing  omitted,  the  description  itstUf  will  come 
into  a  dozen  inches,  thanks  the  aspiring  author,  bows  him  out,  and 
mns  a  blue  lead  pencil  through  just  the  part  which  had  cost  nearly 
all  the  labor. 

Mr.  Jones  loiters  abont  the  office  with  ill-concealed  impatience, 
and  in  his  joy  to  find  something  of  his  own  actually  in  type,  forgets 
to  mourn  over  the  elaborate  })aragraphs  that  have  vaniHhtHl.  He 
now  considera  himself  attached  to  the  staff  of  the  newspai>er,  and 
boldly  offers  to  rejjort  every  affair  of  consequence  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. The  editor,  himself  no  Washington  Irving,  gladly  accepts 
the  enthusiastic  labor  thus  offered  without  charge,  and,  carefully 
eliminating  all  expressions  of  opinion  or  thought,  prints  week  after 
week  accounts  of  weddings  and  picnics,  which  tlie  young  man 
pMtesawaj  in  a  scrap-book,  labelled  on  the  outside,  '*  The  Complete 


192  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Part  III 

"Works  of  Ju vends  Jones.  Vol.  I."  Perhaps  he  becomes  local  cor- 
respondent of  a  city  daily,  paid  by  a  free  copy  of  the  weekly  edi- 
tion,  and  by  a  stock  of  envelopes  to  enclose  his  contributions, 
bearing  outside  the  printed  address  of  the  newspaper.  If  so,  he 
need  be  rather  more  than  human  not  to  grow  haughty  and  super- 
cilious. He  may  try  to  be  kind  to  those  about  him  ;  but  as  he  de- 
posits a  communication  which  he  knows  will  be  printed  next 
morning  in  an  influential  newspaper,  he  can  but  feel  the  sui^erior- 
ity  which  accompanies  the  reflection  that  the  safety  and  happiness 
of  his  neighbors  are  largely  in  his  own  hands.  It  is  indeed  a 
fearful  responsibility,  but  if  he  is  conscientious,  he  resolves  to  be 
just  and  fear  not.  Far-reaching  as  is  his  power,  he  will  not  clog 
the  wheels  of  the  universe ;  vice  shall  still  be  thwarted,  and  mod- 
est virtue  shall  be  rewarded. 

Suggestions. — While  the  letters  printed  by  local 
newspapers  do  not  command  mnch  literary  talent,  they 
offer  a  useful  field  to  young  persons  ambitious  to  become 
writers.  Practice  is  of  all  things  most  essential,  and  one 
is  often  stimulated  to  effort  by  feeling  that  what  one 
writes  will  certainly  be  printed.  This  assurance  may  be 
pretty  confidently  relied  upon  by  those  who  follow  these 
directions. 

a.  Have  Something  to  Tell. — Newspaper  letters  should  be  above 
all  things  gossipi/.  The  public  cares  nothing  for  your  general  re- 
flections on  manners,  science,  and  political  economy,  but  will  be 
glad  to  read  vivacious  descriptions  of  what  you  have  seen  and 
heard.  To  excel  as  a  correspondent  one  must  have  sharp  eyes, 
quick  ears,  and  an  ever-ready  note-book. 

Whether  it  is  something  to  tell  depends  not  upon  whether  it 
interests  you,  but  upon  whether  it  is  likely  to  interest  the  readers 
of  the  newspaper  you  are  writing  to.  That  Deacon  Smith  is  re- 
pairing his  stone  fence,  or  that  Mrs.  Jackson's  baby  has  the 
measles,  are  facts  momentous  to  the  households  concerned,  with- 
out being  of  the  least  import  to  the  multitude  who  read  the  paper. 

b.  Begin  Telling  it  at  Once. — Newspaj^er  readers  have  no  time 
to  waste  on  introductions.    Your  excuse  for  occupying  space  is 


Chap.  X.J         NEWSPAPER  LETTERS.  193 

that  you  have  Homething  to  tell,  and  you  must  prove  that  you  have 
by  telling  it  from  the  start.  The  more  abrupt  its  opening,  the 
more  likely  the  letter  is  to  be  read.  If  you  can  think  of  any  inci- 
dent typical  of  the  whole  affair,  or  any  vditj  remark  that  summar- 
izes it,  use  something  of  that  sort.  If  not,  you  can  at  least  be 
frank  and  straightfon^ard,  telling  your  story  simply,  and  begin- 
ning where  the  story  began. 

As  we  correct  this  proof  we  find  the  following  in  the  morning 
newspaper : 

"  PoMPXT,  Aogiut  8.— Again  are  we  reminded  that  life  is  but  the  gate  to  eternity. 
The  Angel  of  Death,  tometimea  called  the  '  King  of  Terrors,'  has  this  time  snmmoned 
I  old  residents  of  Pompey  to  that  bourne  whence  no  traveller  retm^s.   The  first  was," 


Contrast  with  this  introduction  the  following  from  the  Atlanta 
Constitution : 

WABHiMOTOif,  Jan.  8.—**  You  will  now  witness,"  said  Emory  Speer,  as  with  Mr. 
Eburington,  of  Columbus,  we  filed  into  the  Federal  court-room  in  this  city,  "  the  most 
famoQs,  and,  in  many  respects,  the  mo«t  interesting  trial  on  record." 

The  court-room  was  packed.  As  we  entered  the  voice  of  the  sheriff  was  heard  order- 
ing the  doors  cloeed,  as  there  was  standing  room  for  no  more  people  in  the  court-room. 
The  crowd  was  of  a  better  class  than  I  had  expected  to  find.  The  most  elegant  women 
and  men  of  potdtion  and  character  made  up  the  staple,  with  here  and  there  a  strip  of 
roogh  people,  admitted  by  the  connivance  of  some  doorkeeper  or  stibordihate 

'*  If  ever  I  saw  a  hanging  jury,"  said  Speer,  "  that  is  one.  I  have  studied  it  carefully, 
and  in  the  light  of  considerable  experience,  I  think  it  is  the  moet  determined  jury  I  ever 
saw.  Along  either  line  there  is  not  a  face  that  promises  the  least  sort  of  sentiment  or 
qnalmisbneaa.  Even  the  third  juror  in  the  front  row,  who  goes  to  dozing  in  the  first  half 
boar,  and  sleeps  peacsfnlly  until  the  bailiff  rouses  him  at  the  close  of  the  session,  wakss 
with  a  rigor  that  ill-betides  the  prisoner.  It  is  rumored  that  some  of  the  jurors  have 
hereditary  insanity  in  their  families,  and  that  this  may  cause  a  mistrial.  This  is  hardlj 
proliable,  though.    Onitesa  Is  before  a  hanging  jury,  if  ever  any  man  was."    Etc. 

c  TeQ  it  Compactfy.— This  is  done,  not  by  vaguely  mentioning 
a  dozen  things,  but  by  minutely  describing  the  one  of  the  dozen 
whicli,  fairly  grasped,  \*'ill  suggest  all  the  rest.  A  single  incident 
in  detail,  a  bit  of  conversation  word  for  word,  each  typical  of  the 
time  and  place,  will  make  the  scene  more  real  than  any  amount  of 
generalizing.  Don't  talk  about  **  A  portly  gentleman  from  an  in- 
terior village,"  but  give  his  name.  Be  direct,  definite,  epigram- 
matic, and  let  your  reader  draw  his  own  conclusions. 

d.  Stop  trhen  you  are  Through  Telling  It. — If  you  have  a  spe- 
cially characteriatio  incident,  save  it  for  the  last,  and  let  your  reader 


194  KINDS  OF  LETTERS.  [Pakt  III 

dose  with  a  smack  of  his  lips.  But  if  you  can't  be  witty  or  start- 
ling, you  can  at  least  be  simple,  and  stop  when  the  story  stops. 

e.  Hecul  over  your  Mcmuscript. — In  the  zeal  of  accomplishment, 
young  writers  are  apt  to  feel  an  impulse,  as  they  reach  the  last  page, 
to  do  up  the  manuscript  at  once  and  send  it  off  without  looking  it 
OTsr.  This  is  an  unpardonable  mistake.  The  re-reading  and  re- 
writing are  the  most  valuable  part  of  this  practice.  The  first  draft 
should  be  composed  rapidly,  Ti-ithout  too  much  search  for  each 
expression,  but  with  the  main  purpose  to  reproduce  the  scene  as 
vividly  as  possible.  But  in  revision,  each  sentence  should  be 
weighed  and  turned.  Does  it  express  my  meaning  unmistakably  ? 
Is  it  forcible  ?  Is  this  just  the  right  word  ?  Would  that  be  re- 
garded as  a  low  or  slang  expression  ?  If  one  hopes  some  time  to 
write  better  than  local  letters,  one  must  write  these  local  letters 
with  all  possible  care. 

Especially  is  it  important  to  cJiop  up  the  paragraphs.  The  read- 
er's attention  is  attracted  by  open  spaces.  One  of  the  charms  of 
rapid  dialogue  in  print  is  that  the  eye  can  grasp  a  sentence  or 
two  at  a  glance,  without  boring  into  a  solid  paragraph.  For  this 
as  well  as  other  reasons,  preference  should  be  given  to  dialogue 
over  description.   In  general,  seek  to  be  crisp,  as  well  as  compact. 

/.  Don't  forget  to  write  (1)  with  thoroughly  black  ink,  (2)  on  one 
side  (3)  of  small  images,  commercial  note  j^referred,  (4)  carefully 
numbered,  and  (5)  never  rolled. 

The  Possibilities  of  newspaper  correspondence  are 
daily  widening.  Already  some  of  the  best  and  the  best- 
paid  literary  work  in  the  world  appears  as  letters  in  the 
great  dailies.  No  kind  of  writing  is  more  eagerly  sought 
for  or  more  liberally  rewarded  than  the  gathering  of  news. 
He  who  has  learned  what  is  news,  how  to  get  it,  and  how 
to  tell  it,  may  achieve  less  literary  fame  than  Homer,  but 
he  will  not  need  to  beg  in  seven  cities  for  bread. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Kinds  of  letters,  p.  171. 
I.   Friendship,  p.  172. 

What  to  write,  p.  173.  * 

The  great  mistaie,  p.  174. 
n.  Courtesy,  p.  174. 

a.  Invitations,  p.  176. 

b.  Acceptance  and  regrets,  p.  177. 

c.  Congratulation  and  condolence,  p.  178. 

d.  Introduction  and  recommendation,  p.  179. 
in.  Business. 

a.  Letters  of  inquiry,  p.  180. 

1.  The  envelope,  p.  181. 

2.  The  post-office  address,  p.  183. 

3.  The  signature,  p.  183. 

4.  Description  of  article  wanted,  p.  184. 

b.  Orders. 

1.  Sending  money,  p.  186. 

2.  Registering  letters,  p.  187. 
8.  Should  be  complete,  p.  187. 

4.  If  needed  at  once,  say  why,  p.  187. 
f.  Remittances,  p.  189. 

SUte  for  what,  p.  189. 
Definite  purpose,  p.  190. 
IV.  Newspaper,  p.  191. 
Suggestions. 

a.  Have  something  to  tell,  p.  102. 

b.  Begin  telling  it  at  once,  p.  192. 
e.   Tell  it  compactly,  p.  193. 

d.  Stop  when  you  are  through  telling  it,  p.  193. 

e.  Read  over  your  MS.,  p    194. 

/.  Don't  forget:  (I)  black  ink,  (2)  one  side,  (3)  small  pages, 
(4)  numbered,  (5)  not  rolled,  p.  194. 


CHAPTER  XL 

GENERAL  RULES    FOR   LETTER-WRITING. 

a.  Answer  Promptly. — Letters  worthy  to  be  an- 
swered at  all  deserve  to  *  be  answered  promptly ;  not 
necessarily  at  once,  bat  at  the  first  suitable  opportunity. 

This  is  important  to  both  correspondents.  The  original  writer 
will  take  more  interest  in  a  reply  that  is  received  before  the  sub- 
jects of  which  he  wrote  have  passed  out  of  his  mind ;  and  the 
other  will  write  a  better  reply  while  the  stimulus  of  the  original 
letter  is  still  fresh.  Many  a  young  person  has  times  when  he 
**  feels  just  like  "  writing  a  certain  letter,  and  would  have  written 
an  excellent  one.  But  he  is  out  of  pai)er,  or  cannot  find  his  ink, 
and  delays  writing  till,  weeks  afterward,  he  is  shamed  into  padding 
out  four  pages  with  a  formal  and  utterly  characterless  answer. 

In  business,  a  prompt  reply  is  imi>erative.  To  let  lie  unan- 
swered, day  after  day,  letters  of  proper  inquiry,  is  an  unpardon- 
able breach  of  business  etiquette. 

Letters  asking  for  information  should  always  enclose  a  stamp 
for  reply.  Letters  enclosing  a  stamp  must  be  answered  at  once, 
even  if  one  declines  to  give  the  information  demanded,  and  if  one 
merely  encloses  in  the  envelope  the  statement  that  one  so  declines 
to  do. 

b.  Write  Frankly  but  Discreetly. — The  charm 
of  a  letter  is  its  easy  frankness,  but  one  should  never  for- 
get that  it  may  constitute  a  permanent  record.  Many 
persons  keep  all   letters   received,  and  these   documents 


Chap.  XI.]  HOW  TO  WRITE.  197 

sometimes  reappear  unexpectedly  and  disastrously,  years 
after  it  was  supposed  they  were  buried  in  oblivion.  So 
one  should  be  sure  that  expressions  of  affection  are  kept 
inside  the  boundary  of  gush,  and  that  sentiment  stops  this 
side  of  sentimentality.  Especially  in  matters  of  gossip 
should  one  be  sure  that  only  truth  is  told,  and  that  it  is 
so  told  as  to  do  no  injustice  or  unkindness,  even  though  a 
third  eye  some  time  read  the  pages. 

You  ask  for  some  of  yoiir  late  father's  letters.  I  am  sorry  to 
say  I  have  none  to  send  you.  Upon  principle,  I  keep  no  letters 
except  those  on  business.  I  have  not  a  single  letter  from  him, 
nor  from  any  human  being,  in  my  possession. — Sydney  Smpfh  to 
R.  Mackintosh. 

c.  Write  Naturally  and  Directly. — Don't  say, 
"  In  the  opinion  of  the  undersigned,"  or  "  If  your  humble 
servant  may  be  believed,"  when  you  mean  "I  think." 
Avoid  all  circumlocutory  phrases.  To  struggle  at  a  genu- 
ine idea  which  it  seems  difficult  or  even  impossible  ade- 
quately to  express,  is  entirely  allowable  ;  but  it  is  unpar- 
donable to  smother  a  common-place  reflection  under  a 
mountain  of  laborious  words.  • 

Never  try  to  write  a  long  letter — never  allow  yourself,  indeed, 
to  write  one,  unless  you  have  so  much  to  say  that  you  cannot  help 
it.  A  long-winded  letter  is  only  more  endurable  than  a  long-winded 
talker,  l)ecau8e  you  skip  the  letter,  but  the  talker  won't  let  you 
skip  him.  Say  what  you  have  to  say  as  briefly  as  is  consistent 
with  saying  it  clearly,  and  avoid  alike  long  words  and  long  sen- 
tences. It  is  better  to  **  say  '*  than  to  *'  ob8er\e,"  to  "  talk  "  than 
to  "converse,"  to  "state"  than  to  "  formulate,"— in  fine,  short 
words  and  short  sentences  belong  to  letter-writing,  which  is 
nothing  if  not  easy  and  crisp.  First  have  something  to  say.  If 
there  is  any  occasion  for  a  letter  at  all,  that  occasion  is  its  subject 
Say  what  you  have  to  say,  and  be  contented  to  stop  when  it  is 


19S         GENERAL  RULES  FOR  LETTER-WRITING.      [Part  ni 

said.  If  yon  have  the  good  foitnne  to  be  witty  or  brilliant,  or 
original  in  your  way  of  looking  at  things,  your  lett«r  will  be  clever ; 
but  if  you  are  none  of  these  you  can  be  prompt,  brief,  and  court- 
eous, and  then  you  wiU  have  written  the  letter  of  a  lady  or  a  gen- 
tleman, if  not  of  a  Madame  de  S(ivign6  or  a  Horace  Walpole. — 
LouiSB  Chandler  Moulton. 

Depend  upon  it,  my  reader,  that  the  straightforward  and 
natural  writer  who  frankly  uses  the  first  person  singular,  and  says, 
"  I  think  thus  and  thus,"  "  I  have  seen  so  and  so,"  is  thinking  of 
himself  and  his  own  personality  a  mighty  deal  less  than  the  man 
who  is  always  employing  awkward  and  roundabout  forms  of  ex- 
pression to  avoid  the  use  of  the  obnoxious  /.  Every  such  peri- 
phrasis testifies  unmistakably  that  the  man  was  thinking  of  him- 
self ;  but  the  simple,  natural  writer,  warm  with  his  subject,  eager 
to  press  his  views  upon  his  readers,  uses  the  /  without  a  thought 
of  self,  just  because  it  is  the  shortest,  most  direct,  and  most 
natural  way  of  expressing  himself.  The  recollection  of  his  own 
personality  probably  never  crossed  his  mind  during  the  composi- 
tion of  the  paragraph  from  which  an  ill-set  critic  might  pick  out 
a  score  of  /'s.  To  say,  "  It  is  submitted,"  instead  of  "I  think," 
"  It  has  been  observed,"  instead  of  "  I  have  seen,"  "  the  present 
writer,"  instead  of  *'  I,"  is  much  the  more  really  egotistical.  You 
use  the  readiest  and  most  unaffected  mode  of  speech  to  set  out 
your  thougiits  of  it.  You  have  written  /a  dozen  times,  but  you 
have  not  thought  of  yourself  once. — Fraser's  Magazine. 

d.  Be  sure  your  Penmanship  is  Distinct. — 

"  To  write  a  letter  with  negligence,  without  stops,  with 
crooked  lines  and  great  flonrislies,  is  inelegant.  It  argues 
either  great  ignorance  of  wliat  is  proper,  or  great  impu- 
dence toward  the  person  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  It 
makes  no  amends  to  add  an  apology  for  having  scrawled 
a  sheet  of  paper,  for  Lad  pens,  because  you  should  have 
had  good  ones;  or  want  of  time,  for  nothing  is  more  im- 
portant to  you,  or  to  which  your  time  can  more  properly  be 
devoted." — Lord  Collingwood. 


Chap.  XI. ]  ILLEGIBLE  PENMANSHIP.  1^0 

In  May,  1869,  Horace  Greeley  wrote  as  follows,  in  reply  to  an 
invitation  to  lecture : 

DXAB  8ta :— I  am  overworked  and  Rowing  old.  I  shall  be  sixty  next  February  3d. 
On  the  whole,  it  seems  that  I  mnst  decline  to  lecture  henceforth,  except  in  thiH  imme- 
diate vicinity,  if  I  do  at  all.  I  cannot  promise  to  visit  Illinois  on  that  errand — certainly 
not  now.  Yours, 

HOBACB  ObKKIXT. 

M.  B.  Cabtlx,  Sandwich,  IlL 

He  was  surprised  to  receive  by  return  mail  the  following  letter : 

SlHDWlCB,  May  12th. 

HOKAOB  GUCKUET, 

New  York  Tribune. 

Dkak  Sib:— Your  acceptance  to  lecture  before  our  aRsociation  next  winter,  came  to 

hand  this  morning.     Your  penmanship  not  being  the  plainest,   it  took  some  time  to 

translate  it,  but  we  succeeded,  and  would  say,  your  time—"  Febniary  3d,"  and  terms— 

*'  9^  "  are  entirely  satisfiMstory.— As  you  suggest,  we  may  be  able  to  get  you  other  en- 

I  in  this  immediate  vicinity  ;  if  so,  we  will  advise  you. 

Yours  respectfully, 

M.  B.  Castlk. 

But  this  is  Mr.  Greeley's  signature. 


It  is  said  that  the  late  Deem  Richmond,  when  president  of  the 
Hudson  River  Railroad,  stopped  one  day  at  a  station  where  the 
agent,  not  recognizing  him,  treated  liim  with  great  rudeness.  On 
returning  to  his  office,  Mr.  Richmond  wrote  the  agent  a  severe 
letter,  discharging  him.  The  agent  departed,  but  Mr.  Richmond's 
letter,  of  which  the  signature  alone  was  easily  legible,  he  used  for 
several  years  as  a  free  jjass  over  Mr.  Richmond's  own  railroad. 

An  importing  merchant  wrote  to  his  agent  in  Africa  to  send  him 
by  next  cargo  **  1  or  2  monkovs."  He  was  astonished  to  got  a<l- 
yice  that,  the  market  l)oing  short,  the  agent  had  been  able  to  send 
•Illy  702  by  the  first  vessel,  but  would  send  the  other  500  later. 
On  explanation  it  proved  that  the  merchant's  "or"  ha«l  bc«'u 
written  liko  two  ciphers,  making  **  1  or  2"  reatl  "  1002. 

This  illnstratos  one  reason  why,  in  important  comiuiiiii..iii..ii.s, 
numbers  should  be  )»Titten  out  in  words  instead  of  in  figures. 


200         GENERAL  RULES  FOR  LETTER- WRITING.     [Part  IIL 

Even  then  the  words  mnst  be  written  distinctly.     Note  the  follow- 
ing from  the  Penman's  Art  Journal: 


// 


e.  Be  Careful  Where  you  put  Your  Signa- 
ture.—This  is  not  the  place  to  warn  against  knowingly 
endorsing  commercial  paper — a  habit  which  has  brought 
many  a  man  to  penury.  But  it  should  be  observed  that, 
if  a  genuine  signature,  however  obtained,  is  appended  to 
a  promissory  note  or  other  business  obligation,  the  law 
holds  that  the  note  is  good  in  the  hands  of  an  innocent 
holder.  For  this  reason,  one  should  never  write  a  signa- 
ture in  the  middle  of  a  blank  scrap  of  paper,  and  when 
appending  it  to  a  letter  or  other  document  should  write  it 
in  close  connection  with  the  matter  above,  that  nothing 
else  may  be  written  between. 

How  important  these  precautions  are  may  be  judged  from  the 
ingenuity  shown  by  swindlers  in  obtaining  signatures.  The  fol- 
lowing  is  an  illustration  of  the  devices  employed  : 

An  agent  approaches  a  farmer  with  a  seeding-machine,  explain- 
ing its  operation,  and  inviting  the  farmer  to  become  sole  agent  foi 
it.  As  the  t«rms  seem  to  involve  no  risk,  the  farmer  consents, 
and  signs  the  following  contract : 


Chap.  XI.  ] 


IMPORTANCE  OF  SIGNATURES. 


201 


IVDIARAFOUI,  In)., 1881. 

Ontjwur  after  date,  I  promise  to  pay ^,  or 

Older,  Three  Hoodred  and  Twenty-flre  Dollars 
for  ■nine  receiTed,  at  aix  per  cent,  per  anntun, 
payable  at  Indianapolis,  Ind. 


bearer  Thirty  Dollars  when  I  sell  by 
worth  of  Patent  Seeding  Machines 
said  Thirty  Dollars,  when  due,  to  be 

Sole  Agent  for Company. 


The  dotted  line  here  shown  does  not  appear  on  the  contract,  of 
course,  but  as  soon  as  the  name  is  signed  the  swindler  has  only  to 
divide  the  paper  at  the  place  indicated,  in  order  to  convert  a  con- 
ditional contract  for  thirty  dollars  into  a  promissory  note  for  three 
hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars. 

f.  Fold  Neatly. — The  paper  commonly  used  for 
writing  letters  is  called  "  Commercial  Note,"  the  page 
being  about  5 J  x  S^  inches.  This  folds  into  the  ordinary 
No.  5  envelope  as  follows  : 


a         :  b         :  0 


a  being  the  top  of  the  letter,  c  is  folded  over  ft,  anfl  then  a  is 
brought  down  over  c,  the  leaf  or  loaves  being  divided  into  turee 
nearly  equal  i)art«,  though  h  will  bo  a  triflo  wider  than  c  and  a. 
"  Letter-size  "  sheets,  abou  8^  x  10^  inches,  being  about  doable 


203         GENERAL  RULES  FOR  LETTER  WRITING.     (Part  IIL 

the  size  of  "  commercial  note,"  require  a  fold  in  the  middle  be- 
fore dividing  into  thirds. 


If  a  is  the  top  of  the  sheet,  fold  b  upon  «,  and  then  fold  as  in 
the  example  of  Commercial  Note. 

For  other  sizes  of  paper,  measure  with  the  envelope  before  fold- 
ing, to  find  how  few  and  which  folds  will  enable  the  sheet  to  go 
freely  but  not  too  loosely  within  the  envelope.  Of  all  the  blunders 
of  careless  letter-wiiters,  none  is  more  exasperating  than  to  crease 
the  sheet  this  way  and  that  way,  in  a  dozen  vain  attempts  to  jmt  a 
rectangle  3^  by  5}  inches,  into  an  envelope  3^  by  5,  and  finally  to 
pound  the  crumpled  and  sweat-soiled  sheet  into  a  little  pudg\^ 
mass  that  swells  up  a  comer  of  the  enveloi^e  like  a  tumor. 

The  onejn dispensable  characteristic  of  a  letter  is  Neatness  ;  and 
neatness  always  involves  calculation,  as  well  as  care.  There  is  always 
one  way  of  folding  that  will  best  adapt  a  given  sheet  of  paper  to  a 
given  envelo]^,  and  that  way  should  be  detei-mined  before  the  fold- 


ing is  begun. 


It  is  well  to  fold  the  sheet  with  a  pajjer-knife. 


Chap.  XI.  ]  THE  SUPERSCRIPTION. 

g.  Direct  Carefully. — The  form  of  direction  upon 
the  envelope  has  been  conventionally  determined  as  fol- 
lows: 


It  will  be  noted  : 

(1)  The  stamp  is  placed  in  the  upper  riglit-hand  corner, 
near  the  edge,  but  leaving  slight  and  even  margins  on  top 
and  side. 

(2)  The  name  and  the  honorary  titles  should  be  upon 
the  first  line. 

Actual  honorary  titles  should  not  be  omitted,  unless  by  known 
preference  of  the  person  addressed.  Where  several  titles  belong 
to  a  single  individual,  a  greater  excludes  a  less  of  the  same  kind. 
Thus  if  one  is  ••  A.M.,  Ph.  D.,  LL.D.,"  the  last  will  be  sufficient. 
"D.D.,  LL.D.,'*  invoh-ing  lUfierent  distinctions,  should  both  be 
retained.  Although  "  D.D."  is  sometimes  given  to  those  not  clergy- 
men, it  is  customary  to  omit  the  •♦Rev."  beforo  a  name  when 
•♦  D.D.*'  follows.  " M.D."  following  a  name  is  preferable  to  "Dr." 
preceding,  and  ♦*  Mr."  before  a  name  is  preferable  to  ♦'  Esq."  fol- 
lowing.    The  prefix  "Hon.**  is  used  very  loosely.     It  belongs 


204         GENERAL  RULES  FOR  LETTER-WRITING.     [Part  IIL 

properly  to  Members  of  Congress,  and  some  high  oflices  of  Govern- 
ment, but  18  often  coveted  by  Members  of  Legislatures  and  vari- 
ous petty  officials.     The  following  are  usual  forms  : 

(^0u  (OxceMnou, 

^i^  of  emu.  fU£. 

Oxec(df)u6  QfCa/nuon, 


The  same  rules  as  to  titles  apply  to  the  address  with  which  a 
letter  opens,  the  general  form  and  arrangement  of  which  appear  in 
the  letters  quoted. 

(3)  The  oflScial  position  occupied,  if  any,  should  be 
named  in  the  second  line.  This  is  due  to  the  person  ad- 
dressed, as  well  as  a  security  against  mistake. 

Where  the  person  addressed  occupies  no  official  sta- 
tion, the  county  may,  if  so  preferred,  be  written  under 
the  post-office,  instead  of  to  the  left. 

(4)  In  general  appearance,  the  three  or  four  main  lines 
of  the  superscription  should  fall  between  oblique  parallel 
lines,  something  as  follows,  and  exact  directions  as  to  ar- 
rangement should  be  subordinate  to  considerations  of  gen- 
eral effect : 


CHAP.  XI.]  IMPERFECT  8UPEHSCRIPT10NS.  205 

(5)  Remember  that  though  an  address  may  be  fa- 
miliar to  yon,  it  is  not  necessarily  so  to  tlie  scores  of  post- 
office  clerks  through  whose  hands  the  letter  may  pass.  It 
is  therefore  even  more  essential  in  the  superscription  than 
elsewhere  that  the  hand -writing  be  distinctly  legible. 

The  average  of  misdirected  letters  sent  up  to  this  department  is 
over  Ave  hundred  a  day  ;  the  day  I  was  there  last  it  ran  up  to  about 
one  thousand.  The  most  difficult  of  these  go  to  Mr.  Stone,  who 
is  called  "the  blind  man,"  perhai)s  because  he  can  decipher  an 
inscription  that  is  utterly  illegible  to  any  other  man  in  Amer- 
ica. His  most  difficult  cases  are  the  foreign  letters.  Here  is  a 
letter  directed  to  "  Sanduik,"  which  he  makes  out  to  be  Sandy 
Hook.  Sometimes  the  arrangement  of  the  name  and  address  la 
curious. 

Vor  Mr.  thomaa 
Smith  Bridge 


Conn.  America 

is  very  plain  when  you  once  understand  that  it  is  "  For  Mr.  Thomas 
Smith,  Bridgeport,  Conn.,  Aiuerica."  But  when  a  man  says 
"  Hoio,"  how  is  anybody  but  a  blind  man  to  know  that  he  means 
Ohio?  One  letter  reads,  "Best  Fott  Rue  de  Ague."  Now  the 
blind  man  knows  that  '•  Rno  de  Agno "  is  Simnish  for  Water 
Street,  and  that  there  is  a  Water  Street  in  New  Bedford,  Massa- 
chusetta.  *'  Lysram.  Warner  Co.,"  he  translates  into  Luzerne, 
Warren  Co. ;  and  "  Common  County,  P.  A.,"  is  made  into  Camer- 
on County,  Pennsylvania.  But  who  would  guess  that  *'  Ovem 
C.  D.  Learey,"  in  one  line,  means  that  it  is  to  go  to  A  ubuniy  in 


206         GENERAL  RULES  FOR  LETTER- WRITING.     (Part  IH. 

search  of  C.  D.  L.  ?  One  letter  is  directed  to  ♦*  Kunstauzer 
Branerei,  S.  L,  Amerika."  Mr.  Stone  recollects  the  fact  that 
Constance's  Brewery  is  at  Stapleton,  Staten  Island,  and  the  letter 
is  sent  there.  He  reads  "Iolel"into  Iowa,  and  "te  Pella,  in 
Yomah,"  he  makes  to  go  to  Pella,  in  the  same  State.  Nor  does 
Ohio  get  off  with  one  miss.  Here  is  one  letter  that  wants  to  go 
to  **  Stadt  Hioh  Zunsounati,  Strasse  15/'— that  is  to  the  State  of 
Ohio,  Cincinnati,  Street  15.  But  that  is  not  all.  This  other  one 
wants  to  reach  the  same  city ;  but  it  has  a  bad  spell  of  another 
kind,  for  its  direction  runs  "  Scitznaty."  And  then  •'  Pizzo  Burg 
Messessip,"  is  sent  to  Vicksburg.  Michigan  is  si^elled  •*  mutting." 
*' Glass  works  Berkshire"  is  sent  to  Pittsfield,  in  Berkshire 
County,  Massachusetts,  where  there  is  a  glass  factory.  But  the 
hardest  one  I  saw  was  addressed  to  "John  Hermann  Schirmen," 
in  one  line,  with  the  wonderful  word  "  Staguekaundo "  for  the 
rest.  Mr.  Stone  cut  the  word  in  twain,  and  read  it  **  Chautauqua 
County,"  while  he  translated  the  whole  into  "John  Hermann, 
Sherman  P.  O.,  Chautauqua  County,  N.  Y."—The  Century. 

Care  should  be  taken  that  abbreviations  used  in  titles,  etc., 
are  correct  and  free  from  ambiguity.  A  letter  addressed  as  follows 
was  received  by  a  gentleman  attending  a  deaf  and  dumb  associa- 
tion: 

mome.    G^.y. 

(6)  Finally,  don't  forget  to  seal  yonr  letter,  and  to 
stamp  it.  Commonplace  as  this  direction  seems,  it  is  vio- 
lated every  day  in  almost  every  city  and  county  of  the 
land,  and  not  nnfreqnently  by  those  whose  position  and 
experience  should  render  it  ludicrously  impossible. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


GENERAL  RULES. 

a.  Answer  promptly,  p.  196. 

b.  Write  frankly  but  discreetly,  p.  196. 
e.  Write  naturally  and  directly,  p.  197. 

d.  Be  sure  your  j>enmanship  is  distinct,  p.  198. 

e.  Be  careful  where  you  put  your  signature,  p.  200. 
/.   Fold  neatly,  p.  201. 

g.  Direct  carefully,  p.  203. 

(1)  Stamp,  p'20;i. 

(2)  Name  and  titles,  p.  203. 

(3)  Official  position,  p.  204. 

(4)  Slant,  p.  204. 

(5)  Write  distinctly,  p.  205. 

(6)  Seal  and  stamp,  p.  206. 

EXAMPLES  OF  LETTERS. 
Dear  Sir: 

On  the  evo  of  my  departure  to  visit  all  parts  of  the  island,  and  after- 
ward the  principal  cities  of  the  continent,  1  feel  an  ardent  desire  to  l)e 
honored  by  being  the  bearer  of  a  few  lines  from  your  own  hand  to 
whomever  you  may  please  to  introduce  me.  I  beg  this  of  you  with  the 
hop<'  that  my  efforts  to  advance  ornithological  studies,  by  the  publica- 
tion of  my  collections  and  manu.scripts  may  be  thovight  worthy  of  your 
kind  attention.s,  and  an  excuse  lor  tlius  intruding  on  your  pret^ious  mo- 
ments Should  you  fe«'l  the  lejtst  scruple.  j)lease  frankly  deeline  it, 
and  l>elieve  me,  dear  sir,  that  I  value  so  highly  my  first  reception,  when 
presented  to  you  by  my  good  friend  Captain  liasil  Hall,  and  your  sub- 
8e<iuent  civilities,  that'l  never  shall  cease  to  be,  with  the  highest  respect 
and  admiration, 

Your  most  obedient,  humble  servant, 

Jons      T        .\i    i»i    MOV 

Dear  Mr.  Auditbon  . 

I  am  sure  you  will  fin<i  many  persons  better  qualilied  tii;iii  niv.>-.ii  to 
give  you  a  passiK)rt  to  foreign  countries,  since  circumsUmces  have  pre- 
vented our  oltener  meeting,  and  my  ignorance  do«»s  not  jHTmit  me  to 
say  anything  on  the  branclies  of  natural  history  of  which  you  are  so  well 
pfwwssed.  But  I  cjiu  ejwily  and  truly  say,  that  what  1  liave  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing,  touching  your  talents  an<l  manners,  corresponds  with 
all  1  have  heard  in  your  favor  ;  an<l  that  I  am  a  sincere  Indiever  in  the 
extent  of  your  scientific  attainments,  though  I  have  not  the  knowledge 
nect*8sary  to  form  an  accurate  judgment  on  the  subject.  I  sincerely 
wish  your  travels  may  prove  agreeable,  and  remain 

Very  much  your  obedieut  servant, 

Walter  Scott. 


CHAPTER  XTI. 

NARRATION. 

A  Ui»  ahonld  be  judiciooa,  dear,  Baocinct ; 
The  Uognage  plain,  and  inddentH  welJ  linked ; 
Tell  not  aa  new  what  evei7body  knows, 
And,  new  or  old,  still  hasten  to  a  dose. 
There  centering  in  a  focoa,  ronnd  and  neat, 
Let  all  your  rays  of  information  meet.— Cowna. 

The  Subject  Defined. — As  used  in  tli is  chapter, 
the  word  Narration  will  ha  limited  t<»  the  i(  lati<»ii  erf  inci- 
dents for  tiie  sake  of  the  incidents  tlieiiiftclveri.  It  thus 
differs  from  what  wc  have  tallud  Sturj-Telling  (see  Chap- 
ter VI.,  page  81),  where  the  end  in  view  is  a  foi-c-ible 
climax,  and  the  incidents  are  selected  and  arranged  solely 
with  reference  to  that  climax.  In  like  manner  it  differs 
from  wliar  in  the  tlivision  of  an  oration  is  commonly 
called  the  Narration,  where  facts  are  stated  only  as  an 
element  of  the  persuasion  to  some  conviction  the  speaker 
desires  to  enforce.  In  Naiiation  as  here  treated  there  is 
no  ulterior  ohject.  The  writer  has  no  climax  to  reach,  no 
conviction  to  enforce,  no  moral  to  teach.  His  aim  is  to 
tell  the  story  as  it  is.  impartially,  accurately,  and  forcibly. 

Of  all  Composition  the  Easiest. — lie  that 
tells  a  story  well  is  sure  of  listeners.  When  a  man  pro- 
poses to  state  his  views  of  a  given  subject,  some  effort  of 
attention  is  required  :  indeed,  one  need  entertain  consider- 
able respect  for  the  man,  to  feel  that  his  views  are  enough 
better  than  one's  own  to  make  it  worth  while  to  listen. 


Chap.  XII.)       ADVANTAGES  OF  THE  NARRATOR.  209 

So  in  description :  one  either  has  been  there,  or  may  go 
there,  or  can  read  of  it  or  liear  of  it  at  any  time  and  in  a 
dozen  ways,  and  therefore  feels  no  immediate  necessity 
of  listening. 

Bnt  the  combination  of  circumstances  that  forms  a  per- 
sonal experience  is  unique.  This  man  can  tell  us  what  no 
other  man  can  tell  in  the  same  way.  It  is  now, — or  never. 

Besides,  there  is  constant  variety.  An  essay  is  logical.  There 
is  method  in  it.  One  sentence,  one  paragraph,  suggests  an- 
other. One  knows  in  a  general  way  what  will  come  next.  So  in 
description.  The  whole  is  named,  and  the  description  of  the 
parts,  however  ^'i\'id,  must  follow  a  certain  general  order. 

But  in  narration,  the  incidents  are  individual,  united  by  their 
having  liappened  in  succession  to  somebody,  but  otherwise  dis- 
tinct. If  a  man  begins  to  tell  me  about  Mount  Monadnock,  the 
very  name  calls  up  its  loneliness,  its  rocky  sides,  the  bare  region 
it  is  lifted  up  from,  the  toilsome  ascent,  the  glorious  sunset.  The 
description  may  be  ^^Nad,  but  in  a  general  way  I  have  anticipated 
it.  No  such  preWsion  occurs  when  a  man  full  of  excitement 
cornea  uj)  to  me  and  exclaims  :  "  O  you  should  have  been  with  me 

just  now !     I  was  crossing  the  bridge,  when  a  little  girl .'* 

Well,  what  ?  My  imagination  does  not  help  me.  I  must  listen, 
or  I  shall  not  know  whether  she  was  drowned,  or  rescued,  or  run 
over,  or  abducted,  or  what  happened. 

Narration  may  be  divided  into  three  kinds,  according 
to  the  source  of  the  interest  it  excites. 

Narration  of  Incident  depends  for  its  interest 
upon  the  raj)id  and  unexpected  succession  of  events  that 
it  narrates.  The  reader's  curiosity  is  kept  on  the  alert. 
He  is  greedy  for  the  marvellous,  and  enjoys  it  the  more 
keenly  as  it  approaches  without  quite  reaching  the  im- 
probable and  the  unnatural. 

In  fiction,  this  is  the  |xjculiar  field  of  the  Komanco,  nnd 
is  the  basis  of  Fairy  Tales,  and  of  the  Melodrama. 


210  NARRATION.  [Part  IIL 

In  history,  it  chronicles  in  Annals  only  the  unusual  oc- 
currences, and  weaves  into  legends  and  Myths  events 
that  the  imaginative  have  been  busy  with  for  generations. 

In  biography,  it  appears  in  Travels  and  Voyages,  the 
Adventures  of  noted  people,  and  in  such  autobiography  as 
is  based  on  a  Diary  of  mere  incidents. 

Events  that  surprise  by  being  nnexx^cted,  and  yet  are  natural, 
enliven  greatly  an  epic  poem ;  but  in  such  a  jwem,  if  it  pretend  to 
copy  human  manners  and  actions,  no  improbable  incident  ought 
to  be  atlmitted  :  that  is,  no  incident  contrary  to  the  order  and 
course  of  nature.  A  chain  of  imagined  incidents,  linked  together 
according  to  the  order  of  nature,  finds  easy  admittance  into  the 
mind  ;  and  a  lively  narrative  of  such  incidents  occasions  complete 
images,  or,  in  other  words,  ideal  presence  :  but  our  judgment  re- 
volts against  an  improbable  incident ;  and,  if  we  once  begin  to 
doubt  of  its  reality,  farewell  relish  and  concern — an  unliappy  ef- 
fect ;  for  it  will  require  more  than  an  ordinary  effort  to  restore 
the  waking  dream,  and  to  make  the  reader  conceive  even  the 
more  i)robable  incidents  as  i>assing  in  liis  presence. — Kames. 

The  Unnatural  atut  the  Iinprobabie.—Then'.  is  a  distinction  to  be  made  between  the 
unnatnral  and  the  merely  improbable.  A  fiction  is  unnatarsl  when  there  is  some  assign- 
able reason  against  the  events  taking  place  as  describeil,  when  men  are  represented  as 
acting  contrary  to  the  character  ai«igncd  them,  or  to  human  natnre  in  general ;  as  when 
a  young  lady  of  seventeen,  brought  up  in  ease,  luxury,  and  retirement,  with  no  com- 
panions but  the  narrow- mindcil  and  illiterate,  displays  (as  a  heroine  unually  docs),  under 
the  most  trying  circumstances,  such  wisdom,  fortitude,  and  knowletlge  of  the  world,  as 
the  best  instructors  and  the  best  examples  can  rarely  produce  without  the  aid  of  more 
mature  age  and  longer  experience.  On  the  other  hand  a  fiction  is  still  improbable, 
though  not  unnatural,  when  there  is  no  reason  to  be  assigned  why  things  should  not  take 
place  as  represented,  except  that  the  overbalance  of  chances  is  against  it.  The  hero 
meets,  in  his  utmost  distress,  most  opportunely  with  the  very  person  to  whom  he  had 
formerly  done  a  signal  service,  and  who  happens  to  communicate  to  hini  a  piece  of  intel- 
ligence which  sets  all  to  rights.  Why  should  he  not  meet  hira  as  well  as  any  one  else? 
All  that  can  be  said  is  that  there  is  no  reason  why  he  phonld.  The  infant  wJm  is  saved 
froui  a  wreck,  and  who  afterward  becomes  such  a  constellation  of  virtues  and  accomplish- 
ments, turns  out  to  be  no  other  than  the  nephew  of  the  very  gentleman  on  whose  estat« 
the  waves  had  cast  him,  and  whose  lovely  daughter  he  h.-xd  so  long  sighed  for  in  vain. 
There  is  no  reason  to  be  given,  except  from  the  c  ilculation  of  chances,  why  he  sliould 
not  have  been  thrown  on  one  part  of  the  coast  as  well  as  another.  Nay,  it  would  l>e 
nothing  nnnatural,  though  the  most  determined  novel-reader  would  be  shocked  at  its  im- 
probability, if  all  the  hero's  enemies,  while  they  were  conspiring  his  ruin,  were  tn  be 
etrock  dead  together  by  a  hicky  flaah  of  lightning ;  yet  many  denouements  which  are  de- 


CHAP.  XII.]        THREE  KINDS  OF  NARRATION.  211 

ddedlr  unnatural  are  bettor  tolerated  than  this  would  bo.  We  shall,  perhape,  b«t  explain 
oar  meaning  by  example*,  taken  from  a  novel  of  great  merit  in  many  respects.  When 
Lord  Glenthorn,  in  whom  a  meet  unfavorable  education  has  acted  on  a  most  unfavorable 
dtaftodtion.  after  a  life  of  torpor,  broken  only  by  short  sallies  of  forced  exertion,  on  a  sadden 
reverse  of  fortune,  displays  at  once  the  most  persevering  diligence  in  the  most  repulsive  stud- 
ies ;  and  in  middle  life,  without  any  previous  habitM  of  exertion,  any  hope  of  early  biud- 
nflMUOr  tlie  example  of  friends,  or  the  stimulus  of  actual  want  to  urge  him,  outstrips  every 
competitor,  though  every  oompeUtor  has  every  advantage  against  him  ;  this  is  unnaturtil. 
When  Lonl  Glenthorn,  the  instant  he  is  stripped  of  his  estates,  meets,  fails  in  lave  with, 
and  is oonditionally  accepted  by  the  very  lady  who  is  remotely  entitled  to  those  estates; 
when  the  insUnt  he  has  fulflUed  the  conditions  of  their  marriage,  the  family  of  the  per- 
son posocancul  of  the  estates  becomes  extinct,  and  by  the  concurrence  of  circumstances, 
•gainst  erery  one  of  which  the  chances  were  enormous,  the  hero  is  reinstated  in  all  his 
old  domains ;  this  is  merely  improbable. 

The  distinction  which  we  have  been  pointing  out  may  be  plainly  perceived  in  the 
events  of  real  life  ;  when  anything  takes  place  of  such  a  nature  as  wc  should  call,  in  a 
fiction,  merely  improbable,  because  there  are  many  chances  against  it,  wc  call  it  a  lucky 
or  unlucky  accident,  a  singular  coincidence,  something  very  cxtraordinnry,  odd,  cnrious, 
etc.,  whereas  anything  which,  in  a  Action,  would  be  called  unnatural,  when  it  actually  oc- 
ean (and  such  things  do  occur),  is  still  called  unnntural,  inexplicable,  unaccountable,  in- 
ooaoeivable,  etc.,  epithets  which  are  not  applied  to  e\cntA  that  have  merely  the  balance 
of  chances  against  them.— Qunrtarlv  BevUw. 

Narration  of  Character  deals  less  with  incidents 
themselves  than  with  incidents  as  they  manifest  and 
develop  the  clmracters  of  the  persons  in  the  story.  The 
leader's  critical  fiiciilties  are  called  npon.  Did  the  hero 
take  the  right  conrse  throngh  the  complicated  circnm- 
stances  that  surrounded  him  ?  Was  the  lieroine  a  true 
woman  ?  Have  I  met  such  people  ?  Would  I  like  to  ? 
These  are  the  questions  suggested,  and  the  reader's  inter- 
est depends  upon  the  naturalness  of  the  incidents,  and  of 
their  effect  u|>on  the  characters  of  the  story. 

In  fiction  this  is  the  peculiar  field  of  the  Novel,  and  is 
the  basis  of  Fables,  Parables,  Allegories,  and  tlie  usual 
Illustrations  in  argument. 

In  history  it  deals  not  more  with  battles  and  pestilences 
than  with  industries  and  social  liabits ;  not  more  with 
crises  than  with  the  silent  influences  ceaselessly  at  work 
in  moulding  and  transforming  a  j)eople. 

In  biography  it  appears  in  Memoirs,  Journals,  Letters, 


212  NARRATION.  [Pabt  III. 

all  that  reveals  the  inner  man  as  well  as  his  public  rela- 
tions. 

Narration  of  Impressions  depends  for  its  interest 
on  the  light  the  story  throws,  not  upon  the  incidents  nar- 
rated, but  upon  the  person  narrating  them.  In  all  narra- 
tion this  element  is  more  or  less  present,  but  in  some  kinds, 
particularly  in  that  which  is  consciously  or  unconsciously 
humorous,  this  element  is  predominant.  (See  page  108, 
last  sentence.) 

WHAT  TO  TELL. 

Accuracy  is  the  prime  requisite  in  narration.  Whether 
our  interest  be  upon  incident,  or  character,  or  impression, 
the  story  must  be  real,  and  it  is  real  only  in  proportion  as 
it  is  accurate  in  detail.     This  requires  : 

a.  Close  Observation. — It  is  the  little  things,  the 
"  side  touches,"  that  give  a  story  its  reality.  Tell  me  that 
you  saw  a  horse  run  away  and  my  attention  is  hardly  ar- 
rested. But  describe  the  cool  evening,  the  mother  and 
daughter  leisurely  returning  from  a  pleasant  visit,  the 
spirited  but  gentle  horse  trotting  quietly  down  the  hill, 
the  approaching  bicycle,  the  sudden  leap  of  the  horse,  the 
frightened  pulling  upon  one  rein  by  the  mother,  the  over- 
turn, the  breaking  of  the  wagon  and  the  frantic  plunging 
of  the  horse  till  he  frees  himself  and  disappears,  the  ap- 
proach of  the  bicycler  to  the  confused  heap  of  wagon  and 
women,  the  groans  and  reproaches  that  greet  him,  the  as- 
sistance he  renders,  and  so  on,  and  you  make  me  see  the 
occurrence  as  you  saw  it,  and  feel  the  same  interest  in  it 
that  3'ou  felt. 

The  force  of  language  consists  in  raising  complete  images ; 
which  have  the  effect  to  transport  the  reader  as  by  magic  into  the 
very  place  of  the  important  action,  and  convert  him,  as  it  were, 


CiiAr.  XII. J  WHAT  ACCURACY   REQUIRES.  213 

into  a  spectator,  beholding  everything  that  jmsses.  The  narmtive 
in  an  epic  poem  ought  to  rival  a  picture  in  the  liveliness  and  ac- 
curacy of  its  representations ;  no  circumstance  must  be  omitted 
that  tends  to  make  a  complete  image ;  because  an  imj^erfect  image, 
as  well  as  any  other  imperfect  conception,  is  cold  and  uninterest- 
ing.— Kames. 

A  lively  and  aocnimte  description  of  an  important  event,  raises  In  me  ideas  no  loss 
dirtinct  than  if  I  had  been  originally  an  eye-witness  ;  I  am  insensibly  transformed  into  a 
spectator,  iind  have  an  impression  that  every  incident  is  passing  in  my  presence.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  slight  or  superficial  narrative  produces  but  a  faint  and  incomplete  idea, 
of  which  ideal  presence  makes  no  part.  Past  time  is  a  circumstance  that  enters  into  this 
idea,  as  it  does  into  an  incomplete  idea  of  memory  ;  I  believe  that  Scipio  existed  about 
two  thousand  years  ago,  and  that  he  overcame  Hannibal  in  the  famous  battle  of  Znma. 
When  I  rc(te<Jt  so  blightiy  upon  that  memorable  event,  I  consider  it  as  long  past.  But  let 
it  be  spread  oat  in  a  lively  and  beautiful  description,  I  am  insensibly  transformed  into  a 
qwotator :  I  perceive  these  two  heroes  in  act  to  engage  :  I  perceive  them  brandishing 
their  swords,  and  cheering  their  troops ;  and  in  that  manner  I  attend  them  through  the 
battle,  every  incident  of  which  appwirs  to  be  passing  in  my  sight 

I  have  had  occasion  to  observe  that  ideas,  both  of  memory  and  of  speech,  produce 
•motions  of  the  same  kind  with  what  are  produced  by  an  immediate  view  of  the  object : 
<mly  fainter,  in  proportion  as  an  idea  is  fainter  than  an  original  perception.  The  insight 
we  now  have  unfolds  that  mystery  :  ideal  presence  supplies  the  want  of  real  presence ; 
and  in  idea  we  perceive  persons  acting  and  suffering,  precisely  as  in  an  original  snrvey  : 
if  oar  sympathy  be  engaged  by  the  latter,  it  must  also,  in  some  degree,  be  engaged  by  the 
fonner,  especially  if  the  distinctness  of  ideal  presence  approach  to  that  of  real  presence. 
Hence  the  pleasure  of  a  reverie,  where  a  man,  forgetting  himself,  is  totally  occupied  with 
the  Ideaa  passing  in  his  mind,  the  objects  of  which  he  conceives  to  be  really  existing  in 
bis  preaenoe.  The  power  of  language  to  raise  emotions  depends  entirely  on  the  raising 
of  sach  lively  and  distinct  images  as  are  here  described  :  the  reader's  passions  are  never 
sensibly  moved  tUl  he  is  thrown  into  a  kind  of  reverie  ;  in  which  state,  forgeUing  that  he 
is  reading,  he  oonoeiTas  every  incident  as  passing  in  his  presence,  precisely  as  if  he  were 
an  eye-witneaa.  A  general  or  refiective  remembrance  cannot  warm  us  into  any  emotion : 
it  may  be  agreeable  In  some  slight  degree ;  but  its  ideas  are  too  faint  and  obeoure  to 
raiae  anything  like  an  emotion  ;  and  were  they  ever  so  lively,  they  pass  with  too  much 
precipitation  to  have  that  effect:  our  emotions  are  never  instantaneous;  even  such  as 
oome  the  soonest  to  their  height  have  different  periods  of  birth  and  increment;  and  to 
give  o|>portonity  for  these  different  periods  it  is  necessary  that  the  cause  of  every  emo- 
tion be  present  to  the  mind  a  due  time ;  for  an  emotion  is  not  carried  to  its  height  by  rc- 
ttefmted  imprsarioos  only.  We  know  that  to  be  the  caae  of  emotions  arising  from  objects 
of  sight ;  »  qolidt  soccession,  even  of  th«  most  beaatifol  objects,  scarcely  making  any  im- 
prewion ;  and  if  this  hold  in  the  succesaioo  of  original  perceptions,  how  mach  more  in 
the  sacoeesion  of  Ideas.— Kames. 

b.  A  Memory  for  Details. — This  is  largely  a  mat- 
ter of  cultivation.  Tlie  story  is  familiar  liow  Ilondin^s 
father  taught  liim  to  walk  by  a  shop  window,  and  report, 
from  a  single  glance,  first,  two  or  tliree  things  that  he  saw. 


214  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

presently,  a  dozen,  and  eventually  scores.  It  should  be  a 
principle  with  young  people  so  closely  to  observe  and  so 
accurately  to  remember  whatever  they  see  of  interest,  that 
they  can  reproduce  all  that  is  characteristic  in  the  scene 
and  the  occurrence. 

c.  Selection  of  what  is  Typical. — This  recog- 
nizing what  is  characteristic  of  the  particular  occasion  is 
merely  a  further  and  more  careful  observation.  A  girl 
seems  to  me  ill-dressed  ;  and  I  observe  that  she  wears 
a  broad-brimmed  white  straw  hat,  trimmed  with  blue  rib- 
bon ;  a  white  nmslin  gown,  with  short  sleeves,  and  belted 
with  blue;  long  buif  mits,  low-heeled  shoes,  white  lace 
about  the  neck,  etc.  Now,  if  I  am  to  describe  her  as  an 
ill-dressed  girl,  I  want  to  know  in  which  of  all  these  par- 
ticulars she  is  ill-dressed  ;  so,  instead  of  simply  enumerat- 
ing details,  I  observe  further,  to  see  which  of  them  it  is 
that  produces  the  unpleasant  impression.  I  find  that  it  is 
the  lace  she  wears.  Her  neck  is  short,  and  the  lace  makes 
her  look  choked,  as  if  she  were  wearing  it  as  a  protection 
against  sore-throat.  So  far  as  I  desire  to  reproduce  the 
impression  she  makes  upon  me,  I  must  then  direct  my  at- 
tention to  her  neck  and  her  lace,  remembering  just  how  it 
looks,  and  comparing  her  neck  with  others  to  fix  in  my 
own  mind  why  it  is  that  what  would  look  well  upon  an- 
other girl  is  so  unbecoming  to  her. 

To  select  from  the  sentiment,  scene,  or  event  described,  those 
typical  elements  which  carry  many  others  along  with  them ;  and 
so,  by  saying  a  few  things  but  suggesting  many,  to  abridge  the 
description,  is  the  secret  of  producing  a  %'ivid  impression.  An  ex- 
tract from  Tennyson's  "  Mariana  "  will  well  illustrate  this  : 

All  day  within  the  dreamy  house. 
The  door  upon  the  hinges  creaked. 
The  blue  fly  sung  i'  the  pane ;  the  mouse 
Behind  the  mouldering  wainscot  shrieked. 
Or  from  the  crevice  peered  about. 


Chap.  XIL]  WHAT  ACCURACY  REQUIRES.  215 

The  several  circumstances  here  specified  bring  with  them  many 
Appropriate  associations.  Our  attention  is  rarely  drawn  by  the 
buzzing  of  a  fly  in  the  window,  save  when  everything  is  stilL 
While  the  inmates  are  moving  about  the  house,  mice  usually  keep 
silence ;  and  it  is  only  when  extreme  quietness  reigns  that  they 
peep  from  their  retreats.  Hence  each  of  the  facts  mentioned  pre- 
supposes numerous  others,  calls  up  these  with  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctness, and  revives  the  feeling  of  dull  solitude  with  which  they 
are  connected  in  our  experience.  Were  all  these  facts  detailed  in- 
stead of  suggested,  the  attention  would  be  so  frittered  away  that 
little  impression  of  dreariness  would  be  produced.  Similarly  in 
other  cases.  Wliatever  the  nature  of  the  thought  to  be  conveyed, 
this  skilful  selection  of  a  few  particulars  which  imply  the  rest,  is 
the  key  to  success.  In  the  choice  of  competent  ideas,  as  in  the 
choice  of  expressions,  the  aim  must  be  to  convey  the  greatest  quan- 
tity of  thoughts  with  the  smallest  quantity  of  words.— Herbekt 


d.  Rejection  of  what    is    Low  or   Trivial. — 

This  is  the  newspaper  age,  and  the  most  characteristic 
feature  of  the  modern  newspaper  is  the  interview.  Our 
curiosity  as  to  the  private  life  of  noted  people  is  stimu- 
lated by  information  as  to  how  much  the  President  pays 
for  his  coats,  where  Jay  Gould  gets  his  liair  cut,  and 
whether  Nilsson  is  fond  of  clams.  Where  shall  we  draw 
the  line  as  to  the  private  lives  of  prominent  people,  be- 
tween legitimate  interest  and  the  curiosity  of  a  Paul  Pry? 
Historical  Value  of  Revealment.— The  very 
fact  that  the  things  told  are  of  a  kind  commonly  con- 
cealed gives  to  minute  personal  gossip  a  certain  factitious 
interest ;  but  there  is  also  a  real  value  as  well  as  genuine 
entertainment  in  the  picture  thus  drawn  of  a  man  as  a 
type  of  his  class,  or  of  his  age,  or  of  mankind.  Few  books 
arc  more  certain  of  immortality  than  Pepys's  Diary,  con- 
temptible as  it  makes  Pepys  himself  appear;  and  Bos- 
well's  "  Life  of  Johnson  "  will  always  be  a  classic,  tliough 


216  NARRATION.  [Part  TIL 

it  insures  to  Boswell  a  curl  of  the  lip  at  every  mention  of 
his  name. 

Macaulay's  Description  of  Boswell. 

The  *•  Life  of  Johnson  "  is  assuredly  a  great,  a  very  great  work. 
Homer  is  not  more  decidedly  the  first  of  heroic  poets,  Shakspere 
is  not  more  decidedly  the  first  of  dramatists,  Demosthenes  is  not 
more  decidedly  the  first  of  orators,  than  Boswell  is  the  first  of  bi- 
ographers. He  has  no  second.  He  has  distanced  all  competitors 
so  decidedly  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  place  them.  Eclipse 
is  first,  and  the  rest  nowhere. 

We  are  not  sure  that  there  is  in  the  whole  history  of  the  human 
intellect  so  strange  a  phenomenon  as  this  book.  Many  of  the 
greatest  men  that  ever  lived  have  written  biography.  Boswell  was 
one  of  the  smallest  men  that  ever  lived,  and  he  has  beaten  them  all. 
He  ^-as,  if  we  are  to  give  any  credit  to  his  own  account,  or  to  the 
imited  testimony  of  all  who  knew  him,  a  man  of  the  meanest  and  fee- 
blest intellect.  Johnson  described  him  as  a  fellow  who  had  missed 
his  only  chance  of  immortality  by  not  having  been  alive  when  the 
Dunciad  was  written.  Beauclerck  used  his  name  as  a  proverbial 
expression  for  a  bore.  He  was  the  laughing-stock  of  the  whole  of 
that  brilliant  society  which  has  owed  to  him  the  greater  part  of 
its  fame.  He  was  always  laying  himself  at  the  feet  of  some  emi- 
nent man,  and  begging  to  be  spit  upon  and  trampled  upon.  He 
was  always  earning  some  ridiculous  nickname,  and  then  "binding 
it  as  a  crown  unto  him,"  not  merely  in  metaphor,  but  literally. 
He  exhibited  himself,  at  the  Shakspere  jubilee,  to  all  the  crowd 
which  filled  Stratford-on-Avon,  with  a  placard  round  his  hat  bear- 
ing the  inscription  of  Corsica  Boswell.  In  his  torn-  he  proclaimed 
to  all  the  world  that  at  Edinburgh  he  was  known  by  the  appella- 
tion of  Paoli  Boswell.  Servile  and  imj)ertinent,  shallow  and  pe- 
dantic, a  bigot  and  a  sot,  bloated  with  family  pride,  and  eternally 
blustering  about  the  dignity  of  a  bom  gentleman,  yet  stooping  to 
be  a  tale-bearer,  an  eavesdropper,  a  common  butt  in  the  taverns  of 
London,  so  curious  to  know  everybody  who  was  talked  about,  that, 
Tory  and  High-churchman  as  he  was,  he  manoeu^Ted,  we  have  been 
told,  for  an  introduction  to  Tom  Paine,  so  vain  of  the  most  child- 
ish distinctions,  that  when  he  had  been  to  court  he  drove  to  the 


Chap.  XIL]       HOW  MACAULAY  DESCRIBES  BOSWELL.         217 

office  where  hia  book  was  printing  without  changing  his  clothes, 
and  snmmoned  all  the  printer's  devils  to  admire  his  new  ruffles  and 
sword  ;  such  was  this  man,  and  such  was  he  contented  and  proud 
to  be.  Everything  which  another  man  would  have  hidden,  every- 
thing the  publication  of  which  would  have  made  another  man 
hang  himself,  was  matter  of  gay  and  clamorous  exultation  to  his 
weak  and  diseased  mind.  What  silly  things  he  said,  what  bitter 
retorts  he  provoked,  how  at  one  place  ho  was  troubled  with  evil 
presentiments  which  came  to  nothing,  how  at  another  place,  on 
waking  from  a  drunken  doze,  he  read  the  Prayer-book  and  took 
a  hair  of  the  dog  that  had  bitten  him,  how  he  went  to  see  men 
hanged  and  came  away  maudlin,  how  ho  added  five  hundred 
pounds  to  the  fortune  of  one  of  his  babies  because  she  was  not 
scared  at  Johnson's  ugly  face,  how  he  was  frightened  out  of  his 
wits  at  sea,  and  how  the  sailors  quieted  him  as  they  would  have 
quieted  a  child,  how  tipsy  he  was  at  Lady  Cork's  one  evening  and 
how  much  liis  merriment  annoyed  the  ladies,  how  impertinent  he 
was  to  the  Duchess  of  Argyle,  and  with  what  stately  contempt  she 
put  down  his  impertinence,  how  Colonel  Macleod  sneered  to  his 
face  at  his  impudent  obtrusiveness,  how  his  father  and  the  very 
wife  of  his  bosom  laughed  and  fretted  at  his  fooleries  ;  all  these 
things  he  proclaimed  to  all  the  world,  as  if  they  had  been  subjects 
for  pride  and  ostentatious  rejoicing.  All  the  caprices  of  his  tem- 
per, all  the  illusions  of  his  vanity,  all  his  lni>ochondriac  whim- 
sies, all  his  castles  in  the  air,  ho  displayed  with  a  cool  self-com- 
placency, a  perfect  unconsciousness  that  he  was  making  a  fool  of 
himself,  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  find  a  parallel  in  the  whole 
history  of  mankind.  He  has  used  many  people  ill ;  but  assuredly 
he  has  used  nobody  so  ill  as  himself. 

That  such  a  man  should  have  written  one  of  the  best  books  in 
the  world  is  strange  enongh.  But  this  is  not  all.  Many  persons 
who  have  conducted  themselves  foolishly  in  active  life,  and  whose 
conversation  has  indicated  no  superior  powers  of  mind,  have  left 
us  valuable  works.  Goldsmith  was  very  justly  describe<l  by  one 
of  his  contemporaries  as  an  inspired  idiot,  and  by  another  an  a  being 

Who  wrote  IDw  an  Mtgel  and  talked  like  poor  roll. 

La  Fontaine  was  in  society  a  mere  simpleton.  His  blunders  would 
not  come  amiss  among  the  stories  of  Hiorocles.    Bat  these  men 


218  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

attained  literary  eminence  in  spite  of  their  weaknesses.  Boswell 
attained  it  by  reason  of  his  weaknesses.  If  he  had  not  been  a 
great  fool,  he  would  never  have  been  a  great  writer.  Without  all  the 
qualities  which  made  him  the  jest  and  the  torment  of  those  among 
whom  he  lived,  without  the  officiousness,  the  inquisitiveness,  the 
effrontery,  the  toad-eating,  the  insensibility  to  all  reproof,  he 
never  could  have  produced  so  excellent  a  book.  He  was  a  slave, 
l>roud  of  his  servitude,  a  Paul  Pry,  convinced  that  his  own  curi- 
ooity  and  garrulity  were  virtues,  an  unsafe  comijanion  who  never 
scrupled  to  repay  the  most  liberal  hospitality  by  the  basest  viola- 
tion of  confidence,  a  man  without  delicacy,  without  shame,  with- 
out sense  enough  to  know  when  he  was  hurting  the  feelings  of 
others,  or  when  he  was  exposing  himself  to  derision  ;  and  l>ecause 
of  all  this  he  has,  in  an  important  dcimrtmont  of  literature,  im- 
measurably surpassed  such  writers  as  Tacitus,  Clarendon,  Al  fieri, 
and  his  own  Johnson. 

Of  the  talents  which  ordinarily  raise  men  to  eminence  as  writ- 
ers, Boswell  had  absolutely  none.  There  is  not  in  all  his  books 
a  single  remark  of  his  ovm  on  literature,  politics,  religion,  or  so- 
cioty,  which  is  not  either  commonplace  or  absurd.  His  disserta- 
tions on  hereditaiy  gentility,  on  the  slave-trade,  and  on  the  entail- 
ing of  landed  estates,  may  sen-e  as  examples.  To  say  that  these 
passages  are  sophistical  would  be  to  jmy  them  an  extravagant  com- 
pliment. They  have  no  pi-etence  to  argument,  or  even  to  meaning. 
He  has  rejwrted  innumerable  observations  made  by  himself  in 
the  course  of  conversation.  Of  these  observations  we  do  not  re- 
member one  which  is  above  the  intellectual  capacity  of  a  boy  of 
fifteen.  He  has  j^rinted  many  of  his  owti  letters,  and  in  these  let- 
tei-s  he  is  always  ranting  or  twaddling.  Logic,  eloquence,  wit, 
taste,  all  those  things  which  are  generally  considered  as  making 
a  book  valuable,  were  utterly  wanting  to  him.  He  had,  indeed,  a 
quick  observation  and  a  retentive  memory.  These  qualities,  if  he 
had  been  a  man  of  sense  and  ^-il•tue,  would  scarcely  of  themselves 
have  sufficed  to  make  him  conspicuous ;  but,  because  he  was  a 
dunce,  a  parasite,  and  a  coxcomb,  they  have  made  him  immortal. 

Those  parts  of  his  book  which,  considered  abstractly,  are  most 
utterly  worthless,  are  delightful  when  we  read  them  as  illustrations 
of  the  character  of  the  writer.     Bad  in  themselves,  they  are  good 


Chap.  XII.)      HOW  MACATTLAY  DESCRIBES  BOSWELL.         219 

dramatically,  like  the  nonsense  of  Justice  Shallow,  the  clipped 
English  of  Dr.  Caius,  or  the  misplaced  consonants  of  Fluellen. 
Of  all  confessors,  Boswell  is  the  most  candid.  Other  men  have 
pretended  to  lay  open  their  own  hearts  :  Rousseau,  for  example, 
and  Lord  Byron  have  evidently  written  with  a  constant  view  to 
effect,  and  are  to  be  then  most  distrusted  when  they  seem  to 
be  most  sincere.  There  is  scarcely  any  man  who  would  not  rather 
accuse  himself  of  great  crimes  and  of  dark  and  temi>estnous  pas- 
sions than  proclaim  Ids  little  vanities  and  wild  fancies.  It  would 
be  easier  to  find  a  jjerson  who  would  avow  actions  like  those  of 
Cedsar  Borgia,  or  Danton,  than  one  who  would  jmblish  a  day-dream 
like  those  of  Alnaschar  and  Malvolio.  Tliose  weaknesses  wliich 
most  men  keep  covered  up  in  the  most  secret  places  of  the  mind, 
not  to  be  disclosed  to  the  eye  of  friendship  or  of  love,  were  precisely 
the  weaknesses  which  Boswell  paraded  before  the  world.  He  was 
perfectly  frank,  because  the  weakness  of  his  understanding  and 
the  tumult  of  his  si>irits  prevented  him  from  knowing  when  ho 
had  made  himself  ridiculous.  His  book  resembles  nothing  so 
much  as  the  conversation  of  the  inmates  of  the  Palace  of  Tnith. 

His  fame  is  great ;  and  it  will,  wo  have  no  doubt,  be  lasting ; 
but  it  is  fame  of  a  i^eculiar  kind,  and  indeed  mar\'ellously  resem- 
bles infamy.  We  remember  no  other  case  in  which  the  world  has 
made  so  great  a  distinction  between  a  book  and  its  author.  In 
general,  the  book  and  its  author  are  considered  as  one.  To  ad- 
mire the  book  is  to  a^lmire  the  author.  The  case  of  Boswell  is  aq 
exception,  we  think  the  only  exception,  to  this  rule.  His  work  is 
universally  allowed  to  be  interesting,  instnictive,  eminently  orig- 
inal ;  yet  it  has  brought  him  nothing  but  contempt.  All  the  world 
reads  it ;  all  the  world  delights  in  it ;  yet  we  do  not  remembet 
ever  to  have  read  or  ever  to  have  heard  any  expression  of  res{)ect 
or  ailmiration  for  the  man  to  whom  we  owe  so  much  instruction 
and  amusement.  While  edition  after  edition  of  liis  book  was 
coming  foi-th,  his  son,  as  Mr.  Crokcr  tells  us,  was  ashameil  of  it, 
and  hated  to  hear  it  mentioned.  The  feeling  was  natural  and 
reasonable.  Sir  Alexander  saw  that,  in  pro|x)rtion  to  the  celebrity 
of  the  work,  was  the  degradation  of  the  author.  The  very  editors 
of  this  unfortunate  gentleman's  books  have  forgotten  their  alle- 
giance, and,  like  those  Paritan  casuista  who  took  arms  by  the  au- 


220  NARRATION.  fpART  HI. 

thority  of  the  king  against  his  person,  have  attacked  the  writer 
while  doing  homage  to  the  writings.  Mr.  Croker,  for  example, 
has  published  two  thousand  five  hundred  notes  on  the  "  Life  of 
Johnson,"  and  yet  scarcely  ever  mentions  the  biographer  whose 
performance  he  has  taken  such  pains  to  illustrate  without  some 
expression  of  contempt. 

Details  of  Value,  only  when  Character- 
istic.— In  an  essay  on  this  subject,  Coleridge  has  defined 
the  lx)undary  in  narrating  the  lives  of  great  men  between 
liberty  and  license.     He  says ; 

"Yet  Lord  Bacon,  by  the  expressions  'public  faces*  and  *  pro- 
pounding to  themselves  a  person '  evidently  confines  the  biographer 
to  such  facts  as  are  either  susceptible  of  some  general  inference, 
or  tend  to  illustrate  those  qualities  which  distinguish  the  subject 
of  them  from  ordinary  men ;  while  the  passage  in  general  was 
meant  to  guard  the  historian  against  considering,  as  trifles,  all  that 
might  appear  so  to  those  who  recognize  no  greatness  in  the  mind, 
and  can  conceive  no  dignity  in  any  incident  which  does  not  act  on 
their  senses  by  its  external  accompaniments,  or  on  their  curiosity 
by  its  immediate  consequences.  Things  apparently  insignificant 
are  recommended  to  our  notice,  not  for  their  own  sakes,  but  for 
their  bearings  or  influences  on  things  of  importance  ;  in  other 
words,  when  they  are  insignificant  in  aj^pearance  only. 

"  An  inquisitiveness  into  the  minutest  circumstances  and  casual 
sayings  of  eminent  contemporaries  is  indeed  quite  natural ;  but  so 
are  all  our  follies,  and  the  more  natural  they  are,  the  more  caution 
should  we  exert  in  guarding  against  them.  To  scribble  trifles  even 
on  the  perishable  glass  of  an  inn-window,  is  the  mark  of  an  idler ; 
but  to  engrave  them  on  the  marble  monument,  sacred  to  the  mem- 
ory of  the  departed  great,  is  something  worse  than  idleness.  The 
spirit  of  genuine  biogi-apliy  is  in  nothing  more  conspicuous  than 
in  the  fiimness  with  which  it  withstands  the  cravings  of  worthless 
curiosity,  as  distinguished  from  the  thirst  after  useful  knowledge. 
For,  in  the  first  place,  such  anecdotes  as  derive  their  whole  and 
sole  interest  from  the  great  name  of  the  person  by  whom  they  are 
related,  and  neither  illustrate  his  general  character  nor  his  particu- 
lar actions,  would  scarcely  have  been  noticed  or  remembered  except 


Chap.  XIL]  A  SUITABLE  TONR  221 

by  men  of  weak  minds :  it  is  not  unlikely,  therefore,  that  they 
were  misapprehended  at  the  time,  and  it  is  most  probable  that 
they  have  been  related  as  incorrectly  as  they  were  noticed  inju- 
diciously  In  the  second  place,  these  trifles  are  sub- 
versive of  the  great  end  of  biography,  which  is  to  fix  the  attention, 
and  to  interest  the  feelings,  of  men  on  those  qualities  and  actions 
which  have  made  a  particular  life  worthy  to  be  recorded.  It  is, 
no  doubt,  the  duty  of  an  honest  biographer  to  portray  the  prom- 
inent imperfections  as  well  as  excellences  of  his  hero ;  but  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  conceive  how  this  can  be  deemed  an  excuse  for  heaping 
together  a  multitude  of  particulars,  which  can  prove  nothing  of 
any  man  that  might  not  have  been  safely  taken  for  granted  of  all 
men." — The  Friend. 

Nobody  should  suffer  his  hero  to  have  a  black  eye,  or  to  be 
pulled  by  the  nose.  The  Iliad  would  never  have  come  down  to 
these  times  if  Agamemnon  had  given  Achilles  a  box  on  the  ear. 
"We  should  have  trembled  for  the  .Slneid  if  any  Tyrian  nobleman 
had  kicked  the  pious  .tineas  in  the  fourth  rib.  ^neas  may  have 
deserved  it ;  but  he  could  not  have  founded  the  Boman  Empire 
after  so  distressing  an  accident. — Sydney  Smith. 


HOW  TO  TELL. 

A  Suitable  Tone. — Nothing  is  more  important  in 
narration  than  that  the  manner  and  the  tone  be  adapted 
to  the  subject; — and  not  only  to  the  subject  absohitely, 
but  to  the  subject  in  its  relations  to  the  speaker  and  to  the 
hearers  (see  page  83).  No  art,  no  wit,  can  atone  for  in- 
sensibility to  the  proprieties  of  the  occasion. 

Let  us  illustrate  this  point  by  some  references  to  death— a  sub- 
ject usually  held  sacretl.  "Naught  save  good  of  the  dead"  is  a 
maxim  founded  on  a  universal  instinct  The  man  is  not  to  be  en- 
vied that  can  pass  a  house  where  the  funeral-services  even  of  a 
stranger  are  in  progress,  without  the  impulse  to  lift  his  hat  in 
silent  sympathy. 

Often  quoted  as  a  type  of  all  that  is  true  and  touching  in  such 


222  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

references  is  the  following  tribnte  to  his  wife  by  the  author  of 
'*  Day-Dreams  of  a  School-master  :" 

Once  upon  a  time,  reader,  a  lung,  long  while  ago,  I  knew  a  school-nuuiter,  and  that 
Bchool-master  bad  a  wife ;  and  xhe  wilb  young,  and  fair,  and  learned  ;  like  thnt  prinoesH- 
pnpll  of  old  Aachaio.  fair  and  learned  aa  Sidney  s  tdAer,  Pembroke^n  mother.  And  her 
vnloe  WM  ever  toft,  gentle,  and  low,  reader— an  excellent  thing  in  woman.  And  her  fin- 
gera  vrere  quick  at  nt^Hilf-wurk,  and  nimble  in  all  a  houiiewife'ii  cunning.  And  Hhe 
could  draw  aweet  muMic  iruiu  the  ivory  board;  sweeter,  stranger  nuisic  from  the  chill  life 
of  her  Rchool-maater-hUHband.  And  she  was  slow  of  heart  to  undertrtand  niiachief ;  but 
her  feet  ran  swift  to  do  goud.  And  she  wa.1  simple  with  the  Bimplicity  of  girlhood,  and 
wiae  with  the  wisdom  that  coinoth  only  of  the  Lord-cometh  only  to  the  children  of  the 
Kingdom.  And  her  sweet  young  life  wan  a  morning  hymn,  sung  by  a  child-voic-e  to  rich 
organ-muKic.  Time  shall  throw  hi«  dart  at  death,  ere  death  hath  nlain  xuch  another. 
For  she  died,  reader,  a  long,  long  while  ago.  And  I  stood  once  by  her  grave— her  green 
grave — not  far  from  dear  Dunedin.  Died,  reader,  for  all  she  was  so  fair,  and  learnetl,  and 
simple,  and  good.     And,  I  am  told,  it  made  a  great  differenoe  to  that  8choul-ma8ter. 

Contrast  with  this  the  following  c&nsecuHve  jiaragraphs)  from  an 
Elmira  new8|)aper : 

Eagan,  the  man  killed  at  Chemung  on  Friday  night,  lived  near  the  depot,  and  leaves 
a  wife  and  family.  He  was  walking  on  the  track  at  the  time,  and  waH  struck  by  No.  12 
going  East  He  was  a  m>ber  man.  The  accident  occurred  about  nine  o'clock.  He  was 
instantly  killed — all  cut  to  pieces — the  head  torn  off  and  the  body  mangled. 

Mr.  Harry  Murphy's  home,  which  was  made  the  brighter  by  the  unfolding  a  little  time 
ago  of  a  dainty,  tiny  rosebud,  sweet  and  precious,  is  now  in  shadow,  for  t  le  tender  little 
flower  has  withered.  A  few  weeks  only  it  lasted,  yet  sufficient  to  have  its  tendrils  cling 
aroimd  hearts  that  are  very  lonely  now.  The  parents  have  the  sympathy  of  many 
friends. 

Here  is  an  attempt,  evidently  well-meaning,  but  very  unhappy, 
to  apply  technical  terms : 

Albert  Seymour  "Wright,  the  associate  etlitor  of  the  Ithaca  Journal,  has  handed  in 
bis  last  copy  and  read  his  last  proof.  A  sudden  and  fatal  illness  emancipated  him  at  the 
early  age  of  24  from  the  perplexities  of  ill^ble  manuscript,  the  criticisms  of  insufferable 
egotists,  and  the  exasperating  blunders  of  the  intelligent  compositor.  He  did  his  duty  in 
life,  was  honored  by  his  friends,  and,  now  that  he  is  dead,  his  place  will  not  be  easily 
filled  by  his  eqxuil.— Rochester  Democrat  and  Chronicle. 

But  the  unpardonable  offence  in  journalism  is  to  look  upon 
death  as  a  fit  subject  for  fantastic  humor  and  execrable  puns. 
(See  pp.  101-104.)  Thus,  a  reporter  on  the  St.  Paul  Pioneer-Press 
tells  the  tale  of  a  man  who  drank  a  bottle  of  whiskey  at  one  sitting, 
and  died  in  the  act,  as  follows  : 

Oeorge  Dapp  of  Oshkosh  made  a  bonded  warehouse  of  his  bay-window,  and  turned  his 
toes  up  to  the  daisies. 


Chap.  Xn.l  BOMBAST.  223 

Even  more  repulsive  are  the  following  : 

A  b«d  little  boy  hail  some  powder, 
And  in  trying  to  make  it  go  louder 

He  snoocoded  so  well 

That  hiH  folks  couldn't  tell 
Hia  remains  from  a  dish  of  clam  chowder. 

A  lady  named  Mary  Magui-&h 
•  Had  trouble  in  lighting  hor  fiah. 

The  woo<l  b«!iiig  grt-rn, 

She  u«e<l  kerowno — 
[Paiific ;  thon  continue  Hok-mnly,] 
She's  gone  where  the  fuel  is  dry-ah. — Puck. 

The  same  criticism  applies  to  carelessness  in  the  language  em- 
ployed, even  when  the  intention  of  the  \^Titer  is  to  be  respectful. 

A  tragic  scene  is  thus  depicted  by  the  hand  of  one  of  the  most 
matter-of-fact  of  all  penny-a-liners:  "The  corpse  lay  in  a  berth 
adjoining  the  cabin,  scarcely  yet  cold,  with  the  young  wife  hang- 
ing over  it  and  bewailing  her  loss  in  the  most  piteous  tones  in  the 
Flemish  tongue,  she  being  unable  to  ni^ak  or  understand  a  word 
of  English." 

Bombast. — AVliile  trifling  language  applied  to  a  seri- 
ous subject  is  offensive,  high-flown  language  applied  to 
trifling  subjects  is  grotesque.  Hence  to  ridicule  a  turgid 
style  is  the  easiest  form  of  burlesque.     Thus  : 

m  THE  VALB  OP  SORROW. 

She  look  the  veil  I    So  young,  so  fair. 

She  seemed  almost  too  pure  for  earth ; 
Anmnd  her  seemed  to  breathe  an  air 

That  came  of  more  than  human  birth. 

She  took  the  veil  t    Slow  snnk  the  ran, 

Aa  loath  to  leare  so  fair  a  sight. 
To  leave  so  bright  and  pure  a  one 

To  Caoe  the  coming  gloom  of  night. 

She  took  the  veil  I    Bat  Stewart's  clerk. 

Who  »w  her  Uke  it,  took  her  too ; 
The  Jodge  said,  *'  This  is  pretty  work  ; 

So,  madam,  niaety  days  for  yon.** 

**  So  you're  not  going  to  marry  Ezra  Haskins's  daughter,  though 
yon  know  my  heart  is  set  on  that  match,"  thundered  Sir  Marma- 


224  NARRATION.  [Pabt  IIL 

duke,  the  faiiy  king,  io  his  son,  Lem  Muton,  the  ox-tamer  of 
Yellow  Springs.  *  *  No,  sir,  '*  meekly  replied  the  young  man.  ' •  And, 
sir,"  roared  the  exasperated  father,  "may  I  ask  you  why  you  thus 
dare  to  tliwart  my  expressed  will  ?  "  **  Yes,  sir,"  said  his  son,  in  a 
low,  faint  voice,  like  a  joke  before  breakfast,  *'  because  I  asked  her 
and  she  said  she'd  rather  marry  a  pump  log  for  brains  than  any- 
body in  this  family.**  "Ah!"  exclaimed  Sir  Marmaduke,  with  a 
falling  inflection,  and  then  he  turned  away  to  the  new  Ayrshire  cow 
in  the  comer  of  the  lot,  and  said,  in  the  voice  of  a  thunder- cloud, 
"Huddup  yer  foot,  ye  fur-tailed  imp  of  a  thistle  patch,  or  Fll 
knock  ye  over  with  a  neck-yoke  !  **  And  his  own  son  knew  that 
the  proud-spirited  old  man  was  thinking  of  Her. — Burlington 
Hawkey  e, 

CONSOLATION. 

"  Why  are  you  aad.  Beryl  ?  " 

The  ^rl  turned  her  head  slightly  as  theae  words  were  spoken,  and  as  her  lissome  fig- 
ure, with  its  roanded  cnnres  and  beaatifnl  flesh  tints,  stood  sharply  outlined,  clear  and 
perfect  as  a  cameo,  in  the  moonbeams  that  were  falling  in  a  silver  spray  through  the 
branches  of  the  linden  trees,  the  sight  was  indeed  a  pretty  one.  Greorge  W.  Simpson 
looked  at  her  earnestly  a  moment,  and  saw  that  tears  were  welling  up  in  the  dusky  brown 
eyes,  and  sobs  that  could  not  be  restrained  convulsing  the  girlish  form. 

"  Why  should  I  not  be  sad  ?  "  she  said.  The  sweet  summer  is  dying.  There  are 
hollows  in  her  fair  cheeks ;  a  pathetic  droop  about  the  ripe  red  lips,  dark  ahadows  be- 
neath the  lovely  eyes.  And  already  across  the  hazy  hills  autumn  peers,  berry  stains  on 
her  brown,  slim  fingorf,  purple  vines  trailing  about  her,  scarlet  buds,  and  golden-rod  for 
the  coronal,  and  a  broken  reed  for  her  sceptre.  Already  the  hollows  are  brimmed  with 
amber  haze  and  the  hill-topR  crowned  with  blue  smoke.  The  sun  looks  languidly  through 
dream  clouds ;  a  yellow  leaf  falls  here  and  thcnre,  and  some  prudent  birds  fly  southward 
ere  yet  the  first  frost  makes  the  fruit  ruddy  and  ripens  the  hazel-nuts  in  the  hedges,  ere 
yet  the  sumac  catches  some  blood  drops  from  the  heart  wound  of  fainting  summer,  and 
the  aster  looks  with  blue  and  wistful  eyes  from  the  woodland  path. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  time  fraught  with  suggestions  that  are  mournful,"  said  George,  "  but 
surely  there  is  one  gleam  of  hope,  one  little  ray  of  golden  sunshine  amid  all  the  mist  and 
clouds  "—and,  bending  over  the  girl  in  a  loving  fashion,  he  whispered  a  word  in  her  ear. 

A  smile  chased  away  the  despondent  look,  and  the  tears  that  dimmed  starry  eyes  were 
quickly  dashed  away.  Putting  her  arms  around  George's  neck,  Beryl  murmured  softly 
and  with  a  look  of  perfect  trust :  "  You  are  right,  sweetheart,  I  had  forgotten  the  oys- 
ters."—C/*ica£/o  Tribune. 

Descriptions  Should  be  Specific. — Says  Lord 
Kames  :  "  Objects  oiiglit  to  be  painted  so  accurately  as  to 
form  ill  the  mind  of  tlie  reader  distinct  and  lively  images. 
Every  useless  circumstance  ought  indeed  to  be  suppressed, 


Chap.  Xlt]  SPECIFIC  DETAILS  S25 

because  every  such  circuinstaiice  loads  the  narration  ;  but 
if  a  circumstance  be  necessary,  however  slight,  it  cannot 

be  described  too  minutely Shakspei-e  says,  *  You 

may  as  well  go  about  to  turn  the  sun  to  ice  by  fanning  in 
his  face  with  &j)eat'Ock^s  feather.'  The  peacock's  feather, 
not  to  mention  the  beauty  of  the  object,  completes  the 
image :  an  accurate  image  cannot  be  formed  of  that  fanci- 
ful operation  without  conceiving  a  particular  feather ;  and 
one  is  at  a  loss  when  this  is  neglected  in  the  description." 

The  economy  of  the  recipient's  mental  energy,  into  which  are 
thus  resolvable  the  several  causes  of  the  strength  of  Saxon  Eng- 
lish, may  equally  be  traced  in  the  superiority  of  specific  over 
generic  words.  That  concrete  terms  produce  more  \'ivid  impres- 
sions than  abstract  ones,  and  should,  when  possible,  be  used  in- 
stead, is  a  thorough  maxim  of  composition.  As  Dr.  Campbell 
says,  **  The  more  general  the  terms  are,  the  picture  is  the  fainter  ; 
the  more  special  they  are,  the  brighter."  We  should  avoid  such 
a  sentence  as : 

In  proportion  u  the  manners,  costomis  and  amnaementa  of  a  nation  are  cruel  and 
bartwroos,  tbe  regulations  of  their  penal  code  will  be  severe. 

And  in  place  of  it  we  should  write  : 

In  proportion  as  men  delight  in  battles,  bnll-fights,  and  oombata  of  gladiators,  will 
tbej  poniah  by  hanging,  burning,  and  the  rack. 

This  superiority  of  specific  expressions  is  clearly  due  to  a  saving 
of  the  effort  required  to  translate  words  into  thoughts.  As  we  do 
not  think  in  generals  but  in  particulars— as,  whenever  any  class  of 
things  is  referred  to,  we  represent  it  to  ourselves  by  calUng  to 
mind  indi\'idual  members  of  it — it  follows  that  when  an  abstract 
word  is  used,  the  hearer  or  reader  has  to  choose  from  his  stock  of 
imiftgeB,  one  or  more,  by  whicli  he  may  figure  to  himself  the  genus 
mentioned.  In  doing  this,  some  delay  must  arise — some  force  be 
expended  ;  and  if,  by  employing  a  specific  term,  an  appropriate 
image  can  be  at  once  suggested,  an  economy  is  achieved,  and  a 
more  vivid  impression  produoed. — Hssbebt  Spkngeb. 

"  I  have  coveted  no  man's  silver  or  gold  or  apparel ;  nay,  ye 
jounelvea  know  that  these  hands  have  ministered  to  my  necesai- 


226  NARRATION.  [Pakt  IH. 

ties  and  to  them  that  were  with  me."— Acts  xx.,  33,  34.  Had  he 
said  my  hands,  the  sentence  would  have  lost  nothing,  either  in 
meaning  or  i)er8i>icuity,  but  very  much  in  vivacity. — Campbell. 

Aristotle  has  remarked  "  that  uneducated  men  have  more  iwwer 
of  persuasion  among  the  ignorant  than  the  educated  have ;  be- 
cause the  latter  are  apt  to  speak  of  matters  of  common  knowledge 
and  of  a  general  character,  while  the  former  speak  from  their  own 
knowledge,  and  say  the  things  that  are  close  to  their  hearers." 
(Rhet.  n.  xxii.,  3.)  But  the  example  of  such  men  as  Luther  and 
Latimer  shows  that  the  learned  can  acquire  the  power  of  speaking 
of  familiar  things  in  the  plain  style. — Hekvey. 

The  Use  of  Proper  Names. — Hence  dates,  and 
the  names  of  persons  and  places,  give  exactness  and  reality 
to  the  narration. 

Every  one  is  sensible,  for  instance,  that  the  most  humorous  or 
entertaining  story  loseth  egregiously  when  the  relator  cannot  or 
will  not  name  the  persons  concerned  in  it.  No  doubt  the  naming 
of  them  has  the  greatest  effect  on  those  who  are  acquainted  with 
them,  either  personally  or  by  character,  but  it  hath  some  effect 
even  on  those  who  never  heard  of  them  before.  It  must  be 
an  extraordinary  tale  indeed  which  we  can  bear  for  any  time  to 
hear  if  the  narrator  proceeds  in  this  languid  strain :  A  certain  i^er- 
son  who  shall  be  nameless  on  a  certain  occasion  said  so  and  so,  to 
which  a  certain  other  person  in  the  company  who  shall  likewise 
be  nameless  made  answer.  Nay,  so  dull  doth  a  narrative  commonly 
appear  wherein  anonymous  individuals  only  are  concerned,  that 
we  choose  to  give  feigned  names  to  the  persons  rather  than  none 
at  all. — Campbell. 

Caution  should  be  exercised,  however,  in  naming  per- 
sons whom  a  narrative  reflects  upon.  Unless  there  is  good 
reason  to  tell  of  another  what  that  other  would  regret  to 
have  told,  the  narrative  approaches  libel,  and  the  narrator 
appears  at  best  as  a  gossip. 

Wendell  Phillips  was  formerly  severely  censured  for  personal 
criticism  and  condemnation  in  his  speeches.     He  replied  :  "  If  I 


Chap.  XIL]  AVOID  SUPERLATIVES.  227 

denounce  what  seems  to  be  moral  cowardice  in  the  abstract,  every- 
body yawns  and  agrees.  If  I  say  I  mean  Edward  Everett,  whom 
everybody  respects,  and  whose  political  example  seems  to  me  per- 
nicious, everybody  may  be  shocked,  but  they  fall  to  thinking." 

The  point  of  satire  lies  in  its  indiWduality.  Its  victims  must 
have  a  local  habitation  and  a  name.  Sly  allusion,  semi-equivocal 
expression,  and  pointed  insinuation,  too  well  defined  to  leave  its 
personal  application  doubtful,  therefore,  foinu  a  large  part  of  the 
diction  of  journalistic  articles  relating  to  social  life,  while  in  poli- 
tical warfare  the  boldest  libels,  the  most  undisguised  grossness  of 
abuse,  alone  suit  the  palate  of  heated  partisanship.  Hence  the 
dialect  of  i)ersonal  vituperation,  the  rhetoric  of  malice  in  all  its 
modifications,  the  art  of  damning  ^yith.  faint  praise,  the  sneer  of 
contemptuous  irony,  the  billingsgate  of  vulgar  hate,  all  these  have 
been  sedulously  cultivated,  and,  combined  with  a  certain  flippancy 
of  expression  and  ready  command  of  a  tolerably  extensive  vocabu- 
lary, they  are  enough  to  make  the  fortune  of  any  sharp,  shallow, 
unprincipled  journalist,  who  is  content  with  the  fame  and  the  pelf 
which  the  unscrupulous  use  of  such  accomplishments  can  hardly 
fail  to  secure, — Mabsh. 

Avoid  Superlatives. — "Writers  of  inferior  rank 
are  continually  upon  the  stretch  to  enliven  and  enforce 
their  subject  by  exaggeration  and  superlatives.  This,  un- 
luckily, has  an  effect  contrai-y  to  what  is  intended  ;  the 
reader,  disgusted  with  language  that  swells  above  the  sub- 
ject, is  led  by  contrast  to  think  more  meanly  of  the  subject 
than  it  may  ]>ossibly  deserve.  A  man  of  prudence,  besides, 
will  be  no  less  careful  to  husband  his  strength  in  writing 
than  in  walking:  a  writer  too  liberal  of  superlatives  ex- 
hanstfi  his  whole  stock  upon  ordinary  incidents,  and  re- 
serves no  share  to  express,  with  greater  energy,  matters 
of  importance." — Kames. 

Vbrt. — **  This  very  small  wonl  is  very  often  used  in  the  English 
language  when  a  sentence  would  be  very  much  stronger  and  the 
meaning  very  much  more  forcible  without  it.    If  a  man  has  not 


228  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

much  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head,  it  is  not  enongh  for  people  to  say 
simply  that  he  is  bald,  but  he  is  very  bald.  A  man  is  not  stingy, 
but  he  is  very  stingy,  when  the  one  good  strong  word  'stingy' 
would  put  the  whole  point  forcibly.  A  doctor  of  divinity  is  not 
learned,  but  very  learned  ;  a  doctor  of  medicine  is  not  crotchety, 
he  is  very  crotchety ;  while  a  lawyer  is  not  cunning,  but  veiy  cun- 
ning. In  the  same  way,  a  young  lady  is  not  handsome,  but  very 
handsome.  The  qualifier  has  become  so  common  that  it  is  weak- 
ening to  the  word  it  is  joined  to.  In  nine  cases  out  of  ten  where 
very  is  used  to  intensify  human  speech,  a  single,  bold  word  with- 
out the  nery  would  hit  the  meaning  like  a  hammer,  and  drive  it 
home  with  a  directness  unknown  to  clogged  and  hampered  expres- 
sion. 

•'  *  Very '  seems  to  be  a  word  designed  by  providence  for  young 
ladies  to  express  their  feelings  with.  This  portion  of  the  com- 
munity probably  could  not  get  on  without  their  adverb,  but  the 
English  of  the  rest  of  the  race  would  be  strengthened  if  the  little 
qualifier  were  relegated  almost  wholly  to  the  fair  class  to  whom  it 
belongs.  It  creeps  into  our  literature  as  insidiously  as  the  measles 
into  a  family  of  fifteen,  and,  once  there,  it  stays  like  an  oflSce- 
seeker.  It  breaks  out  everywhere,  even  in  the  most  high-toned 
and  *  cultivated '  writing.  A  newsj^aper,  which  is  authority  on  the 
art  of  literary  comjwsition,  prints,  for  instance,  a  thrilling  descrip- 
tion of  a  brilliant  party.  Every  lady  present  was  very  much  this 
or  that.  Mrs.  Blank,  who  was  a  very  intimate  friend  of  Mrs.  Gen- 
eral Dash,  wore  a  very  handsome  green  satin  dress,  and  had  a  very 
handsome  silver  comb  in  her  back  hair.  IVIrs.  General  Dash  wore 
an  exceedingly  becoming  dress,  which  was  very  elaborately  made. 
Two  young  ladies,  whose  dresses  were  exceedingly  becoming  and 
very  graceful,  were  accompanied  by  a  yoimg  man  who  had  a  very 
light  moustache.  Everybody  was  either  'very,'  or  'exceedingly,' 
or  '  most  highly '  something.     The  air  bristled  with  superlatives. 

"It  combines  instruction  with  amusement  to  count  the  'veries* 
in  a  column  of  newspaper  advertisements.  A  *  general  housework ' 
applicant  is  not  content  with  being  a  respectable  woman  and  a 
good  cook.  She  is  a  very  respectable  woman  and  a  very  good  cook. 
It  is  enough,  in  all  conscience,  to  be  said  of  a  woman  that  she  is 
a  superior  waitress.     Superior  itself  means  better  than  good,  but 


Chap.  XII.]  AVOID  SUPERLATIVES.  229 

this  uncommon  waitress  tacks  on  the  word  *  very,'  too,  and  thus 
becomes  very  better  than  good. 

•'  The  climax  of  veriness  is  reached,  however,  by  a  girl.  She  is 
*  a  very  competent  cook,  understands  waiting  at  table  in  a  veiy 
efficient  manner,  and  is  in  all  respects  very  first-class.'  *  In  all  re- 
spects very  first-class  qualifications '  is  good.  It  is  only  equalled 
by  the  young  man  who  was  a  very  perfect  horseman  and  rode  a  very 
black  horse.  A  fine  example,  too,  of  the  redundant  '  very '  is  the 
reply  of  the  old  tar  who  was  blown  overboard  at  Trafalgar,  and 
rescued  with  much  difficulty,  and  who,  long  afterward,  being 
asked  by  a  symimthetic  lady  how  he  felt  on  th§^  occasion,  an- 
swered :  *  Wet,  ma'am,  very  wet.'  " — Cincinnati  Commercial. 

Nkwsfapeb  EHOLlsn.— Now,  in  the  days  of  Frankhatn  the  king,  it  was  80  that 
Prankfelps.  tho  klnjj's  moswinger,  went  oat  into  the  land  of  The  Hawkej/e  and  made  pro- 
cUunation  unto  tlie  people,  saying : 

**  What  doext  thou  knowext,  and  if  thou  knowcRt  naught,  what  ia  it?'* 

Por  be  Raid  within  himself,  "Verily,  that  which  they  know  not  in  as  the  eand  upon 
the  Ma-«hore  as  oorapai-ed  with  that  which  they  know,  and  it  will  go  farther  to  All 
up.'' 

But  the  people  held  their  peace,  for  the  times  were  barren  and  there  was  a  famine  of 
Itcmx  in  the  land. 

And  the  king'tt  mesenger  returned,  nnd  he  quoted  from  the  wise  man,  and  said  :  ''Of 
a  rerity.  it  is  ao  Solomon  Miid  when  ho  was  local  on  the  Jerumiem  OverUxker,  there  is 
notbing.ncw  under  the  sun." 

But  the  king  comma luled  him,  saying,  "  Whoop  her  up ! " 

And  it  was  ■«>  that  Fmnkfelps,  the  king's  messenger,  was  wroth,  and  he  said  :  "  What 
is  this  that  the  king  commandeth  ?   That  I  shall  make  bricks  without  straw  ?  " 

And  he  got  him  a  notebook  that  was  as  big  as  an  atlas,  and  girded  up  his  loins  and 
went  forth. 

And  he  spake  unto  a  man  on  South  Hill,  saying :  "  The  smoke  a*  of  a  borning  aa- 
orndcth  from  that  back  yard  ;  tell  me,  I  pray  thee,  what  is  the  cause  thereof?  " 

And  the  South  Hill  man  said  :  **  Of  a  verity  it  is  only  the  ash  barrel,  and  is  it  not  al- 
ready put  out  ?  " 

But  the  king's  mesacnger  was  glad,  and  he  opened  his  notebook  and  wrote  therein : 
"Dreadful  Holocaust!  The  Devouring  Element  sweepa  over  Sonth  Hill!  The  Dun 
Cicada  of  Murky  Smoke  blot  out  the  Sunlight !  The  Fiery  Flames  with  Forked  Tongues 
flj  throagh  the  Lurid  Atrooupbere ! " 

And  his  heart  was  glad.  And  it  was  so  that  he  met  a  boy  at  the  depot  selling  apples^ 
dx  for  a  nickel,  to  the  travellers  on  the  train.    And  the  lad  was  weeping. 

So  the  king's  meseanger  sayeth  unto  him  :  "  Whence  so  much  weepeth  ?  ** 

Bat  the  lad  said :  "  VerQy.  when  I  would  nell  my  apples  on  the  train,  the  train  boy 
roae  op  againit  dm,  and  entrpated  me  roughly,  and  toased  my  apple*  nnder  the  baggago- 
tmck,  and  invaitod  me  «T«n  with  the  order  of  the  0.  B.**  Which,  by  interpretatloii,  la 
tlie  Orand  Bounoe. 

And  the  meewnger  laughed  and  made  merry  with  himself,  and  wrote  in  his  note-book  : 
'^AiwChvlMroaiilMIadnitqrFunlyaedt    The  Iron  Beel  of  Monopoly  apoo  the  Neck 


230  NARRATION.  [Part  III 

of  Hooeit  EntcrpilM  I  A  Prominent  BusineM  Hodm  Boined  bj  Pitiless  Competition  and 
Corporate  Privileges  t  ^ 

Then  he  saw  a  man  who  had  tarried  long  at  the  wine,  and  was  telling  his  aspirations 
and  fears  even  unto  the  sUent  Indian  who  Rtandeth  in  front  of  the  cigar  store  and  tle- 
ladeth  mankind  with  wooden  tobaooo.  And  while  the  man  talked  the  officer  commanded 
him  that  he  ahouid  huHh  it  up.  And  he  would  nut.  but  Rpake  even  yet  more  loudly.  And 
the  offloer  clapped  the  "come  alongs"  onto  him,  and  run  him  in,  and  took  him  even 
when  be  would  not.  . 

And  the  messenger  wrote  in  hix  book :  '*  Despotism  TJnmaakBd  1  Liberty  Assailed  by 
the  Iron  Hand  of  Might  I  The  Right  of  Free  Speech  Trampled  Upon  I  Right  of  the 
People  to  Assemble  and  Discuss  Ignored  and  Outraged.*" 

Then  it  was  so  that  he  met  a  boy  who  had  trod  upon  a  nail  in  the  plank  walk,  and  tlio 
lad  was  weeping  and  swearing. 

And  the  messenger  smiled  and  entered  upon  his  chronicles :  '*  Heart-rending  Accident ! 
The  Bleeding  and  sUngled  Body  of  the  Victim  Conveyed  to  his  Home ! " 

Then  he  pursued  his  journey  and  saw  a  West  Hill  man  at  work,  and  he  said  unto 
him :  "  Friend,  what  doest  thou  ?  ** 

And  the  man  said:  ''Lo,  thou  seeat;  I  am  taking  down  this  old  front  gate,  which 
many  years  and  a  few  daughters  have  rendered  well-nigh  nseleas.** 

And  the  king*H  messenger  sighed  and  wrote  the  head-lines  in  his  book  of  chronicles  : 
"  The  loonoclasm  of  Progress  !     Another  Old  Landmark  Gone  !  " 

Then  it  was  so  that  he  Raw  yet  another  man  who  was  bupy,  and  when  he  saw  that  the 
man  was  patching  a  bati  place  in  the  roof  of  his  born  with  new  shingles,  he  wrote : 
"  Hammer  and  Hatchet !  New  Buildings  Gk)ing  up  on  North  Hill !  New  Roofs  that 
Mock  the  Clouds,  and  Stately  Domes  that  Kiss  the  Stars !  " 

And  he  closed  the  book  of  record  and  was  merry,  and  he  humped  himself  back  into 
the  office  and  commanded  that  they  should  place  before  him  five  bundles  of  new  paper 
and  a  barrel  of  ink. 

And  the  king  was  astonished,  and  said  unto  the  messenger  :  "  How  is  the  city  ?  " 

And  the  messenger  made  obeisance  unto  the  king,  and  said  :  "  Oh,  king,  live  forever ! 
The  land  of  The  Ilawkeye  is  bully.  Only  out  three  hours,  and  six  triple-headers,  with 
four  wards  to  hear  from  !     Order  on  twenty  quires  extra,  and  send  word  to  the  trains !  " 

And  when  the  king  was  gone  out,  Frankiefelps,  the  king's  messenper,  looked  at  the 
youngest  servitor  of  the  king,  who  held  his  peace,  for  he  was  amazed  and  wot  not  how  it 
come  so,  for  he  himself  had  been  out  all  morning,  and  had  returned  again  unto  his  place 
barren. 

But  the  king's  messenger,  while  he  looked  upon  the  young  man,  let  fall  the  lid  of  his 
eye,  that  it  well-nigh  closed,  and  he  laid  his  finger  upon  his  nose,  and  he  said  unto  the 
young  man  :  "  Bonnie,  t)e  of  good  cheer ;  thou  hast  much  to  learn ;  nevertheless,  this  is 
the  way  the  old  thing  works." 

And  the  next  day  the  pai)er  sold  like  smoke. 

And  the  people  marvelled,  and  said  one  to  another,  "  Is  it  not  dreadful  that  daily  such 
things  should  happen  in  our  midst  ?  •' 

And  they  locked  the  doors  ere  they  went  to  bed  at  night. 

And  the  king's  messenger  held  hia  peace  and  looked  wise;  and  he  said  unto  the 
people :  "  No  man  but  myself  knoweth  what  a  day  has  to  bring  toxtXiJ'''— Burlington 
JFatokeye, 

Avoid  Epithets. — Some  adjectives  have  been  so  of- 
ten associated  with  certain  nouns  that  they  no  longer  pro- 


Chap.  Xn.]  AVOID  EPITHETS.  231 

duce  a  distinct  impression,  the  two  words  together  merely 
forming  a  sort  of  poetical  circumlocution  for  the  noun 
alone.  Such  epithets  pad  out  the  narrative  without 
strengthening  it,  and  are  often  ridiculous. 

Thus  a  New  Hampshire  editor  speaks  of  a  '*  new  bread  wagon, 
])aintcd  in  the  highest  style  of  decorative  art,  bearing  upon  its  side 
in  golden  letters  the  talismanic  word  Biddle,  and  drawn  by  a  coal- 
black  steed,  clad  in  a  neat  fitting  and  ornamental  haiTiess,  to 
which  were  added  broad  white  reins,  skilfully  handled  by  a  good- 
looking  driver." 

Many  writers  of  that  kind  abound  so  in  epithets,  as  if  poetry 
consisted  entirely  in  high-sounding  words.  Take  the  following 
instance : 

When  bisck-browed  Night  her  dusky  mantle  spread, 

And  wrapt  in  noleniQ  gloom  the  sable  sky : 
When  soothing  Sleep  her  opiate  dews  had  shed. 

And  sealed  in  silken  slumbers  every  eye : 
ICy  wakefnl  thoaghts  admit  no  Imlmy  rest, 

Nor  the  sweet  bliss  of  soft  oblivion  share : 
Bnt  watchful  woe  distracts  my  aching  breast. 

My  heart  the  sabject  of  corroding  care : 
Prom  hannts  of  men  with  wandering  steps  and  slow 

I  solitary  steal,  and  soothe  my  pensive  woe. 

Here  every  substantive  is  faithfully  attended  by  some  tumid 
epithet ;  like  young  master,  who  cannot  walk  abroad  without  hav- 
ing a  laced  livery-man  at  his  heels.  Thus  in  reading  without 
taste,  an  emphasis  is  laid  on  every  word ;  and  in  singing  vnth- 
out  taste,  every  note  is  graced.  Such  redundancy  of  epithets,  in- 
stead of  pleasing,  produce  satiety  and  disgust. — Kames. 

A  principal  device  in  the  fabrication  of  the  mock-eloquent  style 
is  to  multiply  epithets— dry  epithets,  laid  on  the  outside,  and  into 
which  none  of  the  vitality  of  the  sentiment  is  found  to  circulate. 
You  may  take  a  c^'eat  number  of  the  words  out  of  each  })age,  and 
find  that  the  sense  is  neither  more  nor  less  for  your  having  cleared 
the  composition  of  these  epithets  of  chalk  of  various  colors,  with 
wliich  tlio  tamo  thoughts  had  submitted  to  be  rubbed  over  in  order 
to  be  made  tino.— Foutsb. 


NARRATION.  [Part  IIL 

The  unthinking  use  of  epithets  leads  to  ridiculous  in- 
consistencies.    Thus : 

I  solemnlj  declare  that  I  hare  not  wi^uUy  committed  the  least 
mistake.  — S^tft. 

So  tbepair*  limpid  itzeam,  when  foul  with  tUUna, 
Of  nnhiag  torrents  and  dtnowirting  raina.— Aodisow. 

I  mentioii,  u  in  oottrtety  bound,  an  aoooant  of  this  oouNtmetion  which  has  been  nent 
me  by  a  oorrespoadent  anxloas  to  rindioate  Shakspen  from  baring  oaed  a  modem  tuI- 
gariam.— Au^omD. 

Shakspert^s  having  used  a  modem  vulgarism  is  about  eqnal  to 
Jeffrey's  remark  in  h\s  Essays:  *'It  is  well  known  that  the  an- 
cients have  stolen  most  of  our  bright  thoughts/* — Moon. 

Now  it  is  undeniable  that  a  great  portion  of  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
write  poetry  and  stories  never  Faw  an  aspen  leaf  or  heard  the  noten  of  a  nightingale,  to 
reoognlae  either  of  them.  Yet  it  is  quite  safe  to  challenge  any  one  to  find  anywhere  in 
their  poetry  or  prose  that  whra  their  heroine  was  frightened  she  did  not  tremble  like  an 
aspen  leaf ;  or  when  she  lifted  up  her  Toioe  in  song  that  she  did  not  sing  as  sweetly  as  a 
nightingale.  It  is  also  an  undeniable  fact  that  no  human  corpse  that  is  properly  buried  is 
•rer  eaten  by  vrorms,  and  yet  with  what  ill-oonoealed  delight  they  always  remind  us  that 
we  shall  be  food  for  those  detestable  snimals,  and  how  pleased  they  are  to  speak  more 
oocrectly,  of  man  hinutelf  being  bui  a  worm  of  the  dust.  Yon  will  also  notice  in  the  writ- 
ings of  these  persons  that  though  they  are  always  climbing  the  mount  of  Parnassus  or  at- 
tempting to  scale  its  heights,  yet  that  they  deem  fame  to  be  but  an  empty  bubble  or  like  the 
baseless  fabric  of  a  dream.  They  love  to  study  the  book  of  nature,  and  hope  with  them 
often  soars  exultant,  and  subsequently  folds  her  wings.  Their  youth  build  many  air- 
castles  and  poise  Uie  cup  of  happiness  to  their  lips :  a  certain  number  of  summers  or 
springs  always  pass  over  their  heads  (which  gave  rise  to  a  joke  referring  to  the  springs  in 
ladles*  hoops),  after  which  time  they  fall  a  prey  to  Cupid's  arrows,  and  are  bound  in  the 
holy  bonds  of  matrimony.  Their  children  perish  like  blossoms,  while  their  old  men  are 
cut  down  by  time's  scythe.  They  speak  of  those  bom  as  being  ushered  into  existence,  and 
of  those  who  die  as  being  launched  into  eternity.  Their  travellers  always  wend  their  way 
instead  of  going.  Their  ships,  before  embarking  on  the  raging  main,  invariably  weiph 
anchor  and  then  walk  the  waters  like  a  thing  of  life.  Their  cannon  are  loud-mouthed. 
Their  streams,  when  frozen,  are  bound  by  winter's  icy  chain.  The  twelve  o'clock  bell  is 
the  iron  tongue  of  midnight.  Their  dancers  are  votaries  of  Terjisichore  who  trip  the  light 
fantastic  toe.  They  frequently  refer  also  to  beetling  crags,  natal  days,  green-eyed  jeal- 
ousy, bitter  tears,  the  king  of  day,  the  silver  moon,  fcirlom  hope*,  adamantine  souls, 
bowers  of  ease,  the  pangs  of  poverty,  time's  eCFacing  fingers,  laughing  sunbeams,  false 
caitiffs,  the  fleeting  breath,  and  to  skeletons  in  the  closet. 

In  descriptions  of  natural  scenes  yon  will  notice  a  prevalence  of  such  things  as  blos- 
soming meadows,  rippling  streams,  babbling  brooks,  blue  skies,  smiling  sunlight,  green 
Terdure,  cool  retreats,  umbrageous  shadows,  feathered  songsters  and  melodious  warbler^. 

Tou  will  notice  that  pretty  girls  are  as  beautiful  as  houris,  with  the  form  of  Hebe, 
with  rosy  cheeks,  pearly  teeth,  laughing  eyes,  dimpled  chins,  alabaster  brows,  and  cherry 
or  ruby  or  coral  lips.     Certainly  there  is  no  womanly  beauty  that  has  not  been  described 


Chap.  XII.]        OMIT   IRRESISTIBLE  INFERENCES.  233 

orer  and  orer  •gain ;  and  I  rappone  the  deacriptions  of  heroines  from  all  the  novelii  and 
abort  atotiea  eiver  written  would  oonform  to  aix  or  ei^ht  modcU,  that  wonld  inclnde 
■evaral  eooentric  typea;  for  the  great  nuws  would  be  inclndod  under  four  nimlelK. 

In  the  papera  an  accident  in  a  frightfol  catantrophe,  a  Ktreet  flKht  a  terrible  affray,  an 
•anolt  la  a  diabolical  outrage,  euicide  la  a  rash  act,  a  bad  laan  is  a  fiend  in  human  shape, 
a  peraon  who  does  anything  bad  Hucceeds  in  aoooniplishing  his  hellish  design,  fire  is  the 
devouring  element,  things  are  postponed  on  account  of  the  inclemency  of  the  weather 
(meaning  rain),  people  are  prevented  from  doing  things  by  circumstances  over  which 
they  have  no  cuntrol,  and  actors  and  actreaaea  are  deterred  from  playing  by  indispoaition 
(meaning  that  they  are  sick  or  indisposed  to  play).— Wakkmah. 

Omit  Irresistible  Inferences. — A  story  before 
118,  in  telling  of  the  call  of  the  heroine  at  a  Fifth  Avenne 
mansion,  states  that  when  the  carriage  stopped  she  de- 
scended, shut  the  carriage-door  behind  her,  mounted  the 
steps,  rang  the  bell,  ^called  tiU  the  door  was  opened,  gave 
her  card  to  the  servant  that  appeared,  and  entered  the 
hall.  A  few  of  these  details  might  safely  have  been  left 
to  the  imagination. 

"We  have  received  a  story  entitled  "  A  Dark  Deed,"  which  is  re- 
spectfully declined.  The  first  chapter  opens  with,  "It  is  mid- 
night." This  is  all  right.  It  is  often  midnight — at  least  seven 
times  a  week  ;  but  the  author  forgot  to  add,  "  and  silence  brooded 
over  the  city."  This  is  a  fatal  oversight.  Silence  always  brootls 
over  a  city  when  it  is  midnight  in  works  of  fiction — although  no- 
where else.  We  can't  print  a  story  in  which  silence  doesn't  brood 
at  midnight. — NorriMown  Herald. 

A  reiwrter  of  the  Herald  was  assigned  last  night  to  "write 
something  al)out  the  weather — something  about  the  heat — some- 
thing about  the  scarlet  rash  and  the  dog-days,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing."  What  he  evolved  from  the  inmost  recesses  of  his  heat- 
oppro.ssed  brain  is  here  presented  in  a  revised  form  with  due  apolo- 
gies for  its  production. 

**  It  was  a  timely  topic '* 

I^STiat  lmme«liately  foUrtwod  the  abore  utatement  haa  heen  eliminated,  for  ft  partook 
of  rtlitorin!  aiwrrtion  ;  and  repurteni  arc  not  eniploycil  to  dictate  the  policy  of  newspapers, 
even  on  topics  aa  gmerai  n*  the  weather.— The  KiliU>r.] 


"All  day  long  the  hot  sun  i)oured  down  its 


234  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

[Nothing  bat  a  pwnre  of  txuiiieM  it  aoooaiitAble  for  the  •ppcftranoc  of  this  )vt 
■entmce.  Of  oonne  ** all  day  long^  the  "hot**  Ban  had  ''poored  down"  its  Bcorch- 
log  "  rays !  *'  The  mm  don't  Bhine  in  the  night  time;  there  is  no  oold  son  ;  if  the  suit 
was  ''hot"  it's  only  nataral  to  sappoee  that  ifai  rays  were  "aoorching,"  and  if  the 
"  Hoorching  rays"  had  poured  ap  there  woold  have  been  no  need  of  this  article  I  The 
same  old  glittering  generalities  I— The  Bditor.] 

"While  it  is  hardly  probable  that  the  day  was  the  hottest 
known  to  the  memory  of  the  oldest  inhabitant " 

[Of  coarse  it  is  "  hardly  probable ; "  the  day  of  the  Chicago  fire  was  infinitely  hotter. 
BesideH,  the  reporter  was  not  here  when  the  oldetit  inhabitent  arrived,  or  he  wouldn't 
now  be  reporting  for  a  daily  paper;  and  the  "oldest  inhabitant **  as  a  general  thing  is 
only  fit  anyway  to  attend  funerals,  sit  on  coroner's  jaries,  and  swap  Uea  with  the  next 
oldest  inhabitant.— The  Editor.] 

"  Every  one  was  ftilly  comdnced  that  the  dog  days  had  at  last 
arrived " 

[Of  coarse  they  watre,  when  all  know  that  dog  days  begin  July  25th  and  last  until 
September  8d,  and  someCimee  a  week  longer. —The  Editor.] 

"  The  scarlet  rash,  that  dread  scourge  of  the  full-blooded  per- 
son—" 

[The  rest  of  that  nentencc  betrayed  so  great  familiarity  with  the  condition  of  the 
bodies  of  the  sweltering  public  that  it  was  manifestly  abtmrd.  The  reporter  himself  may 
have  the  scarlet  rash  or  the  crimson  lake  eruption — that's  nobody's  business  but  his  own, 
and  of  no  interest  to  the  readers  of  this  journal.— The  Editor.] 

**  The  beer  saloons  and  soda  fountains  were  liberally  patronized 
by  the  thirsty  populace " 

[Populaces  not  thirsty  are  not  expected  to  patronize  any  fluid-vending  establishment. 
Moreover,  the  Herald  is  not  a  free  advertising  agent  of  any  slop  shop. — The  Editor.] 

**And  the  exhausted  toiler  sank  to  restless  sleep  breathing  a 
prayer  that  the  morning  would  bring  relief." 

[It  will  perhaps  be  surmised  from  the  above  that  the  exhausted  toiler  was  the  re- 
porter, and  that  he  sank  to  restless  sleep  and  sent  down  his  "  copy  "  afterward.  But  he 
didn't.  He  finished  his  writing  before  he  went  home  and  before  the  cooling  rain  fell  on 
the  parched  earth.  He  had  no  ri^ht  nor  reason  to  say  that  the  "  exhausted  toiler  "  sank 
to  "  restless  sleep."  An  "  exhausted  "  toiler  will  sleep  a  restless  sleep  for  the  simple  rea- 
son that  he  can't  do  otherwise.  And  the  statement  that  ho  prayed  for  relief  on  the  morrow 
is  superfluous  bt!caiise  all  the  prayers  in  the  nation  wouldn't  change  the  what-is-to-be,  and 
praying  against  fate,  even  with  Vennor  on  one's  side,  is  foolish  u?elessness. — The  E<litor.] 

"The  temiierature  yesterday,  as  observed  by  Manasse,  optician, 
88  Madison  Street,  was  as  follows:  8  a.m.,  80;  9  a.m.,  82;  10 


Chap.  XII.]  PRESERVE  UNITY.  236 

A.M.,  83;  11  A.M.,  85;  12  m.,  86;  1  p.m.,  88;  2  p.m.,  89;  3  p.m., 
90 ;  4  P.M.,  91 ;  5  p.m.,  91 ;  6  p.m.,  89." 

[The  last  item  contains  ample  information  for  the  enlightenment  of  the  resident  wboee 
l>erBonal  experience  has  not  oonvinoed  him  that  it  was  very,  very  hot  yesterday.— The 
EiUUtT.]— Chicago  Uerald. 

Above  All,  Preserve  Unity. — Let  your  story  be  not 
only  about  something,  but  about  some  one  thing. 

It  is  one  of  the  charms  of  **  Robinson  Crusoe  "  that  all  the  inci- 
dents are  grouped  about  a  single  hero.  In  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress "  half  the  interest  that  has  been  so  imflaggingly  main- 
tained through  the  first  part  evaporates  when  the  adventures  per- 
tain to  a  company  instead  of  a  single  individual.  The  discovery 
of  America  is  a  familiar  story  so  far  as  Columbus  remains  the  cen- 
tral figure,  but  when  the  interest  is  diverted  from  one  to  another 
of  a  dozen  explorers,  it  soon  diminishes,  and  fixes  nothing  in  the 
memory. 

A  sketch  in  Harper^s  Weekly  begins  thus : 

The  body  of  Stephen  Oirard  lies  in  a  saroophagns  in  the  vestibole  of  the  main  college 
building,  which  is  bnilt  after  the  model  of  a  Grecian  temple ;  its  34  Corinthian  columns 
measure  six  feet  in  diameter,  and  are  66  feet  high,  and  cost  |16,000  each.  The  college 
with  96  pupils. 


Imagination  in  Narration. — The  truth  of  fiction 
is  as  real  as  the  truth  of  fact.  Indeed,  there  is  a  sense  in 
which  fiction  is  truer  than  fact ;  for  while  fact  deals 
largely  with  marvels,  with  the  unusual  and  the  ahnoriiial, 
especially  with  the  une.xpected,  fiction  is  powerless  except 
as  it  deals  with  such  events  and  consequences  as  appear 
probable.  The  Dime  Novel  finds  readers  only  among 
those  too  inexperienced  and  ignorant  to  detect  the  im- 
probabilities that  abound  (see  page  210).  The  fictions 
that  live,  live  because  their  trutli  to  nature  is  confirmed 
by  the  general  experience  of  mankind. 

I  can  well  sympathize  with  the  contempt  mingled  with  indigo 


NARRATION.  [Part  IIL 

nation  expressed  by  Cicero  against  certain  philosophers  who  found 
fault  with  riato  for  having  in  a  case  he  projKJses  alluded  to  the 
fabulous  ring  of  Gyges,  which  had  the  virtue  of  making  the 
wearer  invisible.  They  had  found  out,  it  seems,  that  there  never 
was  any  such  ring.  (De  Of.  III.,  9.)— Whately. 

Facts  Supplemented  by  the  Imagination. — 

Wlieii  the  facts  given  are  thorouglily  a|)preheiided  and 
made  real  in  the  mind,  tliey  clothe  tlieinselves  in  the 
imagination  with  incidents  not  recorded,  but  correctly  con 
ceived  in  proportion  as  the  imagination  is  vivid.  Such 
incidents  may  therefore  be  used  to  supplement  absolute 
facts,  and  in  much  narration  are  essential  to  life-like  pre- 
sentation. 

It  is  imagination  that  gives  vivid  comi>arisons  like  the  following : 
The  battle  of  Waterloo  was  fought  on  a  piece  of  ground  resem- 
bling a  capital  A.     The  English  were  at  the  annex,  the  French  at 
the  feet,  and  the  battle  was  decided  about  the  centre.  —V.  Hugo. 

The  main  question  as  to  a  novel  is — Did  it  amuse  ?  Were  you 
surjjrised  at  dinner  coming  so  soon  ?  Did  you  mistake  eleven  for 
ten,  and  twelve  for  eleven  ?  Were  you  too  late  to  dress  ?  and  did 
you  sit  up  beyond  the  usual  hour  ?  If  a  novel  produces  these 
effects,  it  is  good  ;  if  it  does  not — stors-,  language,  love,  scandal 
itself  cannot  save  it.  It  is  only  meant  to  please  ;  and  it  must  do 
that,  or  it  does  nothing. — Sydney  Smith. 

-  A  Teacher's  Experienoe. — Some  ten  years  ago  I  became  a 
teacher  in  a  large  boarding  school.  The  boys  were  mostly  from 
wealthy  but  uncultivated  families,  who  sent  their  children  away 
to  school  because  they  could  not  manage  them  at  home.  Of 
coui*se  it  was  not  easy  to  control  them,  but  of  all  times  it  was 
hardest  to  keep  them  in  order  on  Sunday  afternoons.  On  week- 
days, we  could  so  break  up  their  hours  by  meals,  and  recitations, 
and  drills,  and  study-hours,  that  they  had  no  two  consecutive 
houi-s  to  themselves,  but  when  we  had  taken  them  to  church  in  the 
morning  and  to  church  at  half-past  one,  there  remained  the  long 
period  from  three  o'clock  till  eight,  interrupted  only  by  supper. 


Chap.  XH.]  NEED  OF  IMAGINATION.  237 

It  seemed  necessaiy  to  put  an  honr's  Bible  lesson  into  that  pe- 
riod, but  the  principal  of  the  school  said  he  had  tried  that  once, 
and  he  could  not  make  it  work.  The  boys  complained  that  three 
hours  in  a  hot  little  country  church,  with  two  dry  sermons,  a  melo- 
deon-led  choir,  cusluonless  seats,  and  two  marks  if  they  whisi^ered, 
was  religion  enough  for  one  day ;  and  he  added  with  a  chuckle 
that  he  thought  the  boys  were  about  right. 

There  arose,  then,  this  problem  :  how  to  interest  in  a  weekly 
Bible  lesson  boys  of  no  previous  religious  ti-aining,  and  with  a 
prejudice  against  anything  of  the  kind.  I  resolved  to  select  one 
Bible  story  for  each  Sunday,  and  to  tell  it  in  such  a  way  that  they 
would  enjoy  hearing  it,  and  want  to  hear  another.  So  I  mapped 
out  my  work,  and  first  made  myself  thoroughly  acquainted  with 
the  story  as  told  in  the  Bible.  I  made  tables  of  chronology,  pre- 
pared maps,  and  looked  up  all  the  marginal  references.  Then  I 
got  all  the  helps  u\K>n  which  I  could  lay  hands,  two  or  three 
Bible  dictionaries,  Josephus,  the  best  commentaries,  anything 
])ubli8hed  which  could  give  details.  Then,  when  I  had  fairly  in 
hand  everything  I  could  find  which  was  authentic,  I  filled  in  from 
my  imagination.  I  said  to  myself,  this  story  is  not  for  scholars, 
but  for  rough  boys,  and  I  must  tell  it  so  as  to  make  ujwn  them  the 
same  impression  that  the  narrative  makes  upon  me.  So  I  filled 
in  here,  I  enlargetl  there,  I  dwelt  upon  details,  I  introduced  local 
comi>arisons,  I  made  use  of  the  boys'  own  experience,  and  espe- 
cially of  incidents  which  had  happened  at  the  school,  where  there 
was  any  opportimity  to  draw  a  parallel ;  and,  in  short,  I  made  the 
story  real  to  every  boy  there.  I  don't  believe  it  sounded  ortho- 
dox ;  but  it  held  the  boys,  because  it  was  in  symjMitliy  with  their 
thought  and  experience.  And  I  don't  mind  expressing  my  opinion 
that  if  we  are  to  contend  successfully  with  the  flood  of  sensation- 
alism with  which  the  news-counters  and  the  heads  of  our  boys  are 
teeming,  we  must  ofl*er  in  its  i)lace  something  else  besides  the 
"Westminster  Catechism  and  Bishop  South's  sermons. 

It  has  been  well  said  that  the  only  unpardonable  fault  in  a  book 
is  to  be  unreadable,  because  if  it  is  unreadable  it  is  not  a  book. 
So  I  would  say  that  the  only  uni)ardonabIe  fault  in  teaching  is  to 
be  uninteresting ;  for  tea(*hing  which  does  not  interest  is  not 
teaching.     The  condition  of  thought-quickening  is  sympathy. 


238  NABRATION.  [Pakt  III 

HINTS  ON  HISTORICAL  BSSAY-WRITINQ. 

I.  Accumulation  of  Material. 

1.  Consult  cyclopaedias  for  a  general  view  of  the  subject,  and 
for  literature. 

2.  Bead  the  best  histories  for  the  subject  in  its  relations  to 
general  history. 

3.  Bead  monographs  for  details. 

4.  Make  copious  notes  from  works  read,  and  seek  by  indepen- 
dent, patient  thought  to  understand  the  facts  in  relation  to  : 

a.  Their  intrinsic  value. 

b.  Their  relative  importance. 

c.  The  relations  of  cause  and  effect 

5.  Jot  down  every  significant  fact  and  idea  that  occurs. 

II.  Composition. 

1.  Make  a  preliminary  sketch  or  outline  of  the  essay,  and  sub- 
ject it  to  revision. 

2.  Make  a  complete  analysis,  and  revise  it. 

3.  Write  rapidly  and  continuously,  con  amore. 

4.  Subject  the  essay  to  careful  revision  as  to  : 

a.  Historical,  logical,  and  rhetorical  qualities,  correctness 
of  fact,  and  justness  of  philosophy. 

h.  Unity,  symmetry,  and  completeness  of  structure,  com- 
prehensive and  concise. 

c.  Clearness,  force,  elegance,  and  adaptation  of  style. 

5.  Append  list  of  authorities  consulted,  and  give  references  and 
citations. 

III.  General  Considerations. 

1.  A  thoroughly  good  essay  will  be  a  delight  and  encourage- 
ment to  the  teacher,  a  model  and  a  stimulus  to  \  he  class,  an  honor 
to  the  school,  and  in  many  ways  a  great  help  to  the  writer.  A 
poor  essay — but  there  should  be  none. 

2.  An  essay  should  be  a  growth,  but  growth  is  facilitated  by 
cultivation ;  therefore  take  plenty  of  time,  and — use  it.  Procras- 
tination is  failure. 


Chap.  XXL]  THE  HISTORICAL  ESSAY. 

3.  A  good  essay  is  worthy  of  being  well  read. 

4.  A  full  synopsis  spread  ui)on  the  black-board,  or,  better  still, 
famished  to  the  teacher  and  to  each  member  of  the  class,  would 
be  creditable  to  the  writer  and  grateful  to  his  listenera. 

5.  Two  useful  maxims  are : 

a.  "Breailtli    without    accuracy   and    accuracy  without 

breadth  are  almost  equal  evils." 

b.  "  We  underatand  the  diffuse, — we  remember  the  con- 

cise." 

6.  Helpful  questions : 

a.  Who?  What?  Where?  When?  How?  Why? 

b.  (Of  events).  What  then  ? 

c.  Why  not? 

d.  What  of  it? 


METHOD  OF  BIOGRAPHICAL  STUDY. 

I.  Sources. 

1.  Autobiography,  if  extant. 

2.  Diary,  journal,  letters. 

8.  Accounts  wntteu  by  contemporaries. 

4.  Published  works. 

5.  Biographies. 

6.  General  histories. 

II.  Accessories. 

1.  Portraits. 

2.  Pictures  of  places. 

3.  Personal  visit  to  scenes  associated  with  the  man. 

4.  Whatever  gives  vividness  to  our  conceptions. 

PSELIMINABT  AOOOUNT  OP  HIB  AOB. 

1.  Ancestry. 

2.  Birth — a,  time ;  b.  place. 

3.  Education — a.  home ;  h.  schools ;  c.  books  (aU  fonnatiye  in- 
fluences) ;  (/.  nature  ;  e.  public  events  ;  /.  traveL 


240  NARRATION.  [Part  III. 

III.  Arrangement  of  Materials. 

4.  Orderly  statement  of  the  chief  events  in  which  he  partici- 
pated, and  the  part  he  took  in  them. 

6.  Death — a.  time  ;  h.  place  ;  c.  circumstances. 

0.  Estimate  of  cliaracter — a.  personal  appearance ;  b.  mental 
qualities ;  c.  moral  qualities ;  </.  influence  on  the  world ;  e.  com- 
parison with  others. — Gen.  T.  J.  Moboan. 

TWO  INOIDKNTS  WELL-TOLD. 

Tbbt  ▼sal  so  HmaBT.— "  Last  nUrht,''  said  Polioemui  Dojie  of  the  Iteocr 
Street  Station,  "  I  wm  walking  in  Broadway,  near  Bond  Street.  It  wan  about  mindown. 
My  attention  waa  attracted  by  a  crowd  of  eome  four  hundred  people  around  the  entrance 
to  the  straw-hat  factory  of  Ball  &  Ray  at  fSM.  Everybody  was  yelling  up  at  the  second 
story  of  the  building.  I  looked  up,  and  there  I  caw  a  young  woman  standing  on  the  cor- 
nice outeide  the  Heoond-story  window. 

"  '  Hullo  ! '  says  I. 

"  '  Vm  awful  hungry,*  says  she. 

**  Then  Rhe  naid  that  she  and  four  other  girls  were  locked  in.  A  man  of  many  words 
who  stood  directly  behind  me  kept  shouting :  '  I  hear  it's  a  fire.  If  so  be  as  it  is,  put  it 
out!' 

*'  Then  the  young  woman  shouted  down :  '  We  are  all  locked  in,  and  we  can't  get 
out :  and  whatever  shall  we  do  ?  When  they  closed  up  the  building  they  locked  five  of 
OS  in,  and  we're  so  very  hungry.' 

"'  If  so  be  as  they're  hungry,'  says  the  man  behind  me,  '  give  'em  food.' 

"  The  girl  in  the  window  went  on :  '  The  janitor  went  homo  with  the  key  about  six 
o'clock.  He  cried  *'  All  out  I  "  and  then  locked  the  door  and  went  home.  We  were  not 
out,  and  we're  very  hungry.' 

"  *  If  90  be  as  they  can't  get  out,'  says  the  man  behind  my  ear,  '  call  out  the  fire  de- 
partment and  get  a  hook  and  ladder.' 

"  I  learned  from  the  girls  that  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  place,  Mr.  Thomas  L. 
Ball,  lived  at  117  East  One  Hundred  and  Twenty-eighth  Street.  I  immediately  ran  to 
the  station  and  told  the  sergeant.  He  tel^raphed  to  Mr.  Ball,  and  a  little  later  down  he 
comes  to  the  scene. 

*' '  Oh,  Mr.  Ball,  please  let  us  out,  'cause  we're  so  very  hungry,'  said  the  young  ladies. 

"Mr.  Ball  said  he  hadn't  any  key,  and  he  didn't  know  where  the  janitor  lived.  A 
small  boy  appeared  who  said  he  knew  the  janitor,  and  would  fetch  him,  which  he  did, 
and  the  girls  were  let  out.  When  they  went  away  the  man  behind  my  ear  eays  he  to 
them,  '  Now,  if  so  be  as  you're  hungry,  why  go  and  eat. ' " 

Mr.  Thomas  L.  Ball  was  found  at  six  o'clock  yesterday  afternoon  at  his  place  of 
business,  and  he  corrolwrated  the  policeman's  story.  While  he  was  speaking  five  girls 
slipped  out  of  the  door  and  ran  down  the  stairs.  The  reporter  followed  them.  They 
were  all  standing  together,  talking  and  laughing,  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Are  you  the  unfortunate " 

"  Oh,  please  don't  speak  to  us  ! "  said  the  oldest  one. 

"Why  not?" 

"  'Cause  we  don't  want  to  be  printed,  and  we're  very,  very  hungry.''— iVl  Y.  Sun, 


Chap.  XII.  J  AN  INCIDENT  WELL-TOLD.  241 

Pathbb  and  Son.—"  Come,  papa  ;  I  know  where  we  are.  This  is  the  Bowery,  and 
Oanal  Street  is  only  a  little  way  up.    Come  on." 

The  speaker  was  a  boy  about  seven  years  old.  He  was  neatly  and  warmly  dressed, 
and  as  prettily  spoken  tm  any  of  the  children  that  play  in  Reaenrolr  Square  un  a  summer 
•ftemoon.  His  hand  was  clasped  in  the  big,  begrimed  palm  of  a  man  in  the  dress  of  a 
hard-working  mechanic.  The  man  wa«  so  drunk  that  he  nearly  went  upon  all  fours,  and 
when  he  lurched  from  one  side  to  another  he  jerked  the  little  fellow  from  his  feet.  It 
was  half-past  three  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning. 

**  Yes,  ril  show  yer  papa  where  to  go.     Come  right  along  with  me." 

The  second  speaker  wan  a  young  man  with  broad  shuuldent,  and  wearing  clothes  that 
were  fashionable  the  year  before.  He  spoke  in  a  coaxing  voice,  and  caught  the  man's 
hand  while  he  whm  speakinx.  and  tried  to  hustle  the  man  and  boy  along  from  the  corner 
of  Diviiiion  Street  toward  the  New  Bowery.  The  little  fellow  protested  that  he  wanted  to 
go  op  the  Bjwery  t<>  Canal  Street.  He  clasped  his  father's  hand  with  both  his  own,  and 
togged  manfully  in  the  direction  he  wanted  to  go.  saying  :  *'Come  on,  papa ;  this  is  the 
way." 

•'  What  are  ye  doin'  ?  " 

The  thiril  speaker  growled  that  question  to  the  young  man  with  broad  shonlders. 
He  was  a  stout,  bow-legged  person,  dresxed  in  coarse  clothess  and  he  eyed  the  young  man 
■ospldoonly  from  under  the  brim  of  a  slouched  hat.  The  young  man  dropped  the 
drunken  man*8  han  1  and  hurried  away. 

Tiie  little  boy  was  not  alarmed  at  the  overtures  of  the  man  who  had  gone,  nor  did  he 
show  any  sign  of  gratitude  to  the  man  who  had  interfered  ;  he  was  intent  only  on  get- 
ting his  father  home  They  started  up  the  Bowery,  the  father  staggering  from  one  side 
of  the  walk  to  the  other,  and  the  little  fellow  clinging  to  his  hand  and  encouraging  him 
with  :  *'  Come  on,  papa ;  I  know  the  way/' 

While  cro^wing  the  Bowery  at  Canal  Street  the  man  fell,  and  it  seemed  in  the  dark- 
ne«  to  those  a  sh  irt  distance  behind  as  though  he  must  have  fallen  on  the  child.  They 
lay  toffether  in  the  street  for  a  moment,  but  when  a  policeman  arrived  the  little  fellow 
was  np  and  tugging  at  his  father's  hand. 

'*  Is  that  your  pr>p,  sonny  ?  "  the  policeman  asked. 

"  Tes,  sir ;  he's  my  father." 

•♦  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

•*  In  Mott  Street -only  two  blocki  ovwr.    Come  on.  papa :  I  know  the  way." 

The  drunken  man  had  got  to  lUs  faat,  and  U>e  little  fellow  led  him  away  toward  hoaa 
>jr.  r.  6um. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


The  subject  defined,  p.  206. 

Of  all  composition  the  easiest,  p.  208. 

Three  kinds : 

Narration  of  incident,  p.  200. 

Narration  of  character,  p.  211. 

Narration  of  imprewions,  p.  212. 


242  TOPICAL  ANALYSia  (Part  lU. 


WHAT  TO  TELL,  p.  213. 

ACCURACY,  p.  212. 

Close  obeervation,  p.  212. 
Memory  for  details,  p.  213. 
Selection  of  what  is  typical,  p.  214. 
Rejection  of  what  is  low,  or  trivial,  p.  215. 
Historical  value  of  revealment,  p.  215. 

Macaulay's  description  of  Boswell,  p.  216. 
Details  of  value,  only  when  characteristic,  p.  220. 

HOW  TO  TELL,  p.  221. 

A  SUITABLE  TONE,  p.  221. 

Illustrations  from  notices  of  death,  p.  221. 

Bombast,  p.  223. 

Easily  burlesqued,  p.  223. 
DESCRIPTIONS  SHOULD  BE  SPECIFIC,  p.  224. 

The  use  of  proper  names,  p.  226. 

Caution  in  naming  those  reflected  upon,  p.  226. 
AVOID  SUPERLATIVES,  p.  227. 

Very,  p.  228. 

Newspaper  English,  p.  229. 
AVOID  EPITHETS,  p.  230. 

Epithets  often  lead  to  inconsistency,  p.  232. 
OMIT  IRRESISTIBLE  INFERENCES,  p.  233. 
ABOVE  ALL,  PRESERVE  UNITY,  p.  235. 
IMAGINATION  IN  NARRATION,  p.  235. 

Facts  supplemented  by  the  imagination,  p.  236, 
HINTS  ON  HISTORICAL  ESSAY-WRITING,  p.  238. 
TWO  WELL-TOLD  SKETCHES,  p.  240. 


CHAPTER  Xm. 

DESCRIPTION. 

Pure  art  is  that  which,  whether  it  describes  a  scene,  a  character,  or  a  sentiment,  lays 
hold  of  its  inner  meaning,  not  its  surface  ;  the  type  which  the  thing  embodies,  not  the 
accidents ;  the  core  or  heart  of  it,  not  the  accetworics.  As  Mr.  Bagehot  expresses  it,  the 
perfection  of  pure  art  is  "  to  embody  typical  conceptions  in  the  choic-est,  the  fewest  aod- 
denta,  to  embody  ihem  so  that  each  of  these  accidents  may  produce  its  full  effect,  and 
M>  embody  them  without  effort."  Descriptions  of  this  kind,  while  they  convey  typical 
yet  retain  perfect  individuality.  They  are  done  by  a  few  strokes,  in  the 
poasible  words  ;  but  each  stroke  tells,  each  word  goes  home. — Shaibp. 


Allied  to  Narration. — Nearly  every  suggestion  that 
Las  been  made  as  to  Narration  applies  also  to  Description. 
Indeed  the  two  are  so  closely  allied  that  each  is  constantly 
trespassing  on  the  other,  so  that  it  is  seldom  easy  to  draw 
a  distinct  line  between  them.  The  basis  of  narration  is 
action,  progress ;  that  of  description  is  rest,  abiding  char- 
acteristics. But  action  comes  from  rest,  and  ends  in  it ; 
progress  depends  upon  characteristics,  and  is  interesting 
in  proportion  as  it  develops  them. 

Throe  Eiements  enter  into  a  complete  description. 

a.  Cla88\ficatioti. :  the  class  to  which  the  object  belongs, 
and  the  points  of  agreement  and  difference  between  it 
and  other  objects  of  the  same  class. 

b.  Particular  Features:  Its  appearance,  form,  size, 
color,  etc.;  its  locality  or  situation,  with  the  time  and 
circumstance  under  which  you  see  it ;  its  history  and 
changes ;  its  structure,  with  a  description  of  its  parts  ;  its 
characteristic  features,  or  points  of  special  interest ;  its 
habits  (if  it  be  an  animal)  ;  its  kinds  or  varieties,  etc 


244  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  III. 

c.  Reflections:  Its  qualities,  uses,  influence,  etc. ;  if  some- 
thing you  have  seen,  its  effect  upon  your  feelings  or  imag- 
ination. 

Not  all  these  particulars  will  be  mentioned  in  connection  with 
every  object,  nor  will  they  often  be  mentioned  in  the  order  here 
given.  Reflections,  especially,  will  be  introduced  as  suggested  by 
the  various  elements  of  the  description.  But  it  i^ill  be  well  to 
have  in  mind  some  such  general  frame  upon  which  to  stretch  the 
more  typical  features  of  the  object  to  be  described.  A  few  analyses 
from  Dalgleish  will  suggest  the  use  of  this  synopsis. 

1.  A  Olook. 

a.  An  instmrnent  for  meMuring  and  iodicating  time — oompare  with  nin-dial ;  iwnd- 
glMNetc. 

b.  The  dial,  divided  into  houni  and  rainntes — nnaller  circles  divided  into  Kconds — 
handK— works ;  wheels  moved  by  spring  or  weightfr— pendulum,  its  nse — fnsee  cylinder, 
its  use— kinds  ;  hoose  clock,  public  clock,  watch,  etc. 

e.  Begnlarity— ezaotnees  of  indication— use  in  regolatinff  onr  occapations— importance 
of  ponctoality. 

S.  Thx  Horak. 

a.  Hoofed  quadruped :  contrast  with  lion — non-ruminating :  contrast  with  cow. 

h.  Found  in  a  wild  state  in  Tartary  and  America — long  body — long  and  slender  legs, 
adapted  for  running — durable  hoofs — silken  mane  and  tail — skin  covered  with  short  hair, 
smooth  and  glossy — cutting  teeth  in  front — grinders  behind — space  between  those  in 
which  the  bit  is  placed — gregarious  in  a  wild  state — feeds  on  grass,  oats,  etc.—  draught 
horse — riding  horse — racer— hunter,  etc. 

c.  To  man,  the  most  useful  of  the  animalo,  in  peace  or  'n  war — leather — horse-hair, 
etc. — qnalitiea,  easily  domesticated,  docile  and  affectionate,  patient,  persevering,  cour- 
ageons. 

3.  Thb  Falls  of  Niaoaba. 

a.  The  most  gigantic  known  waterfalls  in  the  world. 

h.  Situated  on  the  River  Niagara,  connecting  Lakes  Erie  and  Ontario,  separatinp  the 
United  States  from  Canada— twenty-two  miles  from  Erie,  fourteen  from  Ontario— strength 
of  the  rapids  for  a  mile  above  the  falls — narrowing  of  the  channel— great  declivity,  sixty 
feet  in  the  mile— divided  by  Groat  Island  (seventy-five  acres)  into  the  Canadian  or  Horse- 
shoe fall  (18U0  feet  broad,  154  feet  high)  and  the  American  fall  (600  feet  broad,  160  feet 
high) — on  Canadian  side,  water  thrown  ont  to  fifty  feet  from  the  base  of  the  cliff,  leaving 
a  passage— finest  view  of  the  whole  cataract  from  Table  Rock  on  Canadian  side. 

c.  Vastness — {wwer — grandeur — sense  of  danger. 

Describe  what  you  have  Seen. — Interest  in 
description  of  natural  o])jects  depends  largely  upon  the 
assurance'that  the  writer  is  giving  his  own  views  and  im- 


Chap.  Xin.J         DESCRIBE  WHAT  YOU  HAVE  SEEN.  245 

pressions,  instead  of  summarizing  those  of  others :  we  re- 
member listening  once  to  an  admirable  lecture  on  the 
Great  Pyramid,  all  our  delight  in  which  was  suddenly 
dampened  when  the  lecturer  confessed  that  he  had  never 
been  in  Egypt.  Hence  preference  should  always  be  given 
to  what  one  has  not  only  seen,  but  seen  with  such  vivid 
impression  that  one's  own  feelings  will  enter  naturally  and 
prominently  into  the  description.  Better  describe  a  mud- 
puddle  which  one  has  looked  at  and  been  interested  in, 
than  the  Falls  of  Niagara  at  second-hand. 

For  exercise,  to  be  sure,  it  is  often  well  to  write  about  imaginary 
journeys.  The  pupil  may  describe  the  ride  he  would  take  in 
going  from  his  home  to  Boston,  New  Orleans,  London,  Pekin. 
So  he  may  describe  an  imaginary  animal  or  race  of  beings ;  the 
appearance  and  circumstances  of  the  membei*s  of  his  class  twenty 
years  hence  ;  a  prospective  balloon-line  between  New  York  and  the 
Cape  of  Oood  Hope.  But  let  him  use  such  material  only  for  prac- 
tice exercises.  When  it  becomes  important  that  the  description 
should  have  value  of  its  own,  as  a  description,  i)erhaps  the  first  re- 
quisite is  that  it  be  of  what  the  writer  has  actually  seen  and  been 
impressed  by. 

The  Personal  Element. — In  fact,  the  personal 
element  in  description  is  often  its  greatest  charm.  (See 
page  108.)  The  reader  should  have  his  sympathy  roused 
by  a  warm  individuality  breathing  through  the  accumu- 
lated details.  Mueh  description  derives  its  greatest  charm 
not  merely  from  the  fact  that  it  receives  us  into  the  heart 
of  the  writer,  but  that  it  opens  to  us  that  heart  in  some 
especial  mood,  as  of  sadness,  joy,  perplexity.  Even  the 
sea  and  the  mountiiins  take  an  additional  meaning  when 
they  are  invested  with  human  interest.  The  proper  study 
of  mankind  is  man  ;  and  the  writer  will  have  few  i-eaders 
if  he  descril)e8  with  such  analytical  precision  as  to  elimi- 
nate his  own  pei-sonality. 


246  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  III. 

It  is  observed  bj  opticians  and  astronomers  that  a  side-view  of 
a  faint  star  or  especially  of  a  comet  presents  it  in  much  greater 
brilliancy  tlian  a  direct  view.  To  see  a  comet  in  full  splendor, 
you  should  not  look  straight  at  it,  but  at  some  star  a  little  beside 
it.  Something  analogous  to  this  often  takes  place  in  mental  per- 
ceptions. It  will  often,  therefore,  have  a  better  effect  to  describe 
obliquely  (if  I  may  so  speak),  by  introducing  circumstances  con- 
nected with  the  main  object  or  event,  and  affected  by  it,  but  not 
absolutely  forming  a  part  of  it. — Whately. 

And  what  in  ao  rare  as  a  day  in  Jon*  f 

Then,  if  ever,  oome  perfect  days ; 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  earth  If  it  be  in  tone. 

And  orer  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays. 
Whether  we  iouk,  or  whether  we  listen. 
We  hear  life  murmur,  we  see  it  glisten ; 
BTflry  clod  feels  a  stir  of  might. 

An  instinct  within  it  that  reaches  and  towers, 
And,  groping  blindly  above  it  for  light. 

Climbs  to  a  soul  in  grass  and  flowers; 
The  flush  of  life  ma}'  well  be  seen 

Thrilling  back  over  hills  and  valleys; 
The  cowslip  startles  in  meadows  green. 

The  butteroapoatchea  the  sun  in  its  chalice, 
And  there's  never  a  leaf  nor  a  blade  too  mean 

To  be  some  happy  creature's  palace ; 
The  little  bird  sits  at  his  door  in  the  sun, 

A-tilt  on  a  blossom  among  the  leaves. 
And  lets  his  illumined  being  o'errun 

With  the  deluge  of  summer  it  receives ; 
His  mate  feels  the  eggs  beneath  her  wings. 
And  the  heart  in  her  dumb  breast  flutters  and  sings; 
He  sings  to  the  wide  world,  and  she  to  her  nest, — 
In  the  nice  ear  of  Nature,  which  soug  is  the  beet  ? 

Now  is  the  high- tide  of  the  year, 

And  whatever  in  life  hath  ebbed  away 
Comes  flooding  back  with  a  ripply  cheer, 

Into  every  bare  inlet  and  creek  and  bay ; 
Now  the  heart  is  so  full  that  a  drop  o'erfills  it, 
We  are  happy  now  l>ecause  God  wills  it ; 
No  matter  how  b.irren  the  past  may  have  been, 
'Tis  enough  for  us  now  that  the  leaves  are  green ; 
We  sit  in  the  warm  shade  and  feel  right  well, 
How  the  sap  ci-eeps  up  and  the  blossoms  swell ; 
We  may  shut  our  eyes,  but  we  cannot  help  knowiag 
That  skies  are  clear  and  grass  is  growing ; 


Chap.  XIU.]  THE  PERSONAL  ELEMENT.  247 

The  breeia  oomes  whispering  in  our  ear, 

That  dandelions  are  blossoming  near. 

That  maize  has  sprouted,  that  streams  are  flowimg, 

That  the  river  is  bluer  than  the  sky, 

That  the  robin  is  plastering  his  honse,  close  by ; 

And  if  the  breeze  kept  the  good  news  back, 

For  other  couriers  we  should  not  lack  : 

We  could  gnees  it  by  yon  heifer's  lowing,— 
And  hark !  how  clear  bold  chanticleer, 
Warmed  with  the  new  wine  of  the  year, 

Tells  all  in  his  lusty  crowing  1 

Joy  oomea,  grief  goes,  we  know  not  how ; 
BTerything  is  happy  now. 

Everything  is  upward  striving  ; 
*ris  as  easy  now  for  the  heart  to  be  true 
As  for  grass  to  be  green  or  skies  to  be  blue, — 

*Ti8  the  natural  way  of  living. 
Who  knows  whither  the  clouds  have  fled  ? 

In  the  unscarred  heavens  they  leave  no  wake  ; 
And  the  eyes  forget  the  tears  they  have  shed. 

The  heart  forgets  its  sorrow  and  ache ; 
The  soul  partakes  of  the  season's  youth. 

And  the  sulphurous  rifts  of  passion  and  woe 
Lie  deep  'neath  a  silence  pore  and  smooth, 

Like  bumtrout  craters  healed  with  snow.— Lowxix. 

Candor  Essential.— The  personal  element  in  nar- 
ration is  not,  liowever,  a  result  of  direct  effort.  The 
writer  wlio  should  attempt  to  arouse  and  maintain  interest 
in  himself  would  be  insufferable.  His  end  must  be  to  re- 
produce upon  others,  as  nearly  as  possible,  the  impressions 
which  the  object  made  upon  him,  not  because  it  is  himself 
they  were  made  upon,  but  because  his  own  impressions 
are  the  only  criteria  by  which  he  can  judge  what  would 
be  the  impression  made  upon  others.  Hence  it  is  an  un- 
pardonable fault  in  description  to  describe,  not  the  im- 
pression made  upon  you,  but  the  impression  you  think 
ought  to  have  been  made  u|x>n  you.  (See  page  49.)  This 
produces  the  flattest  of  commonplace,  as  stupid  as  it  is 
insincere.     (Compare  page  141.) 

Mark  Twain's  "  Innocents  Abroad  '*  was  popular,  not  because  it 


248  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  XXL 

burlesqued  the  impressions  of  travellers,  bnt  becanse  it  described 
them.  Giving  a  party  of  ordinary  people  of  rather  low  tastes,  and 
they  will  be  as  unappreciative  as  the  persons  here  told  about. 
There  are  men  who  really  might  remember  nothing  of  one  of  the 
most  interesting  cities  of  Europe,  except  that  the  billiard-table 
they  played  on  there  was  not  level.  Usually  they  don't  tell  of  it. 
But  Mark  Twain  does  tell  of  it  for  his  party,  and  thousands  who 
have  felt  exactly  the  same,  but  have  never  dared  to  own  it,  read 
this  book  with  a  chuckling  satisfaction  that  after  all  their  own  stu- 
pidity was  not  abnormal.  It  is  not  a  thing  to  be  proud  of  that 
these  are  one's  impressions.  But  to  describe  them  with  brutal 
frankness  gives  them  at  least  the  value  of  genuineness,  which  would 
be  wholly  wanting  if  in  their  place  the  book  were  padded  out  with 
the  impressions  suggested  as  the  proper  thing  by  the  guide-book. 

Note  Feelings,  as  well  as  Facts. — To  describe 
impressions  requires  more  than  candor.  Only  a  habit  of 
observing  and  defining  one's  feelings,  and  of  remembering 
just  what  they  were,  will  enable  one  to  reproduce  them  for 
others.  But  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  this  is  the 
value  of  it.  The  majority  of  beholders  probably  have 
more  or  less  consciously  somewhat  the  same  feelings 
which  they  are  unable  to  put  into  words,  but  which  will 
be  recalled  by  a  vivid  description.  To  idealize  these  feel- 
ings, so  that  they  shall  be  recognizable  by  the  reader  as 
his  own,  and  yet  as  broader  and  deeper  and  nobler,  is  the 
highest  attainment  of  description  :  it  is  poetry  itself. 

Description  of  Familar  Objects  most  Enjoy- 
able.— There  is  this  marked  difference  between  narration 
and  description,  that  while  the  former  pleases  us  in  pro- 
portion as  the  incidents  are  novel  and  unexpected,  the 
latter  interests  us  in  proportion  as  we  are  familiar  with 
the  features  described.  The  criticisms  we  prefer  are  of  the 
books  we  have  read,  of  the  plays  we  have  seen,  of  the  art- 
galleries  we  have  visited.    The  newspaper  articles  we  select 


Chap.  XHI.]        FAMILIAR  OBJECTS  PREFERRED.  249 

are  those  that  tell  about  the  places  we  are  familiar  with, 
the  celebration  we  attended,  tlie  accident  we  saw,  the  meet- 
ing we  took  part  in.  A  prominent  feature  of  the  modern 
newspaper  is  its  minute  description  of  the  life  of  people 
we  see  everj'  day, — the  omnibus-driver,  the  peanut- vendor, 
the  organ-grinder,  the  workmen  at  all  kinds  of  humble 
employments.  In  the  mind  as  in  the  eye,  the  nearest  ob- 
jects are  the  largest. 

Of  course  there  are  things  better  worth  describing  than  the  Ufa 
of  an  organ-grinder ;  nor  can  the  patronizing  curiosity  with  which 
such  an  account  is  read  be  compared  with  the  feelings  inspii-ed  by 
Byron's  "Thunder-Storm  in  the  Alps,"  or  Coleridge's  "Hymn  in 
the  Vale  of  Chamouni."  But  such  descriptions  require  a  Byron  or 
a  Coleridge,  and  it  is  the  great  mistake  in  descriptive  composition 
to  imitate  the  productions  of  such  minds  without  realizing  any  of 
the  conditions  under  which  such  minds  wrote.  Byron  and  Cole- 
ridge put  their  feelings  into  words,  but  they  first  had  to  have  the 
feelings.  "We  cannot  command  such  feelings,  but  we  can  at  least 
follow  such  authors  in  candor,  giving  expression  to  our  own  genuine 
sensations,  whatever  they  may  be,  and  attempting  nothing  beyond 
our  exi>erience.  Better  get  an  organ-grinder's  confidence  and  jot 
down  what  he  tells  us,  under  inspiration  of  no  higher  feeling  than 
curiosity,  than  puflf  up  and  swell  and  burst  in  ridiculous  attempt 
while  being  a  frog  to  look  like  an  ox.  Our  aim  should  be,  not  to 
be  gresif  but  to  be  genuine.  The  limitations  of  the  former  are  not 
self-imposed,  and  put  no  obligation  uix)n  us.  If  we  fail  in  the  lat- 
ter, we  are  at  once  silly  and  culpable. 

Be  Specific. — As  in  narration  (see  page  225),  gen- 
eral termri  sliould  be  avoided,  and  every  object  presented 
in  its  clearly  defined  individual  aspect. 

Everything,  as  I  before  said,  in  description,  should  be  as  marked 
and  particular  as  possible,  in  order  to  imprint  on  the  mind  a  dis- 
tinct and  complete  image.  A  hill,  a  river,  or  a  lake  rise  up  more 
conspicuous  to  the  fancy  when  some  particular  lake  or  river  or  hill 
is  specified,  than  when  the  terms  are  left  geueraL — BiiAJB. 


250  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  IIL 

Individuals  alone  having  a  real  existence,  the  terms  denoting 
them  (called  by  logicians  '*  singular  terms")  will  of  course  make 
the  most  vivid  impression  on  the  mind,  and  exercise  most  the 
|)ower  of  conception  ;  and  the  less  remote  any  term  is  from  these, 
I.e.,  the  more  specific  or  individual,  the  more  energy  it  will  possess 
in  comparison  with  such  as  are  more  general.  The  impression  pro- 
duced on  the  mind  by  a  "  singular  term  *'  may  be  compared  to  the 
tlistinct  view  taken  in  by  the  eye  of  any  object  (suppose  some  par- 
ticular man)  near  at  hand,  in  a  clear  light,  which  enables  us  to  dis- 
tinguish the  features  of  the  individual ;  in  a  fainter  light  or  rather 
farther  off  we  'perceive  that  the  object  is  a  man  ;  this  corresponds 
i^-ith  the  idea  conveyed  by  the  name  of  the  species ;  yet  farther  off 
or  in  a  still  feebler  light  we  can  distinguish  merely  some  living 
object,  and  at  length  merely  some  object :  these  terms  denoting 
respectively  the  genera,  more  or  less  remote.  And  as  each  of  these 
views  conveys  as  far  as  it  goes  an  equally  correct  impression  to 
the  mind,  ....  so  in  language  a  generic  term  may  be  as 
cleaily  imderstood. — Whately. 

Fill  in  the  Picture. — " In  a  description,  on  the  other 
hand,  of  anything  tliat  is  likely  to  act  on  the  feelings,  this 
effect  will  by  no  means  be  produced  as  soon  as  the  un- 
derstanding is  sufficiently  informed  ;  detail  and  expansion 
are  here  not  only  admissible  but  indispensable,  in  order 
that  the  mind  may  have  leisure  and  opportunity  to  form 
vivid  and  distinct  ideas.  For,  as  Quintilian  observes,  he 
who  tells  us  that  a  city  was  sacked,  although  that  one  word 
implies  all  that  occurred,  will  produce  little  if  any  impres- 
sion on  the  feelings,  in  comparison  of  one  who  sets  before 
us  a  lively  description  of  the  various  lamentable  circum- 
stances. To  tell  the  whole,  he  adds,  is  by  no  means  to 
tell  every  tiling.  Accordingly  it  may- be  observed  that 
though  every  one  understands  what  is  meant  by  a  wound, 
there  are  some  who  cannot  hear  a  ininiite  description  of 
one  without  fainting.  The  death  of  Patroclus  is  minutely 
related  by  Homer  for  the  interest  of  the  reader,  though 


CJhap.  XIII.  ]  HEED  THE  PERSPECTIVR  251 

to  Achilles,  whose  feelings  would  be  sufficiently  excited 
by  the  bare  fact,  it  is  told  in  two  words,  UdrpoKXo^i  kcI- 
To*." — Whatkly. 

Heed  the  Perspective. — It  is  the  fundamental 
principle  of  picture-making  that  some  one  point  shall  be 
assumed  as  that  upon  which  the  eye  is  directed,  and  that 
the  size  and  prominence  of  every  object  drawn  shall  de- 
pend upon  its  relation  to  this  one  point.  So  in  word- 
painting,  there  must  be  an  aspect  of  the  scene  clearly  in 
mind  as  predominant,  and  other  details  must  be  selected 
and  dwelt  upon  just  in  proportion  as  they  contribute  to- 
ward making  this  aspect  vivid. 

As  I  look  from  the  window,  my  eye  rests  on  innumerable  objects 
— on  thousands  that  I  can  name.  It  is  manifest  that  simply  to 
enumerate  these  objects  would  produce  no  picture  whatever.  My 
first  thought  must  be,  How  does  this  scene  impress  me  ?  In  what 
aspect  do  I  want  another  to  view  it  ?  Then  I  must  select  such 
features  as  produce  this  impression,  giWng  them  prominence  in 
proportion  as  they  produce  it ;  and  must  ignore  not  only  such 
features  as  are  common  to  all  landscapes  and  have  here  no  sjjecial 
significance,  but  such  as  are  peculiar  to  this  landscape,  but  belong 
to  another  aspect  of  it,  so  that  if  introduced  in  this  description 
they  would  distract  the  attention. 

Build  up  the  Picture  Steadily  and  Systemat- 
ically.— "  You  will  find  this  a  good  gauge  or  criterion  of 
genius — whether  it  progresses  and  evolves,  or  only  spins 
upon  itself.  Take  Dryden's  Achitophel  and  Zimri, — 
Shaftesbury  and  Buckingham  ;  every  line  adds  to  or  mod- 
ifies the  character,  which  is  as  it  were  a  building  up  to  the 
very  last  verse ;  whereas  in  Pope's  Timon,  etc.,  the  first 
two  or  three  couplets  contain  all  the  pith  of  the  character, 
and  the  twenty  or  thirty  lines  that  follow  are  so  much 
evide!ifo  or  proof  of  overt  acts  of  jealousy  or  pride,  or 


352  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  III. 

whatever  it  may  be  that  is  satirized.  Jii  like  iiiiiiiner 
compare  Charles  Lamb's  exquisite  criticisms  of  Shakspere 
with  Hazlitt's  roimd  and  round  imitation  of  them." — Cole- 

RIDOE. 

An  admirable  illustration  of  this  building  up  is  afforded  by 
Bfacaulay's  description  of  Boswell  (see  j)age  216). 

He  first  makes  impressive  the  importance  of  his  subject.  In 
a  prominent  line  of  literature,  Boswell  is  not  only  the  first,  but 
incomparably  the  first.  From  the  start,  therefore,  the  reader  is 
assured  that  the  subject  is  worthy  of  his  attention  ;  and  that  this 
thought  may  be  forcible,  no  other  idea  is  admitted  into  the  para- 
graph. 

Now  comes  the  first  of  a  series  of  paradoxes  :  this  greatest  of 
books  was  written  by  the  smallest  of  men.  Boswell  was  thor- 
oughly contemptible.  He  had  a  mean  and  feeble  intellect.  He 
was  a  bore,  a  laugliing-stock,  a  lick-spittle.  He  was  so  stupid  as 
to  exult  in  the  ridicule  heaped  upon  him.  He  was  sendle,  imper- 
tinent, shallow,  pedantic,  snobbish,  childishly  vain.  His  weak  and 
diseased  mind  made  him  conceitedly  ostentatious  of  what  every 
other  man  that  ever  lived  would  have  liidden. 

Two  pages  having  thus  been  devoted  to  Boswell's  character  as 
a  man,  and  that  impression  haring  been  distinctly  fixed,  Macaulay 
considers  him  as  an  author.  Men  silly  in  private  life  have  written 
valuable  works,  but  they  did  so  in  spite  of  their  weaknesses.  Bos- 
well's book  is  valuable  because  of  his  weaknesses.  If  he  had  not 
been  a  great  fool  he  would  never  have  been  a  great  writer.  It  is 
because  he  had  no  ^elicacy  or  shame  or  common-sense,  that  he  has 
surpassed  Tacitus,  and  even  Johnson  himself. 

This  second  paradox  ha\dng  been  stated  and  impressed,  Macau- 
lay  specifies.  Logic,  eloquence,  wit,  taste,  all  that  most  widters 
rely  upon  for  fame,  he  had  nothing  of.  His  positive  qualifications 
were  only  two,  obsen^ation  and  memoi*y.  Had  he  been  a  man  of 
sense  and  virtue  these  would  have  left  him  a  commonplace  man  ; 
but  because  he  was  a  dunce,  a  parasite,  and  a  coxcomb,  they  have 
made  him  immortal.  This  thii'd  paradox  having  been  illustrated, 
we  come  to  a  fourth,  that  the  most  worthless  parts  of  his  book  are 
the  most  delightful.     Then  comes  a  fifth,  that  in  proportion  to  the 


Chap.  XIII.]  SOCIABILITY   UNAPPRECIATED.  253 

celebrity  of  the  book  is  the  degradation  of  the  anthor.  In  fine, 
we  have  a  man  whose  weakness  made  him  great,  and  whose  great- 
ness made  him  contemptible. 

DBSCBIBma  THE  WEATHEB. 

Fftirly  In  the  nwd,  a  man  oame  and  aat  down  in  front  of  me,  and  turned  aroond  and 
faced  me: 

"  Cold,  this  momin\*'  he  Mid. 

I  fcdded  my  Enquirer  wherein  I  had  been  enjoying  Criswill,  and  fanned  myself  with 
it  Tigorooaly  a  moment  or  two  before  I  replied.  Then  I  unbuttoned  my  coat  ("  private 
to  editors :  "  it  was  originally  a  three-buttoned  coivt,  but  the  exigencies  of  the  season,  the 
long  absence  from  home,  and  the  neceiwity  of  dropping  something  into  the  contribution 
basket  every  time  I  go  to  church  has  reduced  it  to  the  minimum  of  one),  wiped  my  frigid 
brow  with  my  handkerchief,  and  said  in  panting  tones : 

"  I  don't  find  it  so." 

The  man  looked  astonished.    But  presently  said : 

*'  Maybe  you've  been  a  runner  ?  ^ 

'*  No,"  I  replied.     "  I  have  been  asleep  for  the  past  two  hours  in  a  sleigh.** 

"  And  ye  didn't  feel  odd  ?  "  the  man  inquired. 

"  Man  !  "  I  said,  in  tones  of  amaxement,  " cold,  on  the  9th  of  June?  " 

"June  ?  "  he  echoed,  straightening  up,  "  are  you  crazy  ?    It's  the  9th  of  January  1  ** 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  it  felt  like  the  9th  of  June  to  me." 

"It's  mighty  fine  sleighin',  all  the  same,'*  he  said. 

I  told  him,  without  a  blush,  that  I  had  never  seen  the  mud  worse  on  Ohio  roads  sine* 
I  oould  rememlier. 

'■  Wbere  on  earth,"  he  asked,  in  utter  astonishment,  "  did  you  come  from  ?  '* 

"  Dayton,"  I  said. 

Bis  eyes  began  to  creep  out  and  look  at  each  other  over  the  top  of  his  noaa. 

** When?**  he  asked. 

"  This  morning.'*  I  sMtd  calmly,  "  since  eight  o'clock.'* 

"  How  r  "  be  fairly  shouted. 

*'  In  a  one-horse  sleigh,"  I  said. 

"Sakas  alive  I"  he  shrieked  *' It  is  impossible.  It's  only  eleven  o'clock  now,  and 
Dayton  is  flfty-flve  miles  away ! " 

"Oooldnt  help  it,**  I  inslstad.  "  I  left  there  a  littie  over  two  hours  ago  in  a  sleigh, 
had  a  poor  horse,  drove  slowly,  and  the  mud  was  up  to  the  hubs  of  the  wheels  all  the  way. 
It  was  as  warm  as  May,  and  I  hadn't  seen  snow  enough  to  maM  a  one-boy  slide  in  6,000 


The  man's  hair  stood  on  end,  and  he  got  up  to  start  off  for  the  other  end  of  the  car. 

"  If  you  ain't  crasy,  and  I  bdieva  yon  be,"  he  said,  with  grave  earnestness,  '*yon  are 
an  awful  liar." 

"  Good  man,"  I  said,  "  I  expect  I  am,  but  I  am  not  a  fool.  I  may  tell  startling  Ilea, 
bot  I  do  not  talk  like  an  ass,  and  I  would  be  thought  a  liar  or  a  manuuj  nubsr  than  an 
ImbaoUa.  I  do  not  come  into  a  car  where  the  thermometer  marks  three  degrees  bdow 
Mco,  and  tall  a  living,  breathing,  intelligent,  sensitlva  man  that  it  is  cold,  just  as  though 
I  was  imparting  some  informatioo  to  him.  I  do  not  watch  him  drive  up  to  the  train  in  a 
risigh.  spinning  over  the  dry,  erlsp  snow,  on  the  smooth,  perfect  pUcss  of  Ohio,  and  then 
attempt  to  instruct,  amuse,  or  startle  him  by  telling  him  tha  riaighlag  is  good.  I  would 
nthar  sstnnisli  a  man  than  bora  him.     If  I  have  nothing  better  to  tall  him  than  some- 


264  DESCRIPTION.  [Part  III. 

thing  he  knows  alreedy,  far  lieticr  tlian  I  da,  my  moath  is  HeAled,  aiid  I  nill  never  speak. 
In  order  to  astonish  him  or  startle  him  I  may  have  to  lie  to  him,  but  that  is  better  than 
boring  him.  You  might  as  well  dt  down  and  tell  me  that  twice  two  is  four,  as  to  tell  me 
that  it  is  cold.  You  might  as  wdl  tell  me  that  Qeotge  Washington  is  <lead,  as  to  tell  me  the 
■leighing  is  good.  Oo  away,  good  man,  go  to  sleep.  I  tell  you  it  is  June,  there  is  no  snow ; 
there  is  dust  and  there  are  nxwa.  It  is  two  hundred  miks  from  Daytun  to  Loveland, 
and  I  walked  from  the  north  |>ule  this  morning.  0«,  get  thee  to  a  nunnery,  and  when 
you  can  model  ynur  ctiiivcrKation  un  Homething  besides  the  United  States  signal  service 
reports,  oome  and  wake  mc  np  and  hold  me  in  the  matchless  charm  of  your  instructive 
talk.  I  know  not  what  course  others  may  take,  but  as  for  me,  perish  the  man  who  talks 
to  me  aboat  the  weather." 

And  straightway  the  man  ariz  and  got  him  unto  the  after  wood-box,  for  he  was  sore 
Mtooished.  And  as  I  fell  into  a  slumber  the  forgotten  dreams  of  which  contain  mon 
ImI,  Talnable  informatiun  than  that  man  overdid  or  ever  will  know,  I  heard  him  opening 
a  conversation  with  the  taciturn  brakeman  by  remarking : 

**  Oold,  this  momin*  I  ^—Burlington  Hawkty, 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


ALLIED  TO  NARRATION,  p.  243, 
THREE  ELEMENTS,  p.  243. 
Classification,  p.  243, 
Particular  features,  p.  243. 
Reflections,  p.  244. 

Analyses  from  Dalgleish,  p.  244. 
DESCRIBE  WHAT  YOU  HAVE  SEEN,  p.  244. 
The  personal  element,  p.  245. 
Candor  essential,  p.  247. 
Note  feelings  as  well  as  facts,  p.  248. 
Description  of  familiar  objects  most  enjoyable,  p.  248. 

HOW  TO  DESCRIBE. 
Be  specific,  p.  249. 
Fill  in  the  picture,  p.  250. 
Heed  the  perspective,  p.  251. 
Build  up  the  picture  steadily  and  systematically,  p.  251. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PUNCTUATION. 

The  UM  of  oomnuM,  aemiooloas  and  braofcato  aappUec  the  place  of  inflection^  and  en- 
•iblea  oa  to  introdnoe,  without  dangwr  of  eqahrooatioii,  qaalifloation«,  illuetratious,  and 
IMurenthetical  limitationa,  whk^  with  ao  EngUah  ayntax,  would  render  a  long  period  al- 
VDOrt  unintelligible  unleee  ita  member*  were  divided  bjr  marks  of  ponctuatlon.— Mabsh. 

I.    ABSOLUTE  RULES. 

Some  Rules  Arbitrary. — There  is  among  authors 
uf  repute  so  luueli  diversity  of  usage  that  it  is  sometiiries 
asserted  there  are  no  absolute  rales  for  punctuation.  This 
is  a  mistake.  While  many  of  the  minor  uses  of  the 
points,  particularly  of  the  comma,  are  left  to  the  judg- 
ment and  tlie  taste  of  the  writer,  there  are  certain  rules 
of  punctuation  that  are  fixed.  To  violate  these  shows, 
not  peculiarity  of  taste,  but  ignorance.  One  might  as 
well  write, 

Phlow  sophtly  phlow,  bi  lorn  and  lee, 

as  to  omit  the  interrogation  point  at  the  end  of  a  question. 

It  is  a  matter,  not  of  judgment,  but  of  education. 

The  most  important  of  these  rules  are  the  following : 
I.  Every    Sentence  must    have  at   the  End 

one  of  these  three  marks : 

a.  If  the  sentence  asks  a  question,  an  interrogation 
point  (?). 

b.  If  the  sentence  is  exclamatory,  an  exclamation 
point  (!). 


Ohap.  XIV.]  USES  OP  THE  PERIOD.  257 

c.  Otherwise,  a  period  (.). 

a.  Rosalind, — What  did  he  when  thou  saw'st  him  ?  Wliat  said 
he  ?  How  looked  he  ?  Wherein  went  he  ?  What  makes  he  here  ? 
Did  he  ask  for  me  ?  Where  remains  he  ?  How  parted  he  with 
thee?  and  when  shalt  thou  see  him  again  ? — -4s  You  Like  It. 

Art  thou  a  pen,  whose  task  shall  be 

To  druwu  in  ink 

What  writers  think  ? 

Oh,  wisely  write, 

That  pages  white 
Be  not  the  worse  for  ink  and  thee. — E.  L.  Bebbs. 

Cast  the  following  sentences  into  the  interrogative  form : — 

This  in  not  the  character  of  British  justice.  These  are  not  her  features.  This  is  not 
her  ooontenanoe.  This  Is  not  her  gait  or  mien.  No !— We  wait  till  to-morrow  to  be 
haiipy ;  there  is  no  reason  for  not  being  so  to-day.  We  shall  not  be  younger.  We  are  not 
sore  we  shall  be  healthier.  Our  passions  will  not  become  feebler,  and  our  love  of  the 
world  lena.— It  was  not  chance  that  produced  the  diurnal  and  annual  revolution  of  the 
globe. 

1.  When  a  sentence  contains  several  interrogative  clauses  that 
have  a  common  relation  or  dependence,  the  interrogation  point  is 
put  only  at  the  end  ; 


By  sensational  pr(>aching  do  yon  mean  nn  incoherent  raving  about  things  in  general 
and  nothing  in  particular ;  a  perveraiun  of  every  text ;  an  insult  of  common  sense  ;  a  re- 
cital of  anecdotes  which  are  nntnie,  and  a  use  of  illustrations  which  are  unmeaning  f 

I  am  a  Jew  :  hath  not  a  Jew  eyes  ?  hath  not  a  Jew  liands,  organs,  ilimen-uions,  senses, 
aABCtioBS,  paaslofMit  fed  with  the  same  food,  hnrt  with  the  same  weapons,  subject  to 
Um  saoM  aisiasis,  healed  I7  the  same  means,  warmed  and  oodetl  by  the  name  winter  and 
sonuner,  as  a  Ohrlatlan  is  ?— JVereAoiU  «(f  Yemkse. 

2.  An  assertion  stating  a  question,  does  not  take  an  interroga- 
tion ]>oint ;  as,  "I  asked  the  question,  What  weapons  were  in 
poSHcssiou  of  the  prisoner." 

Sometimes,  however,  as  in  the  second  paragraph  on  page  74, 
an  interrogation  mark  indicates  a  deferent,  suppliant  air  on  the 
part  of  the  Hjx^aker. 

b.  Convocation  without  intrigue  !  Parliament  without  debate  I 
What  a  lesson  dost  thou  read  to  council  and  consistory  !— Lamb. 

O  many  a  shaft,  at  rand«n  sent, 

Finds  mark  the  ardter  nerer  meant ! 

And  many  a  word,  at  random  spoke, 

Maj  wotha  or  woond  a  iiMrt  thaTi  took*.— 80OTT. 


258  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  III. 

Gast  the  following  sentences  into  the  exclamatory  form : — 

I  look  round  with  jojf  ul  amotion  and  see  the  be>atiM  of  craatkm.  The  tints  aire 
lovely.  Their  oorobinAtitm  ia  pleating.  The  divenity  of  ahadee  ia  admirable.  In  one 
■pot  there  is  delicacy  of  color ;  in  another  brilliancy. 

3.  The  exclamation  point  is  used  also  after  interjections,  ex- 
clamatory words,  and  phrases.    Also  in  invocations  ;  as — 

Father  of  all  1  in  ererj  age  adored. 

O  GrmTe  I  where  is  thy  Tictory  f 
O  Death !  where  is  thy  sting? 

Perhaps  the  greatest  lesson  which  the  Utos  of  literary  men  teach  ns  is  told  in  a  single 
WOTd:  Wait !— LoKarxLLOw. 

See  illustrations  on  pages  88,  89,  103,  141,  175,  223,  229,  240. 

4.  Two  or  more  exclamation  points  are  sometimes  used  to  ex- 
press ridicule,  or  to  intensify  surprise ;  as — 

Malherbe  obaenred,  that  a  good  poet  was  of  no  more  senrioe  to  the  Chorch  or  the  State 
than  a  good  player  cU  ninepins  !  ! 

It  is,  however,  usually  considered  in  better  taste  to  leave  the 
reader  to  discover  for  himself  that  the  author  considers  the  idea 
preposterous.     (See  pages  112,  124^ 

II.  A  Period  must  also  be  used : 

a.  After  every  abbreviation ;  as,  A.  Lincoln ;  Aug.  6 ; 
4:30  P.M. 

5.  If  two  letters  are  used,  or  two  separate  words,  a  period  is 
put  after  each  ;  as,  A.M.,  i.e.,  e.g.,  etc. 

6.  The  period  thus  used  indicates  only  the  abbreviation,  and 
does  not  dispense  with  other  punctuation  marks  required  except 
at  the  end  of  a  sentence,  where  a  period  is  not  repeated.  Thus, 
Groton,  Mass.,  Aug.  28,  1847.  Did  he  travel  incog.  ?  Before  his 
name  he  wrote  with  a  flourish,  "  Prof." 

b.  After  every  Roman  numeral,  except  in  paging ;  as, 
The  reign  of  George  III.  was  ended. 

Find  illustrations  on  page  238. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE  APOSTROPHE.  259 

c.  To  denote  omission  in  a  quotation  ;  as,  He  writes : 
"  Unless  1  hear  from  you  ...  I  shall  start  on  Mon- 
day." 

Find  examples  on  pages  46,  85,  122,  124,  153. 

7.  When  part  of  a  sentence  is  omitted,  it  is  customary  to  use 
three  periods ;  if  a  whole  sentence  or  more  is  omitted,  to  use  four 
or  more. 

d.  Before  decimals;  as,  3.14159;  $36.83;  .0087. 

8.  Where  the  number  is  less  than  a  unit,  the  accompanying 
word  should  be  in  the  singular.     Thus,  2.467  miles;  but  .896 mife. 

III.  An  Apostrophe  (')  must  be  used  : 

a.  To  indicate  the  possessive  case ;  as,  John's,  men's, 
horses'  feet. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  78,  140,  183. 

Note. — When  the  possessive  is  modified,  the  apostrophe  is 
given  to  only  one  word ;  which  is, 

(a)  When  the  possessive  phrase  precedes  the  object,  the  Ui^ 
word. 

(&)  When  the  possessive  phrase  follows  the  object,  the  prin- 
cipal  word.     Thus : 

(a)  William  the  emperor's  jmlace  ;  the  empress  Carlotta's  brace- 
let. 

(b)  The  palace  was  William's,  the  emperor ;  He  said  the  brace- 
let was  Carlotta's,  the  empress ;  I  got  the  book  at  Tonson's ;  an 
old  established  bookseller,  and  the  publisher  of  many  valuable 
works. 

In  the  first  two  examples,  some  would  regard  the  possessive 
phrase  as  a  compound  name,  and  write,  "  The  palace  was  William 
the  emperor's,"  "the  bracelet  was  Carlotta  the  empress's." 

On  the  other  hand,  some  would  give  the  ajxistrophe  to  the  prin- 
cipal word,  even  when  the  possessive  phrase  precedes  ; 

—"W.  n.  M,"  Santuciei,  begn  leave  to  diannt  from  oar optnioii,  czpranetl  in  Um 
March  number  of  this  paper,  that  Um  phraM,  "  H«r  amda'n,  Swvaant  Oolton,  bebarior,*' 
ia  grammatioallj  oorrtot,  thooffh  not  alagani.  He  does  **  not  onderatand  why  it  is  qoita 
nnieeii— fj  to  pat  Ooltoo  in  Um  poMHilTe  fonn,**  and  prooceda  to  laj : 


2^)0  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  IIL 

"  At  the  wordf  *  SeiBeaiit  Oolton  *  are  exidanatory,  they  are  in  apposition  with  '  her 
uncle's,'  and  must  be  parsed  as  in  the  aame  case.  Indeed,  does  not  the  leading  word,  in 
all  such  sentences,  determine  the  case  of  the  other  t  Such  expressions  as  thi  ^  do  not  often 
occur  in  print,  as  we  all  agree  that  it  is  better  to  torn  the  phiase  and  insert  the  prep- 
osition :  but  here  is  a  form  which  is  common  enough  :  '  Smith  aslit^  Brown  to  hand  him 
his  (Brown'R)  hat.'  Here  the  word  '  Brown's,*  iM  parenthetical,  or  r>xplnnatory.  It  takes 
ttie  pow>ciii>ivc  form  because  in  apposition  with  the  posMMnive  pronoun  '  his.*  Surolj  you 
would  not  URe  It  thus,— *  His  (Brown)  hat.'  " 

Our  oorroNpondvnt'a  tUnatxation  of  Smith  and  Brown  is  not  qnite  apposite.  The  word 
"  Brown'** '*  in  not  deerriptive  merely,  but  dintinctiTe  ;  it  in  alMolutely  neoessary  to  uoe  it 
to  indicate  the  owner  of  the  hat.  Colton,  on  the  contrary,  is  merely  deiicriptive,  show- 
ing who  "  her  uncle  **  is ;  and  the  seBtanoe  is  eqaivalent  to  "  her  uncle's— Sergeant  Cul- 
ton,  I  mean— behavior."  We  moat  adhere  to  oar  original  opinion  that  the  phrase  is  cor- 
rect ;  but  we  w^onld  not  a>Wiae  any  one  to  imitite  it.  Take  thin  Hcntenco,  fur  example : 
*'  The  oflloer*8— Captain  Deane— bearing  was  gallant  and  easy  ;  the  magiRtntc'E — Justice 
Coke — timid  and  emtwrraswd."  Now,  we  ask  oar  oorremxmdent  if  this  fientence  is  not 
strictly  grammatii»l  ?  The  dashes  are  in  effect  parcnthesea;  and  the  addition  of  «  with 
an  aportropbe  to  each  of  the  two  proper  names  woold  make  it  sound  very  nnpleasanthf^— 
2^  Ob$erv€r.  {^ 

For  suggestions  as  to  aToiding  these  cumbrous  fonns,  see  Part  I. 

9.  Plural  nouns  ending  in  s  take  only  the  apostrophe ;  all 
other  nouns  take  the  apostrophe  and  8.  Thus,  calves'  heads ; 
Agnes's  hat ;  oxen's  hoofs. 

Note.— In  proper  names  ending  with  «,  this  rule  is  so  often  violated  that  the  custom 
has  developed  Into  a  certain  authority,  until  it  may  be  oonsidered  a  matter  of  taste 
whether  we  shall  write  "  Barnes'  Arithmetics  *'  or  *'  Barnes's  Arithmetics."  But  the  for- 
mer practice  will  always  be  questionable.  Bigelow  says : — "  The  possessive  case,  like  the 
plural  number,  always  makes  an  additional  syllable  where  the  nominative  ends  with  the 
sound  of  8,  and  the  plural  syllable  might  as  well  be  elided  as  that  of  the  possessive.  We 
should  not  think  of  saying  '  In  the  t«me  of  the  Charles,'  and  there  is  no  more  reason  for 
saying  'The  Charles*  times.'  The  proper  way  to  avoid  a  harsh  or  hissing  sound  is  to 
reform  the  sentence." 

It  is  sometimes  difficult  to  determine  whether  a  possessive 
should  be  singular  or  plural. 

The  superintendent  of  a  home  for  boys  in  San  Francisco,  having  named  it  the  Youths' 
Directory,  was  overwhelmed  by  local  grammarians  with  protestations  ajrainst  the  location 
of  the  apostrophe  in  the  word  "  youths."  He  thereupon  wrote  to  twenty  learned  authori- 
ties, in  various  parts  of  the  United  States,  to  settle  the  question  beyond  dispute ;  but  they 
differed  not  less  than  the  Pacific  coast  sages.  President  Barnard  of  Columbia  CoUege, 
Pre.^ident  Eliot  of  Harvard,  George  P.  Quackenbos,  the  author  of  books  on  rhetoric,  etc., 
Prof.  Scheie  de  Vere  of  the  University  of  Virginia,  Chancellor  Crosby  of  the  New  York 
University,  Benj.  W.  Dwight  and  Prof.  W.  D.  Whitnej',  pronounced  "  Youths'  Directory" 
correct  and  "  Yoiith's  Directory"  wrong;  Noah  Porter,  President  of  Yale,  declared 
"  Youth's  Directory  "  correct  and  the  other  wrong,  and  Richard  Grant  White  and  Dr.  Mc- 
Cosh  of  Princeton,  pronounced  both  correct,  while  President  Gilman  of  the  Johns  Hop- 
kins University  sent  a  reply  from  which  it  was  impossible  to  determine  on  which  side  h« 
was.— JV.  r.  Sun. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE  APOSTROPHE.  261 

10.  Certain  Scriptural  phrase.s,  like  "for  conscience'  sake," 
have  become  established  idioms,  and  are  thus  allowed  to  violate 
the  rule. 

11.  The  apostrophe  is  not  used  before  s  in  ours,  yours,  hers, 
theirs,  its. 

b.  To  denote  the  plural  of  figures  and  letters ;  as  p's 
and  q's ;  casting  out  the  9*8. 

The  following  is  less  usual : 

In  T«r«e  18  of  chapter  xiii.  of  Judges.  v«  and  me  are  both  printed  with  a  sinplp  e,  but 
in  Tcne  15  of  the  same  chapter,  each  with  two  e«.— Mabah. 

12.  This  u.sage  is  sometimes  extended  to  words,  where  there  is 
danger  of  ambiguity;  as,  The  children  on  the  shore  are  always 
talking  about  their  pa's  and  their  ma*8.     See  example,  page  292. 

c.  To  denote  elision  : 

(I.)  Of  letters  in  a  word  when  the  abbreviation  is  to 
save  space  or  time  or  rhythm  (compare  VI.  c,  page  266) ; 
as,  confd  for  continued. 

That  opportunity 
Which  then  they  hnd  to  tnko  from  '8,  to  resume 
Wo  have  again.— CorUtltinus. 

13.  Such  elisions  should  be  carefully  distinguished  from  abbre* 
viations  proper,  and  should  not  be  followed  by  a  period. 

Find  illustration  on  jiage  241. 

(II.)  Of  syllables,  or  even  of  words;  as,  'midst  for 
amidst ;  IVe  for  I  have ;  'twas  for  it  was ;  'faith  for  in 
faith;  etc. 

'Faith,  there  have  been  many  great  men  that  have  flattered  the 
people,  who  ne'er  loved  them  ;  and  there  be  many  that  they  have 
loved,  they  knew  not  wherefore :  so  that  if  they  love  they  know 
not  why ;  they  hate  upon  no  better  ground.— rorto^mM5. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  81,  126,  167,  175,  240. 

14.  It  is  a  usual  rule,  though  not  universal,  that  where  two 
words  are  thus  made  into  one,  a  space  should  be  left  between  the 


2563  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  UI. 

words,  as  though  they  were  not  abbreviated.     But  don't,  can't, 
won't,  and  shan't  are  commonly  printed  as  single  words. 

Note,— Be  careful  not  to  uae  don't  in  the  third  person  idngnlar,  for  doe*  n't 

(III.)  Of  the  century  in  dates;  as,  The  spirit  of  '76; 
for  the  years  1883,  '84. 

First  of  November,  'Pifty-flre  I 

This  mominff  tb«  pamon  takes  a  drive.— Holmxs. 

IV.  A  Hyphen  (-)  must  be  used  : 

a.  Between  the  parts  of  a  compound  word  that  has  not 
by  usage  become  a  single  word. 

A  witness  was  on  the  stand  in  an  illegal  liquor  sale  case.  The 
counsel  was  trying  to  find  out  in  what  kind  of  a  glass  the  Uquor 
was  handed  to  the  witness,  and  at  last  exclaimed :  "  Wliat  kind  of 
a  looking  glass  was  it  ?  "  "  Why,  sor,  it  war  not  a  looking-glass  at 
all,  it  war  a  tumbler." 

Correct,  '•  For  sale,  one  large  sick  chair."  "  James  Boyle,  Gas- 
holder and  Boiler-maker." 

15.  This  rule  is  absolute  and  acknowledged,  but  in  practice  it 
is  imperfectly  canded  out  because  of  uncertainty  as  to  which  are 
still  compound  words,  and  which  have  become  single.  In  general 
the  dictionaries  should  be  consulted  as  final  authority,  but  even 
they  do  not  agree. 

Woroesterhas  "brickwork,"  "braaswork,"  without  hyphens;  "  wood- work,"  "iron- 
work." with  them.  "Greenhouse  is  closed  up,  while  "  school -house  "  is  not :  "wood- 
house"  has  a  hyphen,  "almshouse"  has  none.  (Wilson  writes  ".schoolhouse.")  Web- 
ster has  "brickwork"  with,  "woodwork"  without  the  hyphen, — jnst  reversinff 
Worcester.  Again,  Worcester  writes,  "  bumblebee  "  and  "  bumblebee  " :  Webster,  under 
B,  has  "bumble-bee,  ....  sometimes  called  humble-bee;"  and,  under  H,  writes 
"bumblebee,  ....  often  called  bumblebee,"  apparently  forgetful  of  his  previous 
hyphens. 

To  search  for  authority,  then,  in  the  matter  of  compoundinsr  words,  will  avail  next  to 
nothing.  In  a  volume  containing  "  School  Committees''  Reports,"— and  certainly  school 
committees  ought  to  know  many  things, — we  find  "  blackboanl "  and  "  black-board  ;"  and, 
on  a  single  page,  "  sohool  books,"  "  school-keeping,"  "  schoolmaster,"  "  school-houses," 
"  school  checks."  '•  Semi-annual  "  is  frequently  jmiited  with  the  hyphen,  px^cording  to 
Webster  ;  but  Worcester  has  "semiannual." 

Thus  it  appears,  that,  in  regard  to  compounding  (by  which  we  mean  inserting  the 
hyphen  between  the  parts  of  a  compound  word)  the  proof-reader  is  left  to  his  own  dis- 
cretion, and  can  do  very  much  as  he  pleases.    He  should,  however,  adopt  some  method 


Chap.  XIV.]        HYPHEN.— QUOTATION  MARKS.  263 

by  which  he  can  approximate  to  nnifonnity  in  hix  own  work  ;  for  at  to  agreeing  with 
anybody  eUe,  that  is  out  of  the  question. 

Perhaps  as  good  a  rale  as  can  be  la.J  down  on  this  Rubject  is  to  close  up  the  word 
when  compounding  changes  the  accentuation;  otherwise,  insert  the  hyphen.  Thus, 
"  Quartermaster  "  has  a  different  accentuation  from  the  two  words  "  quarter  master ;  " 
therefwe  make  one  word  of  it,  without  the  hypht^n  :  "  Head-aKsistant "  is  accented  like 
the  two  words  "  head  assistant,"— therefore  insert  the  hyphen.  By  this  rule  "t-chool- 
honse"  and  "blackboard''  should  be  severally  closed  up:  "saltmine''  takes  the  hy- 
phen,—" saltaea  "  (adjectiTe)  does  not. 

The  word  "tree,**  with  a  prefix  indicating  the  kind,  should  be  compounded ;  ats 
"oak-tree,'*  "forest-tree,'*  "pine-tree,"  etc.  (Webster  has  "  whlffle-tree,"  Worcester 
"whiffletrae.") 

**  Caat-iroD  "  and  "  wroaght-iron ''  arc  u.«nially  compounded,  and  should  alwi^rs  be  so 
when  nsed  asadjectires ;  as,  "  cast-iron  pillars,"  "  wrought-iron  boilers." 

" Temide-atreet  place"  (or  "Place,"  according  to  style),  "Suffolk-street  District," 
'•  Pembnton-sqaare  School,"  are  quite  correct.  The  hyphen  is  too  frequently  omitted  in 
-Drkw. 


Explain  the  uses  of  the  hyphen  on  i)ages  22,  142,  146,  174,  175, 
224. 

b.  At  the  end  of  a  line,  when  one  or  more  syllables  of 
the  last  word  are  written  upon  the  following  line. 

16.  Care  must  be  taken  to  divide  a  word  only  by  syllables. 
Thus,  chil-dren,  not  child-ren  or  chi-ldren. 

c.  To  unite  a  prefix  ending  with  a  vowel  to  a  word  be- 
ginning with  a  vowel ;  as,  co-operate,  re-adniit. 

17.  Instead  of  the  hyphen,  a  diaeresis  (*)  is  sometimes 
placed  over  the  second  vowel ;  as,  cooperate,  readmit.  Here  the 
hyphen  is  preferable ;  but  the  diaeresis  must  be  used  where,  in 
words  not  compound,  the  o  is  repeated  and  forms  a  separate  syl- 
lable ;  as,  Laoco^n,  zoology. 

V.  Quotation  Marks  (<'  ")  must  be  used  : 

a.  To  enclose  a  quotation  from  another,  when  given  in 
his  exact  words ;  as,  John  said,  "  I  yrill  come  soon.  ^ 
Portia  began  thus : 

"  The  quality  of  mcroy  is  not  strained.** 

Some  said,  "  John,  print  it,**  others  said,  "  Not  so.** 

I  said,  "  It  might  do  good,**  otlMts  said,  "  No.**— Btnnuii. 


264  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  HI. 

18.  When  the  quotation  is  not  exact,  but  only  in  substance,  no 
marks  are  needed  ;  as,  John  said  that  he  would  come  soon ;  Portia 
began  by  saying  that  the  quality  of  mercy  is  not  strained. 

19.  When  the  quotation  ends  the  sentence,  the  marks  are  often 
omitted,  the  beginning  capital  showing  where  the  quotation  be- 
gins.    Thus  : 

I  knew  once  •  very  ooraCooi,  Kwdid  fellow,  who  used  to  say.  Take  oare  of  the  pence ; 
for  the  ponndi  will  take  oare  of  themaelrea.— Chkbtssfixu). 

20.  If  the  quotation  consists  of  two  or  more  paragraphs,  double 
marks  are  placed  at  the  beginning  of  each  paragraph,  but  at  the 
end  only  of  the  last.     Thus  : 

In  his  addreu  to  the  yonng  ladiea,  Dr.  Peabody  nid  : 

*'  The  frame  of  mind  in  wliich  a  yonng  lady  says  in  reply  to  a  question,  '  Mercy !  nn,^ 
is  Tcry  different  from  that  which  prompts  the  Rimple,  modest  *  no.^  Were  there  any 
room  for  doubt,  I  ahould  have  some  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the  former  answer ;  for  the  un- 
natural, excited,  flattering  state  of  mind  implied  in  the  use  of  the  oath  might  indicate 
either  an  unfltneee  to  weigh  the  truth,  or  an  ucnillingncss  to  acknowledge  it. 

**  In  fine,  transparenoy  ia  an  eaacnlial  attribute  of  all  graceful  and  becoming  speech. 
Langnage  ought  to  ezpreea  the  apeaker's  ideas,  and  neither  more  nor  less.  Exclamations, 
needleea  ezpietives.  unmeaning  extravagances,  are  as  untasteful  as  the  streamers  of  tat- 
tered finery  which  you  somatimee  see  fluttering  about  the  person  of  a  dilapidated  belle. 
Let  your  thoughts  be  as  strong,  as  witty,  as  brilliant  as  yon  can  make  them  ;  bnt  never 
seek  to  atone  for  feeble  thought  by  large  words,  or  to  rig  out  foolish  conceits  in  the 
qMuigled  robe  of  genuine  wit." 

See  illustrations  on  pages  88,  89,  98. 

21.  At  the  close  of  a  quotation,  the  quotation  marks  should  en- 
close the  final  punctuation  mark  unless  it  is  either  an  interroga- 
tion or  an  exclamation  point,  in  wliich  case  it  should  come  inside 
the  quotation  marks  if  it  belongs  to  the  quotation,  but  outside  if 
it  belongs  to  the  whole  sentence  and  not  to  the  quotation.     Thus : 

Asked  to  make  an  extempore  pun,  Purcell  inquired,  "On  what  subject?"  "The 
king  "^  was  suggesteil.     "  O  bnt  the  king  is  no  subject  I  "  was  the  quick  reply. 

The  boy  who  told  his  teacher  that  Wa^hingtun  was  the  first  man  replied,  when  the 
teacher  corrected  him  by  saying  that  the  first  man  was  Adam,  "  O  well,  if  you  are  talk- 
ing of  foreigners,  I  suppose  he  was  "  I 

22.  A  quotation  within  a  quotation  has  single  instead  of  double 
quotation  marks.  Should  a  quotation  occur  within  this  quotation, 
it  has  double  marks.     Thus : 

"Just  then  the  minister  interrupted.      '  You  remind  me,'  he  said,    of    the  famous 

'  "  You  have  done  good,  my  lord,  by  stealth ; 
The  rest  is  upon  record.  "  '  " — JErrREY. 


Chap.  XIV.]        QUOTATION  MARKS.— THE  DASH.  265 

Find  iUustrations  on  pages  89,  121,  220,  228,  240. 

23.  Where  quotations  are  frequent,  and  in  complete  paragraphs, 
the  quotation  marks  are  often  omitted,  and  the  name  of  the  author 
is  put  at  the  end,  as  frequently  in  this  volume.  In  such  cases  the 
fact  of  quotation  is  usually  indicated  by  printing  the  part  quoted 
in  smaller  type. 

24.  Quotations  from  foreign  languages  are  usually  printed  in 
italics,  without  quotation  marks.     To  indicate  this  in  writing  we 

tt^ncCei^oie  the  words  of  the  quotation. 


Not  ft  little  mUchlef  has  been  wroaght  by  the  famotui  aentiment,  Honi  soU  qui  tnal 
yptnte. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  51,  52,  58,  66,  76,  83,  98,  117,  127, 
178. 

b.  Usually  to  enclose  titles  of  books ;  but  names  of 
magazines  or  papers  are  more  commonly  printed  in 
italics. 

In  examining  The  AtlantiCy  Nation,  Scrihner's  Monthly,  Har- 
per*8,  AppletorCs  Magazine,  LippincotCs,  Popular  Science  Monthly, 
Galaxy,  Eclectic,  N".  A.  Review,  Netc  Englander,  London  Quarterly » 
British  Quarterly,  Westminster  RemetP,  Edinburgh  Revieit,  Con- 
temporary Review,  TTie  Fortnightly  Review,  we  find  that  thirteen  o^ 
these  use  quotation  marks,  and  four  use  italics,  in  referring  to  the 
titles  of  books  ;  eleven  use  italics,  and  six  use  quotation  marks,  in 
referring  to  magazines  and  papers. — Cocker. 

Explain  the  uses  of  quotation  marks  on  pages  140,  196,  197, 
228,234. 

VI.  The  Dash  ( — )  must  be  used  : 

a.  When  a  sentence  is  broken  off  abruptly,  by  inter- 
niption  or  otherwise.     Thus : 

A  oolond  WM  ono«  oomptoloing  that  from  tho  ifrnoranoe  and  inattantlon  of  hit  ofl- 
eeni  be  was  obUgwl  to  do  the  whote  doty  of  hi*  roKiment  Said  he,  "  I  am  my  own  cap- 
tain, my  own  Uvatenant— "  **Aiid  yoor  own  triim|x>t«r,"  broke  in  a  lady  who  was 
llateninir. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  83.  87.  147. 


266  PUNCTUATION.  [Pabt  IIL 

b.  Where  the  sentence  is  concluded  in  an  emphatic  or 
unexpected  manner,  especially  by  an  epigrammatic  turn. 
Thus: 

Never  try  to  tell  what  you  don't  know ; — life  is  too  short. 

No  one  minds  wliat  Jeffrey  says, — it  is  not  more  than  a  week 
ago  that  I  heard  him  speak  disreepectfidly  of  the  ^uator. — Syd- 
ney Smtth. 

Animals  are  sach  agreeable  friends—they  ask  no  questions, 
they  pass  no  criticisms.— Gboboe  Eijot. 

A  moml,  aensible,  and  well-bred  nuui 

Will  not  affront  me,— «nd  no  other  on.— Cowpkb. 

Every  one  is  as  God  has  made  him — and  oftentimes  a  great 
deal  worse. — Don  Quixote. 

The  pith  of  my  system  is  to  make  the  senses  out  of  the  mind, — 
not  the  mind  out  of  the  senses,  as  Locke  did. — Colebidob. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  72,  75,  85,  108,  238. 

C.  To  show  the  omission  of  part  of  a  word  or  name 
which  one  hesitates  to  write  in  full.     Thus  : 

A  newly  elected  Assemblyman  signed  the  hotel  register  with  a 
flourish.  "I  am  Hon. ,  of ,"  he  pompously  an- 
nounced to  the  clerk. — *'  That  doesn't  make  any  difference,"  was  the 
reply  ;  *'  we'll  treat  you  just  as  well  as  if  you  were  anybody  else." 
Entering  a  lawyer's  office  next  day,  the  legislator  was  invited  to 
take  a  chair  till  the  man  of  law  was  at  leisure.     '*  But,  I  am  Hon. 

,  of ,"  he  remonstrated." — **  Oh,  indeed!    Then 

take  two  chairs." 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  60,  69,  74,  77. 

d.  To  show  faltering,  or  hesitation,  or  stammering. 
Thus : 

Wordsworth  had  boasted  to  Coleridge  that  he  could  write  just 
like  Shaksi>ere  if  he  had  the  mind  to.  "  B-b-but  you  see  that's 
just  the  tr-trouble,"  suggested  Charles  Lamb;  "he  hasn't  the 
m-m-mind," 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  125,  273,  274. 


Chap.  XIV.]  THE  DASH— THE  COMMA.  267 

e.  To  separate  the  speeches  in  a  dialogue,  wlieii  written 
in  the  same  paragraph.     Thus  : 

A  cobbler  at  Leydeu  who  used  to  attend  the  public  disputa 
tions  was  asked  if  he  understood  Latin.  "  No,"  replied  the  fellow, 
"but  I  know  wliich  is  wrong  in  the  argument." — "How?" — 
'•  Why,  by  seeing  which  gets  angry  first." 

f.  To  separate  the  title  from  the  subject  matter,  and  the 
subject-matter  from  the  authority  for  it,  when  both  are 
in  the  same  paragraph.     Thus  : 

Notice  in  a  Hoboken  ferry-boat : — **  The  seats  in  this  cabin  are 
reserved  for  ladies.  Gentlemen  are  requested  not  to  occupy  them 
until  the  ladies  are  seated." 

Few  are  qualified  to  sliine  in  company ;  but  it  is  in  most  men's 
power  to  be  agreeable.  The  reason,  therefore,  why  conversation 
runs  so  low  at  prasent,  is  not  the  defect  of  understanding,  but 
pride,  vanity,  ill-nature,  afiectation,  singularity,  positiveness  or 
some  other  vice,  the  efiect  of  a  \^Tong  education. — Swift. 

g;.  Between  two  numbers,  to  show  that  they  are  the  ex- 
tremes of  a  series  including  the  numbers  given  and  all  the 
intervening  ones ;  as,  pages  245-249  (not  pages  245-49, 
or  245-9),  1776-1876,  1883-84  (not  1883-4). 

For  other  uses  of  the  dash,  see  Note  30,  page  271. 
Explain  the  uses  of  the  dash  on  })ages  14,  15,  24,  32,  3G,  52, 
68,  77,  98,  111,  113,  131,  174,  199,  209,  225,  234,  244. 

NoTB.— An  anforttmste  habit  preraiU  among  some  writrre.  oipecuilly  public  speak- 
era,  of  tuing  only  the  dash  for  paootoation,  and  of  dividing  their  sentunoes  in  uianu- 
•eript  aomewhat  according  to  the  paokm  they  malcA  in  n>tiding  it.  To  the  compositor  or 
to  other  reader*  this  ia  oraally  more  perplexing  than  no  pfinctnation  whaterer.  The 
dash  sboold  be  used  only  where  it  is  preferable  to  other  points. 

VII.  The  Comma  (,)  must  be  used  : 

a.  To  separate  from  the  rest  of  the  sentence  vocative 
expressions — the  names  of  persons  or  things  addressed  : 
Thus : 

I  remain,  sir,  your  obedient  servant. 


268  THE  COMMA  REQUIRED.  [Pabt  III. 

Flow  gently,  sweet  Aftoo,  among  thy  green  braes. 

Devise,  wit ;  write,  pen :  for  I  am  for  whole  Toluines  in  folio. — 
Love's  Labor  Lost. 

A  gentleman,  nurse,  that  loves  to  hear  himself  talk ;  and  will 
speak  more  in  a  minute  than  he  will  stand  to  in  a  month. — Romeo 
and  Juliet. 

Fletcher,  bishop  of  Nismes,  was  the  son  of  a  tallow-chandler. 
A  great  duke  endeavored  to  mortify  the  prelate  by  saying  to  him 
at  the  king's  levee  that  he  smelt  of  tallow.  To  which  the  bisho]) 
replied,  "  My  lord,  it  is  true  I  am  the  son  of  a  chandler ;  and  if 
your  lordship  had  been  the  same  you  would  have  remained  a 
chandler  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

25.  "When  strong  emotion  is  expressed,  an  exclamation  point  is 
sometimes  required.     Thus : 

O  Hamlet !  thoa  tuMt  deft  my  heart  in  twain.— Shakspxsk. 

Go,  wondrous  creatore !  moont  where  ncience  guides ; 
Oo,  measure  earth,  weigh  air,  and  state  the  tidee.— Pops. 

Dear  authors  !  suit  ycur  topics  to  your  strength. 

And  ponder  well  your  subject,  and  itA  length  ; 

Nor  lift  your  load,  before  you're  quite  aware 

What  weight  your  shoulders  will,  or  will  not,  bear.— Btbom. 

Find  illustration  on  page  78. 

b.  To  separate  from  each  other  words  of  tlie  same  part 
of  speech  and  in  the  same  construction  : 

(i.)  When  not  connected  by  conjunctions,  always ;  as, 
A  still,  small  voice. 

26.  When  two  adjectives  come  together,  the  second  qiialifWug 
the  noun,  and  the  first  qualifying  the  noun  as  thus  qualified  by  the 
second,  the  two  adjectives  are  not  in  the  same  construction,  and 
take  no  comma  between  them;  as,  A  spirited  gray  horse ;  He  was 
a  brave,  honest,  and  good  old  man. 

Note. — When  the  first  adjective  modifies  the  second,  a  hyphen  should  connect  them ; 
as,  a  red-hot  stove. 

27.  The  second  and  succeeding  words  take  commas  after  as 
well  as  before  them : 

o.  When  the  same  word  is  repeated  for  emphasis ;  as,  Verily, 
verily,  I  say  unto  you. 


(HAP.  XIV.]     WORDS   IN   THE  SAME  CONSTRUCTION.         269 

Water,  water,  everywhere, 

Nor  any  drop  to  drink.— COLKRIDOK. 

Alone,  alone,  all,  all  alone. 

Alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea.— CoLKBiDaK. 
Fll  give  my  jewels  for  a  net  of  beads ; 
My  gorgeoat  palace  for  a  hermitage ; 
My  gay  apparel,  for  an  almsman's  gown ; 
My  figured  goblets,  for  a  dish  of  wood ; 
My  noeptre,  for  a  palmer's  walking-staff ; 
My  Bobjectft,  for  a  pair  of  carved  saints ; 
And  my  large  kingdom,  for  a  little  grave, 
A  little,  little  grave,— an  obscure  grave.— /UcAord  //. 

The  living  man  who  does  not  learn,  is  dark,  dark,  like  one 
walking  in  the  night. — Ming  Sum  Paou  ELeen. 
Find  illustrations  on  pages  74,  106. 

NoTB.— A  word  repeated,  even  with  a  conjunction,  sometimes  requires  ■eparatlon, 
that  it  may  be  more  dwelt  upon.    Thus : 

One  may  smile,  and  »mile,  and  be  a  villain.— ifam/et. 

/?.  When  the  words  are  nouns  used  as  the  subjects  of  a  verb ; 
M,  Expostulation,  indignation,  were  powerless. 

Misuke,  error,  is  the  discipline  through  which  we  advance. — Chamnino. 

(11.)  When  connected  by  conjunctions  only: 
«.  When  the  words  are  more  than  two  in  number ;  as, 
The  deed  was  done  nobly,  bravely,  and  modestly. 

To  quote  copiously  and  well,  requires  taste,  judgment,  and  eru- 
dition, a  feeling  for  the  beautiful,  an  appreciation  of  the  noble, 
and  a  sense  of  the  profound. — Boveb. 

28.  The  comma  is  often,  but  erroneously,  omitted  before  the 
conjunction  connecting  the  last  two  words  of  the  series.  This 
leads  to  ambiguity.     For  example : 

Tb«  following  boata  have  arrived :  Sylph,  Mary  and  Agnei,  Swan,  Star  and  Oreaocnt. 

Now,  have  four  boats  come  in,  or  five?  If  the  rule  is  fol- 
lowed, the  name  of  the  last  boat  is  "  Star  and  Crescent ;  "  but  if 
the  writer's  punctuation  is  not  to  be  dei)ended  ui)on,  we  cannot  tell 
from  the  sentence  as  written  whether  this  is  the  case,  or  whether 
be  is  speaking  of  two  boats,  the  '♦  Star  "  and  the  •*  Orescent." 

Mary,  Uatai  mod  JtUia  have  oona. 


270  THE  COMMA   REQUIRED.  [Part  IIL 

Does  the  writer  mean  that  three  girls  have  come,  or  is  he  tell- 
ing Mary  that  two  girls  have  come  ? 

29.  When  the  conjunction  is  re]3eated  l>efore  each  word  of  the 
series,  the  commas  may  be  omitted  when  the  words  rather  expand 
a  common  idea  than  introduce  new  ones.  The  more  emphasis 
there  is  upon  the  individual  words  of  the  series,  the  more  need 
there  is  for  commas. 

Hill  gives  an  excellent  illustration  of  this  point : 

And  feeling  all  along  the  garden  wall. 

Lest  he  ahoold  swoon  and  tumble  and  be  foond, 

Orept  to  the  gate,  and  opened  it,  and  dosed. 

p.  When  one  of  the  words  has  qualifiers  that  do  not 
apply  also  to  the  others ;  as,  lie  is  entitled  to  take  the  an- 
nual crops,  and  wood  for  fuel. 

Correct,  Furs  and  [the]  gold-dust  which  the  natives  collect 
from  the  sands  of  the  river. — Hue. 

There  is  a  tendency  to  confound  concepts  and  no  unanimity  as 
to  what  rhetoric  and  its  province  may  be. — P.  A.  Halpin. 

7.  When  the  words  are  contrasted,  or  emphatically  dis- 
tinguished.    Thus, 

Though  deep,  yet  clear ;  though  gentle,  yet  not  dull ; 
Strong,  without  rage ;  without  overflowing,  f  ulL 

Wit  is  the  salt  of  conversation,  not  the  food. — Hazmtt. 

c.  To  separate  pairs  of  words  joined  by  conjunctions ; 
as,  Sink  or  swim,  live  or  die,  survive  or  perish,  I  give  my 
hand  and  my  heart  to  this  vote. 

Find  illustration  on  page  216. 

d.  To  separate  from  the  rest  of  the  sentence  words  and 
phrases  used  in  apposition,  except  general  titles  and  appel- 
lations ;  as.  He  left  one  son,  Thomas. 

Time,  the  great  destroyer  of  other  men's  happiness,  only  en- 
larges the  patrimony  of  litei-ature  to  its  possessor. — I.  Disraeli. 
My  ci\'ic  and  poetical  compliments  to  Sou  they  if  at  Bristol ; — 


Chap.  XIV.]  PARENTHETICAL   REMARKS.  271 

why,  he  is  the  very  Leviathan  of  bards — the  small  minnow,  I. — 
Chables  Lamb. 

30.  Sometimes  a  dash  shows  more  unmistakably  that  the  con- 
struction is  appositive  ;  as,  This  point  represents  a  second  thought 
— an  emendation.  See  another  illustration  in  VII.  a.,  above, 
page  268.     Find  otheni  on  pages  128,  141,  lU. 

Honor  to  the  men  who  bring  honor  to  ub,  glory  to  the  country,  dignity  to  character, 
release  from  vacuity,  wings  to  thought,  knowledge  of  things,  precision  to  principles, 
to  feeling,  happiness  to  the  fireside— authors.— Bovei. 


31.  Where  the  appositive  expression  is  restrictive,  no  comma  is 
used;  as,  "Enoch  Arden"  was  written  by  the  poet  Tennyson; 
Ir\'ing  lived  on  the  river  Hudson. 

32.  Although  a  general  title,  if  the  appositive  is  modified  it  is 
preceded  by  a  comma.  Thus,  Cicero  the  orator ;  but,  Cicero,  the 
greatest  of  Roman  orators. 

e.  To  separate  from  the  rest  of  the  sentence  parentheti- 
cal remarks. 

The  word  "parenthesis"  {napd  iv  rifStvat)  means  side-insertion^ 
and  is  used  of  a  word  or  phra.se  inserted  by  way  of  comment  or  ex- 
planation in  a  sentence  complete  without  it.  This  disconnection 
is  more  definitely  shown  by  the  use  of  parentheses  [  (  )  ]  or  of 
brackets  { [  ]  )•  But  the  modem  tendency  is  to  make  punctuation 
as  littlo  obtrusive  as  jmssible,  and  in  many  cases  the  relation  is 
shown  with  sufficient  dofiniteness  by  commas,  or  by  da.shes.  In- 
deed, it  is  not  always  ea.sy  to  decide  whether  a  phra-se  is  parenthet- 
ical, or  simply  explanator).  The  following  illustrations  will  indi- 
cate which  of  the  four  ]>oints  should  bo  used  in  given  cases. 

(Is)   The  cuijiiua  iintil. 

It  w•^  u  Henry  said,  a  shame  to  impose  upon  him. 

The  taaefol  Nine,  so  mered  legends  tell, 

Flrrt  waked  their  benvenly  lyre  these  scenes  to  tell.— OAirrBnx.. 

33.  Some  other  point  should  be  preferred  when  the  parenthet- 
ical phrase  is  itself  divided  by  commas,     llius  : 

For  all  of  na,-- that  U,  Julm,  atiJ  Miria.  nn.l  I— arc  agreed  that  it  is  best  to 


272  THE  COMMA  REQUIRED.  [Part  III. 

34.  Nor  can  commas  be  used  when  the  parenthetical  phrase  re- 
quires a  mai'k  of  exclamation  or  interrogation.     Thus  : 

SpiU  not  the  moming  (the  qnlnicMenoe  of  the  day  !)  in  recreations.— Fullsb. 

(II.)  The  dash  used. 

Word*  are  wise  men's  oonnters— they  do  not  reckon  by  them— bat  they  are  the  money 

of  fools.— HOBBBS. 

Our  country— whether  bounded  by  the  St.  J<^n*s  and  the  Sabine,  or  however  other- 
wise boimded  and  described,  and  be  the  measnrements  monor  leas; — still  our  country, 
to  be  cherished  in  aU  oar  hearts,  to  be  defended  by  all  oar  hands.— Robebt  C.  Wintbbop. 

It  contained  a  warrant  for  condaotinf  me  and  my  retinae  to  Traldragdubb  or  Tril- 
drogdrib,  for  it  is  inronoanoed  both  ways,  as  near  as  I  can  remember,  by  a  party  of  ten 
horse.— Swnr. 

Here  dashes  after  "  Trildrogdrib  "  and  "  remember"  would  re- 
move the  ambiguity  of  the  last  clause. 

When  soft!— the  dusky  trees  between. 

And  down  the  path  through  the  open  green, 

T\liere  ia  no  living  thing  to  be  seen ; 

And  through  yon  gateway  where  is  found. 

Beneath  the  arch  with  ivy  bound. 

Free  entrance  to  the  churchyard  groimd. 

And  right  across  the  verdant  sod. 

Towards  the  very  house  of  QoA  ; 

— Comes  gliding  in  with  lovely  gleam. 

Comes  gliding  in.  serene  and  slow, 

Soft  and  silent  as  a  dream, 
A  solitary  doe  !— Wobdswobth. 
Bat  words  are  things,  and  a  small  drop  of  ink. 
Falling  like  dew  upon  a  thought,  produces 
That  which  makes  thousands,  perhaps  millions,  think ; 
'T  is  strange,  the  shortest  letter  which  man  uses 
Instead  of  speech,  may  form  a  lasting  link 
Of  ages ;  to  what  straits  old  Time  reduces 
Frail  man,  when  paper— even  a  rag  like  this, 
Survives  himself,  his  tomb,  and  all  that 's  his. — Btbor. 

Here  it  would  be  more  common  to  repeat  the  dash  after  "  this.** 
Find  illustrations  on  pages  66,  78,  86,  89. 

(Hi.)  Parentheses  used. 

A  man's  body  and  himself  (with  the  utmost  reverence  to  both  I  speak  it)  are  exactly 
like  a  jacket  and  a  jacket's  lining :  rumple  the  one.  you  rumple  the  other.— Sterne. 

All  knowledge,  and  wonder  (which  is  the  seed  of  knowledge)  is  an  impression  of 
pleasure  in  itself.— Bacon. 

Know  then  this  truth,  (enough  for  man  to  know,) 
Virtue  alone  is  happiness  below.— Popb. 
The  motto  is,  E pluribus  unuin  (from  many,  one). 


Chap.  XIV.  ]  PARENTHETICAL  REMARKS.  273 

35.  a.  If  a  parenthesis  is  inserted  at  a  place  in  the  sentence 
where  no  point  in  reiiuired,  no  point  should  be  put  before  or  after 
the  marks  of  parenthesis. 

See  first  two  illustrations  above. 

fi.  If  the  parenthesis  is  inserted  at  a  place  where  a  point  is  re- 
quired, 

i.  If  the  parenthesis  relates  to  the  entire  sentence,  the  required 
mark  precedes  the  parenthesis,  and  the  parenthetical  expression 
is  punctuated  as  though  it  stood  alone.     Thus  : 

He  had  two  Lalin  words  almost  constantly  in  his  month,  (how  odd  bounds  Latin  from 
•n  oilman's  lips  t)  which  my  t)etter  knowledge  has  since  enable«l  me  to  correct. — C.  Lamb. 

"Ay  !  here  now  I  (exclaimed  the  Critic,)  here  come  Coleridge's  metaphysics  I  " — Bio- 
graphkt  Uterarla. 

Bee  also  the  third  illustration  above. 

ii.  If  it  relates  to  a  single  word  or  a  short  clause,  no  mark  pre- 
cedes it,  and  the  required  mark  follows  it.    Thus  : 

By  the  intercession  of  his  friends  (who  had  interest  at  court),  he  obtained  bia  releaae. 

See  examples  on  pages  8,  9,  83,  89,  93,  108,  121,  158,  181. 
(Iv.)  Brackets  used. 

36.  Brackets  are  preferred  to  parentheses  for  the  following  pur- 
poses: 

a.  To  indicate  that  a  verbal  mistake  is  copied  from  an  original 
document;  as,  *'He  complained  that  he  was  superceded"  fso  in 
the  original].  So  of  any  remark  or  explanation  interpolated  by 
one  in  quoting  from  another;  thus,  on  page  51,  the  words  "the 
Duke  of  Marlborough,"  inserted  by  way  of  explanation,  not  by 
Thackeray  but  by  the  author  of  this  volume,  should  have  been 
printed  between  brackets  instead  of  parentheses,  while  eight  lines 
below  the  parentheses  are  correct,  having  been  inserted  by  Thack- 
eray himself. 

/?.  To  enclose  statements  of  things  done  which  would  not  ap- 
pear in  a  report  of  the  verbal  proceedings  alone;  as,  **I8  this 
[handing  a  pistol  to  the  witness]  the  weapon  he  had  in  his  hand  ?  " 

" The  gentlenuin  sajrt  Pm  dr-drnnk  [UtOKhter.]  W-well,  I  am  drank:  M  know 
Vm  drunk  ;  t>-but  I  shall  get  over  that.  But  tbtt  gentlemaa  himaelt  is  a  born  idiut  [ritung 
on  tiptoe,  and  pointing  at  him  nnstaadily,  and  twiagtog  hit  Mrms],  and  he'll  n  never  got 
ovar  that  i  "^    [Loud  appUoM  Mid  Uuaghter.] 


274  THE  COMMA  REQUIRED.  [Part  UI. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  89,  234. 

y.  When  a  parenthesis  occurs  within  a  parenthesis,  brackets 
should  be  substituted  for  the  outside  pair.     Thus : 

As  for  the  person  aggrieved  [I  mean  (do  not  mbUke  me)  the  original  owner],  he  waa 
tjaaely  defrauded. 

f.  Usually,  to  indicate  ellipsis.     Thus : 

Homer,  Cortland  Co.,  N.  Y.,  Aug.  16,  1883. 
Alpheus  Harkins,  Esq.,  27  Liberty  St.,  Boston,  Mass. 
He  started,  July  10,  for  Washington. 

The  ellipsis  most  frequently  indicated  by  the  comma  is 
that  of  a  verb  that  has  been  once  expressed.     Thus  : 

Histories  make  men  wise ;  poets,  witty ;  the  mathematics,  sub- 
tile ;  natural  philosophy,  deep ;  moral,  grave  ;  logic  and  rhetoric, 
able  to  contend. — Bacx>n. 

But  the  comma  need  be  inserted  only  when  the  mean- 
ing would  otherwise  be  obscure.     Thus : 

Some  books  are  to  be  tasted,  others  to  be  swallowed,  and  some 
few  to  be  chewed  aud  digested. — Bacon. 

Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  conference  a  ready  man,  and  writ- 
ing an  exact  man. — Ba(X)N. 

Since  brevity  ia  the  soul  of  wit. 
And  tedioasnesa  the  limbs  and  ontward  flonrishea, 
I  will  be  brief. — Hamlet. 

g.  To  introduce  quotations  too  short  or  informal  to  need 
the  colon. 

(I.)  The  comma  used. 

To  Lamb,  habitually  unpunctual,  the  head  of  the  office  ob- 
served, '•  Really,  Mr.  Lamb,  you  come  very  late."  **  Y-yes,"  stam- 
mered Lamb,  "  b-but  consider  how  early  I  go." 

(il.)  The  colon  used. 

Remember  the  epigram  of  Disi-aeli :  **  Like  all  great  travellers, 
I  have  seen  more  than  I  remembered,  and  remembered  more  than 
I  have  seen." 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


ABSOLUTE  RULES. 


I.  Every  wntenoe  mtwt  hare  at  the  end— 

a.  An  Interrogmtion  Point,  p.  SSO. 

I.  Only  at  the  end  of  HkecbuueR,  p.  357. 
S.  Nut  after  indirect  questions,  p.  Jt57. 

b.  An  Excliiiiiatioit  Point,  p.  980. 

8.  Uaod  after  interjectionii,  etc.,  p.  25S. 

4.  Two  or  more  express  ridicule,  p.  258. 

c.  Or  a  period,  257. 

II.  A  Period  most  also  be  nsed— 

a.  After  every  abbreviation,  p.  268. 

5.  After  each  letter,  p.  258. 

6.  Doc8  not  exclude  other  points,  p.  258. 

b.  After  Uoinan  n  iiuerals,  p.  25tj. 

c.  To  denote  oiniiwiun  in  a  quotation,  p.  259. 

7.  Three  pcriodn  fur  part  of  sentenoe; 

for  more,  four  or  more,  p.  259. 

d.  Before  decimals,  p.  259. 

8.  If  the  number  be  le8H  than  a  unit,  the 

word  should  be  s  n^lar,  p.  259. 

III.  An  Apostrophe  must  be  used — 

a.  To  indicaU.'  (loescsHive  ca<ie,  p.  259. 

9.  All  but  plural  nouns  in  «  take  apos- 

trophe and  ».  p  2WI. 
NoTB.— B»»me?»*  or  Barnes's,  p.  200. 

10.  Except ioiiH  to  rule  as  to  »,  p.  2»J1. 

II.  Not  uwhI  in  oun«.  yourn,  etc..  p.  261. 

b.  To  denote  plural  of  flifruied  and  lettera, 

p  261. 
12.  Thi^  usasrc  (Kx^asionally  extends  to 
u,,nu  .,  ar.!, 

c.  To-i 

i.  '  X  word,  p.  2fil. 

1  li-tiiitruishwl  from  ab- 

I'.  2«»1. 
U.  Ofsyl  Is  p.  261. 

14.   i^i  '-ft  between  two 

.  I.  one,  p.  261. 
Hi.  Of  th.  .         ;;v  1  ,  .latc^  p.  2«2. 

IV.  A  Hyphen  niu-i  i..   u^.•«>— 
u>  In  oom|H>tii)il  wonlH,  p.  262. 

15.  Which  lirr  oompound  words?  p.  262. 

b.  At  end  of  a  line,  when  a  word  is  divided, 

p.  269. 

16.  Division  only  by  syUablws  P-  M8. 

c.  To  unite  pcvflxes,  p.  20. 

17.  TlMdiareMssoaMtlni«iiiMd,p.268. 

V.  QootattanlUrkaintwtboBaad- 

a.  To  enoioM  an  exact  qnotatioii,  p.  269. 

18.  Not  for  indirect  qaocatioD,  p.  264. 

19.  Sometimes  omitted,  when  qnotetlon 

ends  sentence,  p.  264. 

20.  Repeated  before  each  of 

21.  Oebo-  paootnatioa  ma 

p.  264. 

121  QooCaUon  within  qnotatlMi.  p.  204. 

IS.  Omttt  il  in  paragrapha,  p.  2(0. 

24.  KonHgn  qootaUoaa  In  Italics,  with- 
out qnotatlM  mariw,  p.  26S. 

b.  Usnally.  toeBelo»««ltleeofbooka,p.28B, 

VI.  The  Dash  mtu*  be  oaed— 

a.  At  breakfag-offol  eeleaee.  |>.  260. 

b.  To 


c.  To  show  omission  of  letters,  p.  266, 

d.  To  show  hesitation,  etc.,  p.  266. 

e.  To  sepfu^te  speeches  in  a  dialogue,  p^ 

267. 

f.  To  separate  title  from  matter,  p.  267. 
K*  Between  extremeH  of  a  scries,  p.  267. 
VII.  The  Comma  must  be  iihc-d — 

a.  To  set  off  vo<«tive  exprewions,  p.  267. 
25.  Exclamation  l'ointrc(iuiru«l,  p.  268. 

b.  To  separate  Himilnr  words,  p.  2H.S. 

i.  When  not  connecleil  I ly  conjunctions, 
ALWATS.  p.  268. 

26.  Adjoining  adjo<-tivcs  not  always 

in  same  c-on^^truct-on,  p.  268. 

27.  Commas  rtiiiiire<l  after  as  well 

as  before,  p.  2ti8. 
a.  When  word  is  repeated  for 

emphoflis,  p.  268. 
/3.  When  wordn  are  subjects  of 
verb.  p.  269. 
li.  When  connected    by  conjunctions, 
ONLY,  p.  2«»9. 
a.  When  more  than  two. 

28.  Comma  should  precede  last 

conjunction,  p.  2<U>. 

29.  When  necHle<l  in  a  connect- 

ed scries,  p.  270. 
p.  When  one  word  hasqtmliflerR  be- 

longinj?  to  it  alone,  p.  2TU 
y.  When   wonis  are  emphatically 
diiitin(;uii<hed,  p.  270. 
C.  To  separate  pair.t  of  words  joined  by  con- 
junctions, p.  270. 
4.  To  Bct  off  phrases  in  apposition,  p.  270. 
SO.  SoiuetimeH  da.sh  required  to  show 

appotiition.  p.  271. 
81.  No  comma  required  where  apposi- 
tion is  reHtrictive.  p.  271. 
32.  General  title**  when  niotlifled  require 
comma,  p.  271. 
e«  To   set  off  parenthetical    remarks    p. 
271. 
L  The  oomma  in  used,  p.  271. 

88.  Comma  impro|>or  when  phrase 
is  divided  by  (x>niinaA.  p.  271. 

84.  Also  when  phrase  ends  with  ex- 

clamation   or    intcrrogalion 

mark,  p.  272. 
ii.  The  dash  used,  p.  272. 
iii.  Parenthei«s  used,  p.  272. 

85.  With  other  points,  p.  tn. 
It.  Brackets  usc«l. 

80.  Brackets  preferred,  p.  978. 

a.  To  state  that  verbal  mistake 

in  a  '  •    '  — • 

^.  Toil. 


y.  Por  outer  parenthesis  when 
another  Uencloeed.  p.  274. 
r.   Usnally.  to  indicate  ellipsis,  p.  274. 
«.  To  introdooe  quotations,  p.  274. 
i.  The  comma  used,  p.  274. 
il.  The  ookm  need,  p.  974. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

PUNCTUATION—  ConUnusd. 

The  prindplM  of  pnnctaation  are  rabtle,  and  an  exact  logical  training  i»  requisite  for 
the  just  application  of  them.  Naturally,  then,  mistaken  in  the  une  of  pointy  as  of  all 
the  elements  of  langnage,  written  and  spoken,  are  frequent ;  so  much  ko,  in  fact,  that  in 
the  oonstniction  of  private  contracts,  and  even  of  statnte^  judicial  tribanals  do  not  much 
regard  punctuation  ;  and  some  eminent  jurists  have  thought  that  legislative  enactments 
and  public  documents  should  be  without  it.— Mabsh. 

n.  RULES  DEPENDENT  UPON  JUDGMENT. 

A  Marked  Distinction. — While  some  of  the  rules  al- 
ready given  allow  latitude  to  differences  of  interpretation, 
and  even  of  taste,  most  of  them  are  rigid.  One  violates 
them  at  the  peril  of  being  misunderstood,  and  with  the 
certainty  of  being  looked  upon  as  defective  in  education. 
Though  his  sentences  be  constructed  with  the  utmost  sim- 
plicity, a  writer  can  hardly  fail  to  need  every  direction 
that  has  been  given. 

We  come  now  to  more  uncertain  grouncj.  The  difficulty 
of  jpunctxiMion  as  an  art,  and  the  diversity  in  icsage,  are 
mostly  confined  to  the  division  of  sentences  hy  commas.  It 
is  a  general  rule  that  these  divisions  are  to  aid  the  eye  in 
comprehending  the  construction  of  the  sentence.  As  to 
what  is  the  construction  of  a  sentence,  what  are  the  rela- 
tions of  the  parts  to  each  other,  and  how  these  relations 
may  best  be  indicated  by  punctuation,  judgment  and  taste 
differ  so  widely  that  no  absolute  rules  can  be  laid  down. 


Chap.  XV.  1  DIVBBSITT  OP  USAGE.  277 

Adverbial  phrases,  for  instance,  are  to  be  separated  only 
when  they  break  the  connection.  But  when  do  they  break 
the  connection  ?  To  one  man,  grasping  easily  the  sentence 
as  a  whole,  no  ordinary  phrase  is  an  interruption.  To 
another,  who  works  out  the  meaning  little  by  little,  each 
group  of  words  requires  individual  study.  The  latter  may 
be  obliged  to  insert  with  a  lead-pencil  a  dozen  points  which 
the  author  has  thought  unnecessary.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  rapid  reader  may  feel  clogged  by  a  succession  of  commas 
that  are  to  him  unnecessary  and  annoying. 

Take,  for  instance,  this  sentence  from  "  Green's  History  of  the 
English  People  "  (Harper's  edition,  iii.  227) : 

In  spite  of  this  Charles  had  throoghont  the  year  been  intrigning  with  the  Confeder- 
ates throoffh  Lord  Olamorgan ;  and  though  his  efforts  to  secnre  their  direct  aid  were  for 
■ome  time  fraiUess  he  saooeeded  In  September  in  bringing  about  an  armistice  between 
tiMir  forces  and  the  army  under  the  Earl  of  Ormond  which  had  as  yet  held  them  in  check 

Here  is  a  sentence  without  a  comma  that  many  writers  would 
have  divided  by  commas  after  tJiis,  had,  year,  Confedei-ates,  tcere^ 
timet  fruUlesit,  succeeded,  September,  Ormond,  had,  yet — no  less  than 
twelve  commas  for  which  rules  can  be  found  in  most  treatises  on 
punctuation,  and  no  one  of  which,  if  all  were  inserted,  could  be 
called  an  error. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  sentence  as  it  stands  must  be  pro' 
nounced  faultless.  It  is  perspicuous,  easily  read,  easily  under- 
stood. The  only  possible  misconception  would  be  as  to  the  last 
relAtive  olauBe.  It  is  an  accepted  rule  that  a  relative  clause  not 
separated  by  a  comma  is  restrictive.  Applying  that  rule  here,  it. 
might  be  inferred  that  there  was  some  other  army  under  the  Earl 
of  Ormond  that  had  not  held  them  in  check.  But  as  it  happens, 
Mr.  Oreen  follows  the  rule  to  use  that  to  introduce  restrictive 
clauses,  and  which  to  introduce  those  that  modify  without  restrict- 
ing ;  hence  he  makes  tho  distinction  doar  without  itnnctuation. 
There  is  therefore  in  this  sontonce  tht»  liberty  under  rules  to  use 
any  number  of  commas  from  none  to  twelve.  Surely  there  ia 
nothing  absolute  in  niles  so  variously  construed. 

It  should  be  remarked,  however,  thnt  only  care  in  tlie  atrauge* 


278  PUNCTUATION.  [Pabt  in. 

ment  of  olanses  makes  it  possible  to  dispense  with  punctuation. 
Ck>nstnict  the  sentence  as  follows,  and  no  one  of  the  twelve  commas 
can  be  spared : 

Oharlm  had  b«en  intriguing,  in  spite  of  this,  through  Lord  OUunorgan.  thronghont 
the  jour,  with  the  Confederates ;  and  he  miooeeded,  though  his  efforte  were  fmitleM  to 
secure  their  direot  aid,  for  bobm  time,  in  bringing  about  an  armistioe,  in  September,  be- 
tween their  foroes  and  the  army  which,  as  yet,  under  the  Bari  of  Ormond,  had  held 
them  in  check. 

He  Punctuates  Best  who  Needs  to  Punctuate 
Least. — A  comparison  of  the  two  sentences  just  given 
will  impress  upon  the  reader  a  principle  of  composition 
than  which  no  other  is  more  important: — The  less  punc- 
t nation  a  sentence  needs,  the  more  dear  and  effective  it  is. 

This  does  not  mean  that  all  sentences  are  to  be  short, 
with  one  subject  and  one  predicate.  Delicate  shades  of 
meaning  often  require  complicated  sentences.  Our  state- 
ment is,  not  that  an  unpunctuated  sentence  is  better  than 
another  sentence  which  requires  considerable  punctuation, 
but  that  a  given  sentence  is  improved  when,  by  a  re- 
arrangement of  its  clauses,  fewer  punctuation  marks  are 
required.  These  marks  ai*e  often,  and  rightly,  called 
"  stops."  To  a  certain  extent  they  are  interruptions  of 
the  flow  of  the  sentence.  The  notion  that  they  indicate 
where  one  reading  aloud  is  to  pause,  either  for  breath  or 
for  emphasis,  was  long  ago  given  up.  They  are  simply 
aids  to  unravel  a  tancrled  sentence.  What  can  be  clearer 
than  that  a  sentence  should  be  as  little  tangled  as  pos- 
sible ? 

For  the  peace  of  mind  of  thousands  of  women  who  are  wretched 
cooks,  the  writer  of  the  following  paragraph  should  so  have  ar- 
ranged his  clauses  as  to  escape  being  at  the  mercy  of  a  careless 
printer  who  drops  a  comma  : 

An  unfortunate  wife  was  killed  at  Troj',  N.  Y.,  while  cooking  her  husband's  breakfast 
in  a  fearful  manner. 

Punctuation  may  remove  an  ambiguity,  but  will  never  produce 


Ohap.  XV.]  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  279 

that  peculiar  beanty  which  is  perceived  when  the  sense  comes  out 
clearly  and  distinctly  by  means  of  a  happy  arrangement. — Kames. 

The  introduction  of  marki  of  punctuation  into  Latin  manuBcript  was  upecially  favored 
by  the  inflexible  character  of  the  Latin  language,  which  inexorably  demands  a  periodic 
■tructuro,  and,  like  a  true  pedagogue,  pedantically  insistK  that  the  reader  shall  parse 
ereiy  word  in  order  to  master  the  sentence.  Once  employed  they  become  indispenrable. 
Beginning  with  air-bladders  we  never  learn  to  swim  without  them.  Every  parenthesis 
mtiat  have it«  land niMrkH.  every  torn  of  phrase  its  flnger-po^t.  We  think  by  commas,  Kemi- 
oolons  and  period^  and  the  free  movementn  of  a  Dcmusthcnes  or  a  Thucydidcs  are  as 
anlHw  the  measured,  balanced  tread  of  a  modern  or.itor  or  hintorical  narrator,  as  the 
flight  of  an  eagle  to  the  lock-step  of  a  prison  convict,  or  to  the  march  of  a  well-drilled  sol- 
dier, who  can  plant  hiM  foot  only  at  the  tap  of  the  drum.  We  are  not  content  with  a 
punctuation  which  marks  tie  beginning  and  end  of  a  period,  separates  its  members,  and 
distinguishes  parenthetical  qualifications.  We  require  that  it  shall  indicate  the  rhetorical 
character  of  the  sentence.  If  it  is  vocative,  ejaculatory.  optative,  intcrjcctional,  it  must 
boist  an  explanation  point  as  as  a  signaL  If  it  is  hypothetical  or  interrogative,  it  must 
announce  itaell  by  a  mark  of  interrogation ;  and  the  Spaniards  carry  the  point  so  far, 
that,  in  their  typography,  these  signs  precede  as  well  as  follow  the  sentence.— Mabih. 

VIII.  The  Comma  may  be  used  : 

a.  7c>  separate  from  the  rest  of  the.  sentence^  adverbs, 
adverbial  conjunctions,  and  short  adverbial  clauses  only 
when  they  break  the  connection. 

( i . )  Commas  required : 

There  is,  therefore,  a  limit  at  which  forbearance  ceases  to  be  a 
virtue. — Burke. 

In  strict  justice,  perhaps,  he  should  be  punished. 

Wit,  like  money,  boai-s  an  extra  value  when  rung  down  imme- 
diately it  is  wanted.     Men  pay  severely  who  require  credit. — Jeb- 

BOLD. 

You  shall  see  them  on  a  beautiful  quarto  page,  where  a  neat 
rivulet  of  text  shall  meander  through  a  meadow  of  margin. — 
Sheridan. 

(ii.)  ComiYuu  not  required : 

Therefore  there  is  a  limit  at  which  forbearance  oeases  to  be  a 
virtue. 

Perhaps  in  strict  justice  he  should  be  punished. 

Fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread.— Pops. 
A  Uttl*  nooMnae  now  and  then 
la  rriklMd  by  the  bwl  of  men. 


280  THE  COM^IA  PERMITTED.  [Part  III. 

Silence  when  nothing  need  be  said  is  the  eloquence  of  dis- 
cretion. — BOTEB. 

The  systematic  stndj  of  the  mother  tongue,  like  that  of  all 
branches  of  knowledge  which  we  acquire,  to  a  suflficient  extent  for 
ordinary  purposes,  without  study,  is  naturally  very  generally  ne- 
glected.— Mabhh. 

Here  the  ooaimM  after  **  aoqttire  **  end  "  pnrpoeee  **  merely  dog  the  flow  of  thought, 
making  the  idee  lev  dietlnet. 

Special  changea  of  vocabulary  can  frequently  be  explained,  after  Vbej  have  once  hap- 
pened, but  very  aeldom  foretold. — Mabsh. 

Here  the  "after  they  have  [once]  hapi)ened"  is  closely  con- 
nected with  the  "explained,"  the  whole  expression  "explained 
after  they  have  happened  "  corresponding  with  the  single  word 
"foretold."  Hence  the  comma  after  "explained"  obscures  the 
sense. 

Find  other  illustrations  on  page  220.    See  ' '  therefore,*'  page  327. 

(III.)  Commas  tcaed  or  not,  according  to  j/reference  : 

Words  indeed  are  but  the  signs  and  counters  of  knowledge, 
and  their  currency  should  be  strictly  regulated  by  the  capital 
which  they  represent — Comx)N. 

Beneath  the  rule  of  men  entirely  great 

The  pen  is  mightier  than  the  sword. — Bulwkb. 

The  thoughts  that  come  unsought,  and,  as  it  were,  drop  into 
the  mind,  are  commonly  the  most  valuable  of  any  we  have,  and 
therefore  they  should  be  secured,  because  they  seldom  return 
again. — Locke. 

When  I  read  niles  of  criticism,  I  inquire  immediately  after  the 
works  of  the  author  who  has  written  them,  and  by  that  means  dis- 
cover what  it  is  he  likes  in  a  composition. — Addison. 

(Iv.)   Commas  used  or  not,  accoj'ding  to  weaning  : 

Just  at  the  age  'twixt  boy  and  youth, 

When  thought  is  speech,  and  speech  is  truth. — Marmion. 

Here  to  insert  a  comma  after  age,  would  mean  that  the  age  when 
thought  is  speech  covers  the  entire  period  from  boy  to  youth, 


Chap.  XV.  ]  ADVERBIAL  PHRASES.  281 

while  to  omit  it  wonld  mean  that  this  age  is  restricted  to  a  period 
somewhere  between  boy  and  jonth,  but  not  covering  the  entire 
time. 

He  endaarored  in  erery  poosible  way  to  andermine  his  riTal. 

As  unponctnated,  or  with  commas  after  "endeavored'*  and 
"way,"  the  "every  possible  way"  would  signify  that  his  endea- 
vors were  of  every  kind.  A  comma  after  "endeavored"  would 
indicate  that  the  undermining  was  to  be  of  every  possible  kind. 
In  other  words,  the  first  punctuation  would  throw  the  emphasis 
upon  the  methods  employed ;  the  latter,  upon  the  results  ob- 
tained. 

Tfu  Tocut  as  Given.—"  Woman  :  without  her,  man  is  a  mvage.** 
The  Toa*t  cu  Head,—"  Woman,  withoat  her  man,  is  a  sarage." 

A  barber's  sign  read  as  follows : 

What  do  yon  think 

ril  sbaTo  yon  for  nothing,  and  give  yon  a  drink. 

Strangers  would  mentally  punctuate  it  as  follows  : 

What  do  yon  think  I 

ril  Khave  yoa  for  nothing,  and  give  yoa  a  drink. 

But  after  being  attended  to,  they  were  assured  that  the  mean- 
ing was  as  follows : 

What  I  do  yon  think 

ru  shave  yon  for  nothing,  and  give  yoa  a  drink  T 

87.  Adverbs  distinguished  from  Conjunctions.  —  Many  words 
ranked  as  adverbs  are  sometimes  employed  conjunctively,  and  re- 
quire a  different  treatment  in  their  punctuation.  When  used  as 
conjunctions,  hofcever,  now^  then,  too,  indeed,  are  divided  by  commas 
from  the  context ;  but  when  as  adverbs,  qualifying  the  words  with 
which  they  are  associated,  the  separation  should  not  be  made. 
This  distinction  will  be  seen  from  the  following  examples : 

1.  HowBTBB.— W*  mxkMt,  kowevtr,  pay  knim  defennoe  to  the  opinlona  ci  the  wise, 
kowmer  mooh  they  are  oontrary  tpjMr  own. 

t.  Mow.— I  have  now  ehown  the  onudefncty  of  my  itrindplea;  and,  ntno,  what  is  the 
tair  and  obvioiw  ooodnakm  ? 

8.  THn.— On  tiieee  ItttHm,  tJUm,  I  Mm  raitwl  my  aqroment,  and  atterwarda  made  m 
few  gaoanl  obeerratlooe  on  the  aobjeok, 


282  THE  COBiMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  IIL 

4.  Too.— I  fonnd,  too^  m  theatre  «t  Alexandria,  and  another  at  Cairo ;  but  he  who 
would  enjoy  the  repreeentationa  must  not  be  too  particular. 

5.  INDKKD.— The  TOttng  man  was  IndMif  oolpable  in  that  act,  though,  indeed,  he  con- 
ducted himself  rery  well  in  other ; 


When  placed  at  the  end  of  a  sentence  or  a  clause,  the  conjnnc- 
tion  too  must  not  be  separated  from  the  context  by  a  comma ;  as, 
•*  I  would  that  they  had  changed  voices  too." — Wimon. 

b.  To  separate  the  subject  from  Uie  predicate,  only 
when : 

(I.)  The  subject  ends  with  a  verb ;  as,  Whatever  is,  is 
right. 

(II.)  The  subject  is  so  long  and  involved  that  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  where  it  ends  and  the  predicate  begins.     Thus : 

The  voice  of  praise,  too,  coming  from  those  to  whom  we  had 
thought  ourselves  unknown,  has  a  magic  about  it  that  must  be  felt 
to  be  understood. — ^Lkveb. 

He  who  comes  up  to  his  own  idea  of  greatness,  must  always  have 
had  a  very  low  standard  of  it  in  his  mind. — HAZLrrr. 

He  that  will  lose  his  friend  for  a  jest,  deserves  to  die  a  beggar 
by  the  bargain. — Fuller. 

To  write  much,  and  to  write  rapidly,  are  empty  boasts.  The 
world  desires  to  know  what  you  have  done,  and  not  how  you  did 
it. — Lewes. 

He  that  cometh  in  print  because  he  would  be  knowen,  is  like 
the  foole  that  cometh  into  the  Market  because  he  woulde  be  seen. 
—  Lyly. 

There  are  few  delights  in  any  life  so  high  and  rare  as  the  subtle 
and  strong  delight  of  sovereign  art  and  poetry ;  there  are  none 
more  pure  and  sublime.  To  have  read  the  greatest  work  of  any 
great  poet,  to  have  beheld  or  heard  the  greatest  works  of  any 
great  painter  or  mu&ician,  is  a  possession  added  to  the  best  things 

of  life. — SXSTNBURNE. 

Discretion  of  speech  is  more  than  eloquence ;  and  to  speak 
agreeably  to  him  with  whom  we  deal,  is  more  than  to  speak  in 
good  words,  or  in  good  order. — Bacon. 

My  tongue  within  my  lips  I  rein. 

For  who  talks  much,  must  talk  in  vaiu. — Gay. 


Chap.  XV.]      SUBJECT  AND  PREDICATE  SEPARATED.  2S3 

88.  Whether  it  is  difficult  to  see  where  the  predicate  begina  is 
nsnally  a  matter  of  judgment. 

Find  examples  on  pages  49,  147,  187. 

Usually  the  comma  should  be  omitted  unless  its  need  is 
manifest.     Thus : 

A  wiM  man  in  the  company  of  the  ignorant  has  been  compared  by  the  ngm  to  a 
oeantifol  girl  in  the  company  of  blind  men.— Saadi. 

Sometimes,  however,  ambiguity  is  manifest,  and  unless  the  sen- 
tence is  reconstructed  the  comma  must  be  used. 

89.  Sometimes,  especially  in  contrasted  expressions,  a  comma 
may  be  inserted  to  compel  attention  to  each  member  of  the  sen- 
tence ;  as,  Mind  unemployed,  is  mind  unenjoyed. — Bovee. 

40.  When  the  subject  consists  of  several  clauses,  especially  when 
each  ends  with  a  semicolon,  the  last  commonly  ends  either  with  a 
comma  followed  by  a  dash,  or  with  a  colon,  and  all  the  clauses  are 
snmmed  up  in  some  one  word  or  expression. 

There  U  Maroe  a  village  in  Earope,  and  not  one  nniveniity,  that  in  not  furnished  with 
Itfl  little  great  men.  The  head  of  a  iietty  c<>r|K)ration,  who  op|K>8ei*  the  designK  of  a  prince 
who  woold  tyrannically  force  his  subjecUi  to  itavc  thi-ir  best  clothes  for  Siutdayx  .  the  puny 
pedant,  who  finds  one  undiHcovered  quality  in  the  polypus,  or  describes  an  nnheoded  pro- 
otm  in  the  slceleton  of  a  mole,  and  whose  mind,  liku  hin  mlcroecopc,  (leroeivee  nature  only 
In  detail ;  the  rhymer,  who  makes  smooth  verxos  and  painta  to  our  imagination,  when  he 
ahould  only  speak  to  our  heart*,— all  equally  fancy  thcmnclves  walking  forward  to  immor- 
tality, and  daaire  the  crowd  behind  them  to  look  on. 

A  pidcpocket  in  every  car;  a  cheat  at  every  sUtion  ;  every  third  switch  on  the  road 
i ;  the  danger  of  being  hurled  rroin  the  track,  and  then  bumc«l  alive :  the«e  con- 
prevent  my  travelling  on  the  r.iilroatl  of  which  you  speak. 

When  yon  know  a  thing,  to  hold  that  you  know  it ;  and  when  you  do  not  know  a  things 
to  allow  that  you  do  not  know  it :  this  U  knowle<)gc.— Conftcios. 

Style  I  ■tyle  t  why,  all  writers  will  tell  you  that  it  is  the  very  thing  which  can  leaat  of 
all  be  changed.  A  mun'a  style  is  neitrly  as  much  a  i>art  of  him  as  his  physiognomy,  bis 
Icnrv,  the  throbbing  of  his  poise,— in  short,  as  any  part  of  his  being  which  is  least  sub- 
jected to  the  action  of  the  will.— Pkhblom. 

It  is  no  proof  of  a  man's  understanding  to  be  able  to  confirm  what/>ver  he  pleaaes ;  bat 
to  be  able  to  disct-ni  that  what  is  true  is  troe.  and  that  what  is  false  is  false :  this  is  the 
nuu-k  and  character  of  inUOIigimoe.  -  KicXBaoil. 

There  arc  three  friendships  that  are  advantageoos,  and  three  that  are  injoriooa 
Friendship  with  the  upright;  friendship  with  the  sincere :  ami  friMidship  with  the  man 
of  obM^rvation  :  these  are  advantagwms.  Friendship  with  the  man  of  specious  airs ;  friend- 
ship with  the  Inslnnatintly  soft ;  and  Moktehip  with  the  gUb-toncned :  thsM  are  tnjul- 
ooa.— CuMrociDS. 


Find  examples  on  p«get  60,  84,  85,  96,  217. 


284  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  III. 

C.  To  separate  the  object  from  the  predicate  only  when 
without  it  there  would  be  manifest  ambiguity.     Thus: 

Friends  to  whom  you  are  in  debt,  you  hate.— Wtoheblet.  With- 
out the  comma,  it  might  be  the  friends  who  were  hated,  or  the 
debt. 

d.  Before  the  first  ''Hhai  "  in  clauses  introduced  by  "  It 
is  said  that,"  "  I  answer  that,"  etc.,  when  there  are  several 
propositions  in  the  same  construction.     Thus  : 

It  was  a  cutting  remark  of  Sheridan's,  that  a  certain  speaker 
was  indebted  to  his  imagination  for  his  facts,  and  that  he  relied 
upon  his  memory  for  his  wit. 

Philosophers  assert,  that  Nature  is  unlimited  in  her  operations, 
that  she  has  inexhaustible  treasures  in  reserve,  that  knowledge  will 
be  always  progressive,  and  that  all  future  generations  will  continue 
to  make  discoveries  of  which  we  have  not  the  slightest  idea. 

41.  After  nouns  like  maxim,  rule^fact,  law,  principle,  etc.,  a  sin- 
gle proposition  may  take  a  comma  before  the  that ;  as.  It  is  an  old 
maxim,  that  fast  bound  is  fast  found. 

42.  Where  such  a  proposition  is  introduced  by  the  verb  to  he,  a 
comma  is  usually  inserted  before  the  that.     Thus  : 

Let  oar  object  be,  our  conntiy,  oar  whole  coantry,  and  nothing  bat  oar  ooantry. — 
Webstkb. 

There  Ik,  first,  the  litentnre  of  knowledge ;  and,  secondly,  the  literatare  of  power. 

The  function  of  the  first  is,  to  teach  :  the  function  of  the  second  is,  to  move :  the  first  is 
a  rudder  ;  the  second  an  oar  or  a  sail.  The  first  speaks  to  the  mere  dlwursive  under- 
standing ;  the  second  speaks  ultimately,  it  may  happen,  to  the  higher  understanding  or 
reason,  but  always  through  affections  of  pleasure  and  sympathy.— De  Qcincet. 

43.  When  the  introductory  clause  is  long,  it  makes  the  proposi- 
tion more  definite  and  emphatic  to  insert  the  comma  ;  as,  It  is  the 
ruin  of  all  the  young  talent  of  the  day,  that  reading  and  writing 
are  simultaneous. — Mrs.  Fletcher. 

e.  To  separate  co-ordinate  clauses^  where  each  thought 
demands  distinct,  but  not  emphatically  distinct,  considera- 
tion ;  as,  Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  conference  a  ready 
man,  and  writing  an  exact  man. — Bacon. 


Chap.  XV.]  CO-ORDINATE  CLAUSES.  285 

It  is  only  in  the  separation  of  co-orcliuate  clauses  that  there  is 
any  reason  in  the  old  rule  of  counting  one  for  a  comma,  two  for  a 
semicolon,  three  for  a  colon,  and  four  for  a  period.  In  this  use 
of  the  marks,  the  author  indicates  the  time  he  wishes  each  individ- 
ual thought  of  a  series  to  receive  by  the  importance  of  the  points 
by  which  he  separates  them.  Thus,  to  quote  a  familiar  line  from 
Tennyson, 

Knowledge  oomes,  but  wisdom  lingers, 

the  use  of  the  comma  distinguishes  the  two  ideas,  but  does  not 
emphatically  contrast  them.     If  the  line  were  written, 

Knowledge  comes ;  but  wisdom  lingers, 

the  mind  would  be  compelled  to  dwell  a  moment  longer  on  the 
contrast.    If  it  were  written, 

Knowledge  comes :  bat  wisdom  lingers, 

the  contrast  would  be  still  more  marked.     If  it  were  written, 

Knowledge  comes.    But  wisdom  lingers, 

or, 

Knowledge  oomM.— Bat  wisdom  lingers, 

the  reader  would  feel  that  the  author  meant  to  give  this  thought 
all  possible  emphasis.    Or  if,  again,  it  were  written. 

Knowledge  oomes  bnt  wisdom  lingers, 

the  effect  would  be  somewhat  that  of  repeating  a  familiar  proverb, 
remembered  as  a  whole,  without  care  to  distinguish  its  connection 
of  thought. 

Where  so  much  depends  upon  a  shade  of  meaning,  more  can  be 
learned  from  example  than  from  precept ;  so  in  place  of  arbitrary 
roles  we  g^ve  a  number  of  ty|)ical  sentences. 

(i.)  No  point  used. 

▲  stodent  of  panctofttkm  shoold  sHk  himself  tchy  in  •  giren  case  to  put  in  %  stop 
rather  than  why  to  \mn  on*  cot;  for  tho  iuMTtinn  ..f  unneceMarj  st<^M  is,  on  the  whole, 
mora  Ulnlj  U>  mtolead  •  reader  than  is  the  omisKion  of  neocasary  ones.— ▲.  S.  Hill. 

Here  the  contrast  requiriss  a  comma  between  stop  and  rather. 

It  is  in  Ksoflral  moc*  profltabia  to  rsekoo  op  oar  defteta  than  to  boast  of  oar  attain- 
ments.— CabltIiB. 


286  THE  COMMA   PERMITTED  [Par:  III. 

The  tme  nae  of  qwedi  U  not  to  moch  to  exprsM  our  want*  as  to  oonoeal  them.— 

GOLOSMITB. 

(11.)  The  comma  used, 

WlMre  n»iara*B  end  of  langnaga  to  dodhied. 

And  men  talk  only  to  oonoeal  their  mind.— Tou»o. 

Pen  copious  Dryden  wanted,  or  forgot. 

The  last  and  greatest  art,  the  art  to  blot.— Pors. 

For  rhetoric  he  could  not  ope 

Hto  month,  bat  ont  there  flew  a  trope.— HiMdAraw. 

Conceit  may  pnfT  a  man  up.  but  nerer  prop  him  np.— Rutcnr. 

The  fool  doih  think  he  is  wise,  but  the  wiae  man  knows  himaelf  to  be  a  fool.— ^«  You 
La4  It. 

Ocoaaions  do  not  make  a  man  frail,  but  they  show  that  he  is.— TnoMAf  k  Kevpii . 

Uto  face  was  without  form  and  dark,  the  stars  dim  twinkled  through  his  form.— 


Master  booka,  bat  do  not  let  them  master  you.  Read  to  live,  not  live  to  read.- 
BvLWKm. 

ffis  heart  was  as  great  as  the  world,  but  than  wm  no  room  in  it  to  hold  the  memory 
of  a  wrong. — Emuuoh. 

It  is  not  always  the  depth  or  the  novdty  of  a  thonght  which  constttutes  its  value  to 
ooradvea,  but  the  fitnees  of  its  application  to  our  circumstances.  — Skwiix. 

No  great  genius  was  ever  without  some  mixture  of  madne<«,  nor  can  anything  grand 
or  superior  to  the  voice  of  common  mortals  be  spoken  except  by  the  a^tated  soul.— 

AmiBTOTLB. 

The  mind  never  unbends  itself  so  tLgneabij  as  in  the  conreniition  of  a  well-choaen 
friend.  There  is  indeed  no  blessing  in  life  that  is  any  way  comparable  to  the  enjoymcot 
of  a  discreet  and  virtuous  friend.  It  e&ses  and  unloads  the  mind,  clears  and  improves  the 
nndorstandinR,  engenders  thought*  and  knowledge,  animates  virtue  and  good  resolutions, 
soothes  and  allays  the  passions,  and  finds  employment  for  most  of  the  vacant  hours  of 
life.— Adduom. 

God  be  thanked  for  books.  They  are  the  voices  of  the  distant  and  the  dead,  and 
make  us  heirs  of  the  spiritual  life  of  past  ages.  Books  are  the  true  levellers.  They  give 
to  all  who  will  faithfully  use  them  the  society,  the  spiritual  presence  of  the  best  and 
greatest  of  our  race.  No  matter  how  poor  I  am,  no  matter  though  the  prosperous  of  my 
own  time  will  not  enter  my  humble  dwelling.  If  the  sacred  writers  will  enter  and  take 
up  their  abode  under  my  roof,  if  Milton  will  cross  my  threshold  to  sing  to  me  of  Para- 
dise, and  Shakspere,  to  open  to  me  the  worlds  of  imatpnation  and  the  workings  of  the 
human  heart,  and  Franklin  to  enrich  me  with  his  practical  wisdom,  I  shall  not  pine  for 
want  of  intellectual  companionship,  and  I  may  become  a  cultivated  man  though  excluded 
from  what  is  called  the  best  society,  in  the  place  where  I  live. — Channinq. 

Find  other  illustrations  on  pages  45,  128. 
(Hi.)  The  semicolon  used. 

Some  must  watch,  while  some  must  sleep ; 
So  runs  the  world  away. — FTamlet. 
Men's  evil  maimers  live  in  brass  :  their  virtues  we  write  in  water.— Shakspehj. 
Learning  without  thought  is  labor  lost ;  thought  without  learning  is  perilous. — Con- 
ruoius. 


Chap.  XV.]  CO-ORDINATE  CLAUSES.  287 

Wb»t  the  great  man  seeks  is  in  himself ;  what  the  small  man  seeks  ia  in  others.— Con- 
rnciim. 

Qoarip  is  a  sort  of  smoke  that  comes  from  the  dirty  tobacco-pi|x»  of  tlu«e  who  diffuse 
it;  it  proves  nothing  but  the  bad  taste  of  the  smoker.— George  Kliot. 

The  sublime  and  the  ridicnlous  are  often  so  nearly  related,  that  It  is  difficult  to  class 
them  separately.  One  step  below  the  sablUne  makes  the  ridiculous;  and  one  step  above 
the  ridiculons  makes  the  sublime  again. — Paink. 

44.  Qauses  that  are  themselves  divuled  hy  commas  should  be 
divided  from  each  other  by  semicolons.     Thus  : 

Words  learned  by  rote  a  parrot  may  rehearse. 
But  talking  ih  not  always  to  converse  ; 
Not  more  diKtinct  from  harmony  divine 
The  constant  croaking  of  a  country  sign. — Cowpbb. 
We  think  our  fathers  fooU,  ho  wise  we  grow ; 
Our  wiser  sons,  no  doubt,  will  think  us  so. — Pope. 
Knglish  is  an  exprfiisive  langnafre.  but  not  difficult  to  master.     Its  range  is  limited ;  it 
ronsistit,  as  fur  as  I  can  observe,  of  four  words,  *'  nice,*'  "  jolly,"  "  charming,"  and  some 
granmiarians  aiid    *  fond." — Dikrakli. 

The  orator  persuades  and  carries  all  with  him,  he  knows  not  how ;  the  rhetorician 
can  prove  that  he  ought  to  have  persuaded  and  carried  all  with  him. — Carltlb. 

Equality  is  the  life  of  conversation ;  and  he  is  as  much  out  who  assumes  to  himself 
any  part  above  another,  as  he  who  oonaideni  himsdf  below  the  rest  of  the  society. — 
Btkelb. 

Whatever  be  the  number  of  a  man's  friends,  there  will  be  times  in  his  life  when  he  has 
one  too  few ;  but  if  he  has  only  one  enemy,  he  is  lucky  indeed  if  he  has  not  one  too  many. 

— BULWER. 

There  is  no  harm  in  being  stupid,  so  long  as  a  man  does  not  think  himself  clever;  no 
good  in  being  clover,  it  a  man  thinks  himself  so,  for  that  is  a  short  way  to  the  worst 
stapidity.— Macdonald. 

A  slender  acqaaintance  with  the  world  must  convince  every  mnn  that  actions,  not 
words,  arr  the  true  criierion  of  the  attachment  of  friends ;  and  that  the  most  1il>eral  pro- 
feasions  of  good-will  are  very  far  from  being  the  surest  marks  of  it Washinotok. 

In  literatnre  quotation  is  good  only  when  the  writer  whom  I  follow  goes  my  way,  and, 
being  better  mounted  than  I,  gives  me  a  cast  as  we  say ;  but  if  I  like  the  gay  c<|ui|)age  ao 
well  as  to  go  out  of  my  road,  I  bad  better  have  gone  afoot Emeki>o!(. 

When  self -esteem  ezpresMS  itself  in  contempt  of  another,  be  it  the  meanest,  it  must 
be  repellaat.  A  fliiipant,  frivolous  man  may  ridicule  others,  may  controvert  them,  soorn 
them ;  but  he  who  hM  any  respect  for  himself  seems  to  have  renounced  the  right  of 
thinking  meanly  of  others.— Oobthx. 

I*oetry,  above  all,  we  sboold  have  known  long  ago,  ia  one  of  thotte  mysterious  things 
whose  origin  and  devetopmenta  never  can  be  what  we  call  explaintnl ;  often  It  seems  to 
us  like  the  wind,  biosHng  where  It  lists,  oomlag  and  departing  with  little  or  no  regard  to 
any  the  most  cunning  theory  that  has  yet  been  devised  of  it— Cabltlb. 

Find  illnHtrations  on  pages  107,  157,  223,  235,    246.     Notice 

neglect  of  this  rale  on  pages  216-219,  227. 

(iv.)  Tht*  coUm  used, 

Orrat  things  aaioalali  m.  Mad  mhOI  dMMMtm :  outoa  makw  liotti  tamaiar.— Da  '^ 
BBtnriBB. 


^S8  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  III 

45.  Clauses  that  are  tkemaehes  divided  by  semicolons  may  he  di" 
vided/rom  each  other  by  colons.    Thus : 

Think  an  yoa  tpmk ;  bat  qwak  not  all  you  think : 
Thooghta  are  your  own ;  your  words  are  ao  no  more ; 
Where  Wiadom  etoen,  wind  oannot  make  yoa  sink : 
Lips  never  err,  when  she  doea  keep  the  door.— DczacHX. 
In  friendshipa  some  are  worthy,  and  soma  are  neoeasary ;  some  dwell  hard  by.  and  are 
fitted  tar  cooTene;  nature  joins  acme  to  na,  and  religion  oomUnes  us  with  others ;  so- 
ciety and  aocldents,  parity  of  fortane,  and  equal  diqxwitloii,  do  actuate  all  our  friend- 
ships :  which  of  themselves  and  in  their  prime  diqiwaitions  art  prepared  for  all  mankind 
according  as  any  one  can  reoeiTe  them.— Jbbkict  Tatu>k. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  68,  97,  121,  234,  250.  Notice  neg- 
lect of  this  rule  on  pages  216-219. 

46.  Hence  the  colon  is  especially  adapted  to  separate  from 
other  clauses  a  clause  that  summarizes  them. 

There  are  bat  two  ways  of  paying  debt :  increase  of  indnatry  in  raising  income,  in- 
crease of  thrift  in  laying  out.— Casltul 

It  is  with  books  as  with  men :  a  yoj  small  number  play  a  great  part ;  the  rest  are 
confbonded  with  the  multitude.— Vox.TAiax. 

Find  illustrations  on  pages  14,  210,  213. 

47.  But  when  clau^s  that  expand  a  thought  are  introduced  by 
namely,  to  wit,  as,  thus,  etc.,  a  semicolon  precedes  and  a  comma 
follows  these  introductory  words.    Thus  : 

As  for  jest,  there  be  certain  things  which  ought  to  be  privileged  from  it ;  namely,  re- 
ligion, matters  of  state,  great  persons,  any  man's  presoat  busineas  of  importance,  any 
case  that  deaerveth  pity.— Bacon. 

Even  when  namely  or  the  like  word  is  omitted,  the  semicolon 
is  retained  if  the  stmcture  remains  the  same.     Thus : 

Incivility  is  not  a  vice  of  the  soul,  but  the  effect  of  several  vices ;  of  vanity,  ignorance 
of  duty,  laziness,  stupidity,  distraction,  contempt  of  others,  and  jealousy. — Dz  la  Bbu- 

TKRE. 

Correct  the  sentence  from  Legouve,  page  151. 
(v.)   The  sentence  divided  into  two  or  more  setitetices. 

There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  dumb  poet  or  a  handless  painter.  The  essence  of  an  ar- 
tist is  that  he  should  be  articulate.— Swinburne. 

Just  as  it  may  cost  a  strong  man  less  effort  to  carry  a  hundred-weight  from  place  to 
place  at  once,  than  by  a  stone  at  a  time  ;  so,  to  an  active  mind  it  may  be  easier  to  bear 
along  all  the  qualiflcations  of  an  idea  and  at  once  rightly  form  it  when  named,  than  to 
first  imperfectly  c(»iceiTe  such  idea  and  then  carry  back  to  it,  one  by  one,  the  details 


Chap.  XV.]  RELATIVE  CLAUSES.  289 

and  liraiUtionH  afterward  mentioned.  While  conversely,  as  for  a  boy,  the  only  possible 
rootle  of  transferring  a  hundredweight,  is  that  of  taking  it  in  portions  ;  bo,  for  a  weak 
miud,  the  only  poMiUe  mode  of  furmiiig  a  compound  conception  may  be  that  of  build- 
ing It  up  by  carrying  leparately  its  several  parts.— Hkrbbbt  Spbmcss. 

f.  To  Bet  off  Dependent  Clauses^  when  the  connection  is 
not  close. 

(I.)  RdaiiAie  Clauses^  when  iwt  restrictive.  Introduced 
by  the  ZHvi&ible  lielative.  (See  Part  I.,  Adjective  Sen- 
tences.) 

Usage  on  this  point  is  so  uniform  that  the  comma  should  be 
omitted  only  by  those  who  so  construct  their  sentences  as  to  use 
very  few  commas.  (See  page  277.)  It  is  commonly  understood 
that  he  who  writes, 

The  scholar,  who  loves  his  books,  is  to  be  envied, 

uses  the  word  scholar  in  a  general  sense,  implying  that  all  scholars 
love  their  books  and  are  to  be  envied ;  while  to  say 

The  scholar  who  loves  his  books  is  to  be  envied, 

is  to  restrict  the  predicate  to  that  kind  of  scholar  who  does  love  his 
books,  implying  that  there  are  scholars  (in  this  case  using  the  word 
in  the  sense  of  pupil)  who  do  not  love  their  books.  In  the  first 
case,  the  relative  clause  is  descriptive,  mentioning  one  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  a  scholar,  in  a  clause  that  might  be  omitted  without 
changing  the  essential  statement.  In  the  second  case,  the  relative 
clause  is  restrictive,  not  to  be  omitted  without  changing  the  mean- 
ing. Hence  the  observance  of  this  distinction  is  of  great  impor- 
tance. There  are  laws  on  many  statute  books,  the  eflfect  of  which 
has  been  either  lost  or  j)erverted,  because  they  were  drawn  by 
legislators  unfamiliar  with  this  principle.     (See  page  297.) 

Restrictive  clauses.  Introduced  by  the  Lidivisible  Rda- 
live. 

Then  Is  no  tme  orator  who  to  aofe  a  iMro.— Ekxmoh. 

Wit  oonsUU  in  knowing  the  rMMBbtaaoe  of  things  that  differ,  and  the  difference  of 
things  that  are  alike.  — Db  Sriii.. 

Idooation  alone  can  conduct  us  to  that  enjojmant  Which  to  at  once  best  in  qoality 
and  inflalta  ia  qoaatUj.— Mam. 


290  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  IIL 

Brery  school-boy  and  ■choot-iriri  who  hu  arrired  at  the  ag«  of  rdteotton  ooght  to 
know  gometbing  aboat  the  hUtory  of  the  art  of  printing. — If  Ainf. 

Only  the  reftned  and  delicate  pleasnre*  that  spring  from  research  and  edacation  can 
buiUl  up  barriers  between  different  raaka.— Dx  STAiL. 

They  are  never  alone  that  are  aooompanied  with  noUe  thooghta. — 8io«iT. 
Those  who  liTe  on  vanity  moat  not  nnwsonaMy  expaot  to  die  of  mortiflcatlon.  — Maa. 
Sllis. 

But  far  more  nomeroas  was  the  herd  of  such 

Who  think  too  little,  and  who  talk  too  much.— DsTOSir. 

But  every  page  having  an  ample  marge, 
And  every  marge  enclosing  in  the  midst 
A  square  of  text  that  looks  a  little  blot.— TlVHTaov. 
The  art  •(  qoofeatioo  rsqoires  naore  delicacy  in  the  practice  than  those  conceive  who 
can  seo  nothing  more  in  a  quotation  than  an  extract.— I.  Diskaku. 

There  is  a  great  deal  of  unmapped  country  within  nn  which  would  have  to  be  taken 
lalo  aoeomt  in  explanation  of  oor  gnsts  and  storms.— Qsobox  Euot. 

Find  illustrations  on  page  73. 
•    48.  Even  before  restrictive  clauses  a  comma  is  necessary,  when 
the  relative  is  separated  from  its  antecedent  and  likely  to  be  con- 
nected \^'itli  some  other  word.     Thus : 

He  U  a  fool. 
Who  only  sees  the  mischiefs  that  are  past— Bbtakt*8  flkUL 

Clauses  not  restrictive. 

Than  were  very  few  passengers,  who  escaped  without  serious  injury. 

This  means  that  all  the  passengers  were  saved.  Omit  the  comma, 
and  the  meaning  is  that  nearly  all  the  passengers  were  injured. 

Men  of  great  conversational  powers  almost  universally  practise  a  Bort  of  lively  sophis- 
try and  exaggeration,  which  deoeiveft,  for  the  moment,  both  themselves  and  their  audi- 
tors.— Macaulat. 

The  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal. 

The  man  who  laughed  loudly  was  the  thief. 

The  above  restrictive  clauses  may  be  thus  converted  into  non- 
restrictive  : 

Things,  which  are  seen,  appeal  more  directly  to  the  cTiild  than  words,  which  are  only 
heard. 

He  handed  it  to  the  man,  who  laughed  loudly  and  tossed  it  in  the  air. 

Clauses  restrictive  and  non-restrictive  in  the  same  sen- 
tence. 


Chaf.  XV.]  RELATIVE  CLAUSES.  291 

It  wma  th«  Deoe«lty  which  made  me  a  quarrier,  that  taught  me  to  be  a  geologist.— 

HOOH   MiLLKB. 

When  it  Ih  the  head  of  the  family,  who  Ih  tuaatly  the  bread-winner,  that  ia  laid  proK- 
trate. 

It  ia  this  excloaively  national  spirit,  and  the  undisguised  contempt  fur  other  people, 
tbat  the  English  are  so  a(x:ustomed  tu  cxpresn  in  their  manner  and  cunduct,  which  have 
made  as  so  generally  unpopular  on  the  Continent. — H.  Matthews. 

Fleah  is  bat  the  glass  which  holdn  the  dust  that  measures  all  our  time,  which  also 
•hall  be  crumbled  in  dust.— Ucobqb  Hebbebt. 

49.  The  same  distinction  in  relative  clauses  should  be  observed 
in  the  choice  of  the  relative  pronoun.  In  restrictive  clauses,  that 
should  be  used  instead  of  ichichy  or  who. 

In  Worcester's  Dictionary,  some  specifications  are  made  un- 
der this  rule,  as  follows : 

•*  There  are  casc^  in  which  that  in  properly  used  when  applied  to  pornonB,  instead  of 
who:  InL  When  it  follows  the  interrogative  who,  or  an  adjective  in  the  8ii|ierlativc  de- 
gree :  as,  '  Who  that  han  any  sense  of  right  would  reason  thus  ?  '  '  He  was  the  oldest  per- 
son that  I  saw.*  2d.  When  it  follows  the  pronominal  adjective  mme  ;  as,  '  He  was  the 
Mune  man  that  I  saw  before.*  8d.  When  persons  make  but  a  part  of  the  antecedent ;  as, 
'  The  man  and  things  that  he  mentioned.'  4th.  Alter  an  antecedent  introdooed  by  the 
ezpledTe  <l ;  as,  *  It  was  I,  not  he,  that  did  it.*  ** 

Abbott  gives  these  exceptions  : 

(a)  When  the  antecedent  is  defined, «.  g.  by  a  poaseaMTe  case,  modem  English  uses 
who  fautaad  of  that.  It  is  rare,  though  it  would  be  useful,  to  say  "  His  En^Iifih  friends 
that  had  not  aeen  him  *'  for  "  the  English  friend^  or  those  of  his  English  friends,  that 
bad  not  seen  him.*' 

ib)  That  MOunds  ill  when  separated  from  its  verb  and  from  its  antecedents,  and  em- 
^hssizod  by  isolation  :  "There  are  many  person^  that,  though  unKcrupulous,  are  com- 
monly good  tempered,  and  that,  if  not  strongly  incited  by  self  interest,  are  ready  for  the 
moat  part  to  think  of  the  mterest  of  their  neighborti.'*  Shakuapere  frequently  uses  ttho 
after  that  when  the  relative  is  rc|)eateil.     See  "  Shakesperlan  Grammar,**  par.  200. 

(e)  If  the  antecedent  b  qaalifled  by  that,  the  relative  muxt  not  be  that.  Bea'des  other 
eonrideratiaiM,  tiie  rapeUtkm  la  dlsagreeabte.  Addison  ridicules  such  language  aa  "  7%a» 
maark  that  I  made  yoaUrday  la  not  thai  that  I  said  that  I  regretted  that  1  had  made.** 

(4)  That  cannot  be  preoaded  by  a  preposition,  and  hence  thrown  the  preposition  to  the 
end.  "This  is  the  rule  that  I  adhere  fo.**  ThiK  is  perftTtly  good  English,  though  some- 
I  BBneeeiMurily  arolded.  Bat,  with  some  preporitions,  the  construction  is  harsh  ami 
,  «^.  "Tbia  la  tha  mark  that  1  jnmpcd  beyond.""  "  Such  were  the  prejudice)* 
that  ha  roaa  a6oM.**  The  roaaon  ia  that  aoaM  of  thea*  disiqrllMbio  prepoeitions  are  need  as 
advartM,  and,  when  wparatad  from  their  noana,  glre  one  the  Impreaalon  thai  they  ara 


(4)  After  praoomlnal  adjaotivM  oaad  for  peraonal  pronoaM,  BMdera  Bnclidi  pratoa 
who.  "  There  are  many,  ottMra,aeT«ral,thoaa,i»*o  can  taatiiy.tta**  (Hera  there  la  good 
aothorlty  the  other  way.] 

if)  After  lAoi  oaad  aa  a  oonjoaotioa  there  ia  aomekiiDBi  a  diaUke  to  aae  that  aa  a  raia* 
ttva.    8aa(e). 


292  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  III. 

The  distinction  in  the  use  of  that  as  a  restrictive  is  compara- 
tively modem.  Blair  (Lecture  xx.)  censures  Addison  for  writing, 
"  A  man  of  a  polite  imagination  is  let  into  a  great  many  pleasures 
that  the  Milgar  are  not  capable  of  receiving,"  saying,  ••  In  some 
cases  we  are  indeed  obliged  to  use  that  for  a  relative  in  order  to 
avoid  the  ungraceful  repetition  of  which  in  the  same  sentence. 
But  when  we  are  laid  under  no  necessity  of  the  kind,  which  is  always 
the  preferable  word." 

The  following  examples  are  quoted  from  Hodgson's  "  Errors  in 
the  Use  of  English  : " 

It  Is  qnite  dear  that  it  is  not  the  last  weight  raised  which  refnilaten  the  weight  of 
the  letter ;  bat  the  weight  of  the  letter  which  regulates  which  in  the  last  weight  which 
will  be  raised.  -  H.  D.  Maolsod.  (Of  these  four  "  whiches,"  all  but  the  third  should 
be  "  that.") 

There  is  probably  no  one  of  this  ganention  who  bestows  any  thought  upon  the  prob- 
lems of  history  and  politics,  who  will  not  acknowledge  his  indebtedness  to  Mr.  Carlyle.— 
London  Time*.  (Here  Mr.  Hodgson  corrects  the  second  "  who  **  to  "  that ; ''  but  strictly 
both  "  who*  "  should  be  "  thats,"^  and  euphony  would  preserve  the  second  "  who  "  rather 
than  the  first.) 

So  in  page  16,  next  line  to  last,  "that'"  might  well  be  changed  to  "which''  on  ac- 
count of  the  '*  that"  in  the  line  following. 

The  crisis  is  one  of  the  most  bingular  which  [that]  have  ever  occurred. — Economist. 

It  was  this  which  [that]  made  his  sect  so  feared  and  hated  among  certain  classen  in 
Rome.— W.  W.  Stobt. 

But  next  to  the  novelty  and  originality  of  these  tales,  it  was  their  matchless  force  and 
rigor  which  [that]  magnetically  attracted  the  reading  world.— Ei.zE. 

Going  back  to  the  illustrations  of  the  use  of  the  comma  in  rela- 
tive clauses,  page  289,  under  Restrictive  ClauseSy  in  the  quotation 
from  Emei-son  "that  "  should  be  substituted  for  "  who."  In  the 
first  quotation  from  Mann,  "  which  "  is  preferred  to  "that,"  be- 
cause another  "that"  has  just  preceded  "enjoyment."  In  the 
second  quotation  from  Mann,  "who"  should  be  "that."  The 
second  word  in  the  quotation  from  Mrs.  Ellis  should  be  "  that,"  and 
in  the  second  line  from  Drs'den  "as  "  should  in  both  places  be  sub- 
stituted for  "  who."  In  the  last  line  from  Tennyson,  to  omit  the 
comma  and  use  "  that  "  throws  the  emphasis  upon  blot,  while  to 
insert  a  comma  after  "  text "  and  substitute  "  which  "  for  "  that," 
would  leave  the  emphasis  upon  text,  making  the  last  clause  a 
descriptive  after-thought.'  Disraeli  should  have  wTitten  "that" 
instead  of  "who,"  and  if  George  Eliot  retained  "which,"  she 
j&hpuld  have  put  the  comma  before  it.   In  that  case  the  emphasis  of 


Chap.  XV.]  DEPENDENT  CLAUSES.  293 

thought  would  lie  upon  the  statement  that  there  is  an  unmapped 
country  within  us,  while  to  omit  the  comma  and  substitute  "  that " 
for  •*  which "  would  throw  the  emphasis  upon  the  idea  of  ex- 
planation. As  it  stands,  the  sentence  is  therefore  ambiguous. 
Under  Clauses  restrictive  and  non-resti-ictive,  page  291,  in  the  quota- 
tion from  Matthews  **  that "  and  *'  which  "  should  be  transposed. 

Make  corrections  on  pages  75,  81,  216-219. 

With  these  hints,  the  student  should  be  able  to  discriminate  as 
to  the  use  of  the  relatives  ;  and  he  is  urged  to  observe  with  refer- 
ence to  this  rule  all  relative  clauses  he  encounters,  until  the 
distinction  becomes  habitual. 

Find  errors  under  this  head  on  pages  5,  34,  41. 

The  caution  so  often  given  should  here  be  repeated,  that  this  dis- 
crimination is  for  the  student's  own  use — not  for  criticism  of  the 
usage  of  othei-s.  The  careful  writer  and  speaker  will  be  sure  that 
his  restrictive  pronoun  is  "  that,"  except  when  the  previous  use  of 
"that "  as  an  adjective  pronoun  would  make  *'  who  "  or  *'  which " 
more  euphonious.  But  he  will  not  pronounce  a  sentence  ungram- 
matical  that  violates  this  rule;  for  if  he  did  he  might  be  con- 
fronted with  examples  from  almost  every  noted  writer  of  English : 
with  the  entire  quotation  from  Macaulay  (pages  216-219),  for  in- 
stance. 

(II.)  Other  Dependent  Clauses  except  when  so  short  or 
so  immediately  connected  witli  what  precedes  and  follows 
that  the  meaning  is  unmistakable. 

As  has  been  remarked,  the  ideal  sentence  is  so  arranged  that  it 
requires  the  minimum  of  punctuation.  In  some  sentences  the 
arrangement  is  so  faulty  that  punctuation  cannot  remove  the  am- 
biguity.    Thus : 

"  BldiJy,"  Mdd  •  lady  to  her  wrvaint,  •'  I  wW>  you  wonld  ntep  over  and  nee  how  old 
MrM.  Jones  la  thU  morning."  In  a  few  minntm  Biddy  roturnod  with  the  information 
that  Ml*.  Jone*  was  wventy-two  yearn,  ncven  months,  and  tweuty  eight  dayn  old. 

|3i^  Errrj  School  and  Coilag*  in  the  Unitetl  Stotei  shoald  have  a  copy  of  "  Com* 
■took*8 Ootored  Chart"  haadng on  iu  walla,  for  Um  ioitniotUm  of  lU  pvpUfl,  which  will 
be  mppUed  at  lU  par  oaot.  off  of  retail  price,  or  $4.00  each. 

The  rUbag  tomb  a  lofty  ocrinmn  bore.— Pofb. 
And  thou  the  eon  the  fervent  «ire  addre«ed.— Pon. 
He  takse  yonng  children  in  hit  arma, 
And  In  hie  boeom  beara. 


204  THE  COMMA  PERMITTED.  [Part  III. 

In  other  sentences  nnnsual  pnnctnation  may  be  required  to 
make  perspicuous  a  sentence  ambiguously  worded.     Thus  : 

Not  only  Jenlts  oan  equirocate.— Drtdkx. 

Here  a  comma  after  "  only  **  will  make  the  meaning  that  there 
are  other  facts  besides  the  fact  that  Jesuits  can  equivocate.  But 
a  comma  after  Jesuits  "will  make  the  meaning  that  others  besides 
Jesuits  can  equivocate. 


Again 


Tooag  Itylna,  hk  parents'  djurling  joy. 

Whom  chance  misled  the  mother  to  destroy— Pops. 


Here  a  comma  after  "misled*'  will  indicate  that  Itylus  de- 
stroyed his  mother ;  a  comma  after  **  mother,"  that  the  mother 
destroyed  Itylus. 

Again : 

8olom<mf  the  son  of  Darid  who  (  bnilt  the  temple  at  Jenualem, )  was  the  richest 
( was  penecnted  by  Saal,  ) 


Here  to  make  the  upper  clause  of  the  brace  applicable,  a  comma 
must  be  inserted  before  "  who  ;  '*  to  make  the  lower  clause  appli- 
cable the  comma  must  be  omitted,  though  in  this  case  the  "  who  " 
should  properly  be  "  that." 

The  following  sentences,  awkward  and  inelegant  as  ^ey  are, 
may  be  made  by  punctuation  to  express  their  intended  meaning 
unmistakably : 

He  Kaid  I  ooald  not  make  minoe-pies  like  his  mother. 

I  perceived  it  had  been  soonred  with  half  an  eye.— The  Ouardian. 

It  has  not  a  word  but  what  the  author  religiously  thinks  in  it.— PoPK. 

Mr.  Dryden  makes  a  very  handsome  observation  on  Ovid's  writing  a  letter  from  Dido 
to  ^neas  in  the  following  words.— 7%<  Spectator. 

Wanted  :  a  man  to  fit  boots  of  a  good  moral  character. 

The  barber  was  shot  while  shaving  a  customer  with  a  brass-barrelled  pistol. 

The  following  lines  were  written  more  than  fifty  years  ago  by  one  who  has  for  many 
years  slept  in  his  grave  merely  for  his  own  amusement. 

Instead  of  purity  resulting  from  that  arrangement  to  India,  England  itself  wonld 
soon  be  tainted.— Macaclat. 

The  purpose  is  to  bring  the  act  stated  into  prominence.— Alfobd.  quoted  by  HoON. 

I  have  noticed  the  word  "party  "  used  for  an  individual  occurring  in  Shakspere. — Id. 

I  remember  when  the  French  band  of  the  "  Guides  "  were  in  this  country  reading  in 
the  Illustrated  News.— Id. 


Chap.  XV.]  DEPENDENT  CLAUSES.  295 

Th«se  iihrick*,  m  tbey  are  called,  are  scattered  up  and  down  the  page  by  oompoaitort 
without  any  mercy.— /d. 

A  man  does  not  lose  bin  mother  now  in  the  papers.— /rf. 

The  Oreeka,  fearing  to  be  surrounded  on  all  sides,  wheeled  about  and  halted  with  the 
river  on  their  backn.- Ooldsmith. 

In  an  examination  in  the  IIouw  of  Commons  in  18l»9  a  member  said  that  "  the  wit- 
ne«i  had  been  ordered  to  withdraw  from  the  bar  in  oonucqueuce  of  being  intoxicated  by 
the  motion  of  an  honorable  raeniber.''— Ubaham. 

Her  body  being  pickoil  up  was  carried  to  the  residence  of  her  brother  where  she  lived 
in  an  express  wagon. 

In  one  evening  I  counted  twenty-seven  meteors  sitting  on  my  back-piaxza. 

The  remains  were  committed  to  that  bourne  from  which  no  traveller  returns  aooom- 
panied  by  his  friends. 

There  are  some  defects  which  must  be  acknowledged  in  the  dictionary. 

Wanted,  a  young  man  to  take  care  of  a  horse  of  temperate  and  industrious  habits. 

Wanted  :  a  saddle  horse  for  a  lady  weighing  about  1160  jwunds. 

*'  Is  there  a  gentleman  with  one  eye  named  Walker  in  the  club  ?  "— "  I  don't  know; 
what  was  the  name  of  his  other  eye  ? '' 

Mr.  Robinson^  daughter  woh  run  over  by  a  market  wagon  three  years  old  with  sore 
eyes  and  oopper-toed  Bhoes  that  never  spoke  afterward. 

We  have  two  school-rooms  large  enough  to  accommodate  three  hundred  pnpils  one 
above  the  other. 

"  I  don't  want  your  paper  any  longer,''  wrote  an  angry  subscriber.-"  I  wouldn't 
make  it  any  longer  if  yon  did,"  replied  the  editor,  "  for  it  would  involve  a  new  press." 

There  is  a  gift  beyond  the  reach  of  art  of  being  eloquently  silent.— BovKK. 

Just  when  the  comma  may  be  omitted,  and  jnst  when  it  is 
necessary  to  make  clear  the  relations  of  dependent  clauses,  only 
individual  judgment  as  to  the  sentence  involved  can  determine. 
Here  are  a  few  illustrations. 

i.  The  comma  used, 

A  oompUmmt  is  osnaUy  aooompanied  with  a  bow,  as  if  to  beg  pardon  for  saying  it. 
—J.  C.  and  A.  W.  Hahk. 

Method  is  not  less  ncoesHury  in  ordinary  conversation  than  in  writing,  providmg  a 
man  wonM  talk  to  make  himself  nnder^tood.— Addison. 

Olap  an  exUngniahar  npon  your  irony,  if  you  are  unhappily  blest  with  a  vein  of  it.— 

CBAU.MLAKB. 

Histongna 
Dropt  OMuina,  and  could  make  the  wane  appear 
The  batter  reanu,  to  perplex  and  dash 
Mattueat  ooansela.— Miltoii. 

Pve  never  any  pity  for  conceited  people,  becaoae  I  think  they  earry  their  comfort 
about  with  them.— Qbobob  Buot. 

It  ia  i^le  aieoe  by  which  posterity  will  judge  of  a  great  work,  for  an  author  can  have 
oothiaff  tmlj  his  own  but  his  style.— I.  Diskaxu. 


296  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  III. 

50.  Clauses  denoting  canse  or  result  are  frequently  introduced 
by  the  colon,  instead  of  the  comma.    Thus  : 

Let  him  be  kept  from  paper,  pen,  and  ink: 

80  maj  be  oeue  (o  write  and  leara  to  think.— Pbiob. 

With  my  friend  I  dedre  not  to  share  or  participate,  bat  to  engroei  his  sorrows ;  that 
by  making  them  my  own,  I  may  man  easily  discuss  them :  for  in  mine  own  reason,  and 
within  myself,  I  can  command  that  which  I  cannot  entnat  without  myself,  and  within 
the  circle  of  another.— Sia  Thomas  Bbowxk. 

ii.  The  comma  omitted. 

A  man  may  write  at  any  time  if  he  set  himself  doggedly  to  it.— JoHirsov. 
A  man  may  be  as  much  a  fool  from  the  want  of  sensibility  as  the  want  of  sense.— 
Mas.  Jamksoh. 

1 1  is  much  easier  to  be  critical  than  to  be  correct.— Dxsraku. 

Explain  the  use  of  all  the  commas  on  page  156. 

Insert  punctuation  marks  where  required  in  the  following 
paragraphs,  keeping  in  mind  that  proper  names  and  sen- 
tences begin  with  capital  letters,  and  that  the  first  personal 
pronoun  is  always  a  capital  letter. 


A  little  way  below  the  great  fall  the  river  is  comparatively 
speaking  so  tranquil  that  a  ferry-boat  phes  between  the  Canada 
and  american  shores  for  the  convenience  of  travellers  when  i  first 
crossed  the  heaNnng  flood  tossed  about  the  skiff  with  a  violence  that 
seemed  very  alarming  but  as  soon  as  we  gained  the  middle  of  the 
river  my  attention  was  altogether  engaged  by  the  surpassing  gran- 
deur of  the  scene  before  me^i  was  now  within  the  area  of  a  semicir- 
cle of  cataracts  more  than  three  thousand  feet  in  extent  and  floated 
on  the  surface  of  a  gulf  raging  fathomless  and  interminable  majestic 
cliffs  jSplendid  rainbows  lofty  trees  and  columns  of  spray  were  the 
gorgeous  decorations  of  this  theatre  of  wonders^while  a  dazzling 
sun  shed  refulgent  glories  upon  every  part  of  the  scene, surrounded 
with  clouds  of  vapor  and  stunned  into  a  state  of  confusion  and  ter- 
ror by  the  hideous  noise  i  looked  upwards  to  the  height  of  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  feet  and  saw  vast  floods  dense  awful  and  stui)endous 
vehemently  bursting  over  the  precipice  and  rolling  do\m  as  if  the 
windows  of  heaven  were  opened  to  pour  another  deluge  upon  the 


Chap.  XV.]     IMPORTANCE  ILLUSTRATED.  297 

earth^lond  sounds  resembling  discharges  of  artillery  or  volcanic  ex- 
plosions were  now  distinguishable  amidst  the  watery  tumult  and 
added  terrors  to  the  abyss  from  which  they  issued  the  sun  looking 
majestically  through  the  ascending  spray  was  encircled  by  a  radiant 
halo  whilst  fragments  of  rainbows  floated  on  every  side  and  mo- 
mentarily vanished  only  to  give  place  to  a  succession  of  others 
more  brilliant  looking  backwards  i  saw  the  niagara  river  again  be- 
come calm  and  tranquil  rolling  magnificently  between  the  tower- 
ing cliffs  that  rose  on  either  side  and  receiving  showers  of  orient 
dew-drops  from  the  trees  that  gracefully  overarched  its  transpar- 
ent bosom. 

n. 
There  was  not  the  smaUest  accident  that  befell  king  charles  the 
second  in  his  exile  but  cromwell  knew  it  perfectly  well  a  gentle- 
man who  had  served  the  unfortunate  charles  the  first  desired  leave 
of  cromwell  to  travel  and  obtained  it  on  condition  that  he  would 
not  see  charles  stuart  on  arriving  at  cologne  however  the  gentle- 
man broke  his  promise  and  sent  a  message  to  the  exiled  king  re- 
questing that  he  might  wait  on  him  in  the  night  which  was  granted 
hanng  discoursed  fully  on  the  affairs  of  his  mission  he  received  a 
letter  from  the  king  which  he  concealed  within  the  crown  of  his 
hat  and  then  took  his  leave  on  his  return  to  england  he  waited  on 
cromwell  with  confidence  and  being  asked  if  he  liad  punctually 
j>erfonned  his  promise  he  said  he  had  but  said  cromwell  who  was 
it  that  put  out  the  candles  when  you  spoke  to  charles  stuart  this 
unexi)ected  question  startled  him  and  cromwell  proceeding  asked 
him  what  he  said  to  him  to  which  the  gentleman  answered  he  said 
nothing  at  all  but  did  he  not  send  a  letter  by  you  replied  the  pro- 
tector the  gentleman  denying  this  also  cromwell  took  his  hat  from 
him  drew  out  the  letter  and  had  the  unfortunate  messenger  com- 
mitted to  the  tower. 

Illustrations  of  the  Importance  of  Correct 
Punctuation : 

In  itiuLiN.— An  thgvnifPoii  expedient  wm  deriaed  to  «Te  *  priaooer  diarged  with 
roblirrj,  in  the  Criminal  Ooort  at  Dnbttn.  The  prtociiMU  thing  thitt  appeared  in  eri- 
denrc  iigninKt  him  waa  a  ooofearion,  alleged  to  have  been  made  bj  him  at  the  Police 
Office,  and  ukcn  down  in  wriUng  1^  •  poUoe  olBcer.  The  dooament  poiporting  to  con- 
tain thin  Mcif  criminating  acknowlertgwwBl  was  pradoood  bj  Um  oflkwr,  and  the  foUoving 

w«a  mid  f  1  um  it : 


298  PUNCTUATION.  [Pabt  IU. 

**  liMigaa  nid  he  never  robbed  bat  twice 

"  Said  it  WM  Crawford." 

Thi«,  it  will  l)e  obwrved,  ban  no  mark  of  the  writef  ■  having  any  notion  of  pnnctua- 
tioB,  but  the  meaning  be  attached  to  it  was  that 

**  Mangan  wid  he  never  robbed  bat  twice ; 

"  Said  it  wa«  Crawford.'* 

Mr.  O'Gorinan,  the  ouanael  for  the  prisoner,  begged  to  look  at  the  paper.  He  perused 
it,  and  rather  aKtoni^hed  the  peace  offloer  by  asserting  that  ao  far  from  its  proving  the 
manV  guilt,  it  clearly  establliiht'd  his  Innocence. 

This,  said  the  learned  gentleman,  is  the  fair  and  obvious  reading  of  the  sentence  : 

"  Mangan  said  he  never  robbed. 

"  Bat  twice  said  it  was  Crawford.*" 

This  Interpretation  had  its  effect  on  the  jury,  and  the  man  was  acquitted. 

In  Bai^timorb.— a  monthly  magazine,  in  the  midst  of  a  very  valuable  and  elaborate 
article,  makes  the  following  serioas  bnt  very  stupid  criticism  : 

"  It  is  possible  that  the  following,  taken  from  the  edicts  of  the  Association  of 
Baperintendentft  on  the  organization  of  asylnmn,  may  throw  some  light  on  the  means 
taken  to  secure  appointments.  At  a  meeting  held  in  BalUmore,  May,  1853,  the  following 
resolution  was  adopted  :  '  The  Board  of  Trustees  should  be  compoecfl  of  individuals  dis- 
tinguished for  liberality,  intelligence,  and  active  benevolence  :  above  all,  political  influ- 
*nc4.^  It  is  not  singular  that  the  American  i^Rtem  should  become  a  reproach  to  us, 
when  such  a  proposition  is  to  bo  found  among  the  articles  of,**  etc.,  etc. 

The  four  words  in  italics  having  a  comma  in  tlicir  midst,  are  mode  to  say  just  what 
the  bosrd  did  not  say,  and  did  not  intend  to  say  ;  and  the  critic,  unless  intensely  preju- 
diced, must  have  seen  it.  The  meaning  was  that  the  iKiard  should  be  composed  of  men 
''  above  all  political  influence,''  in  order  that  appointments  may  be  made  impartially  and 
on  merit  only.     The  little  comma  makes  the  mischief.— ^Veu»  Vork  Obiterver. 

In  Vermont.— The  Constitution  of  the  State  of  Vermont,  as  printed  in  the  general 
statutes  and  other  official  publicaticuK  for  over  eighty  years,  decljirei»that  "  the  Governor, 
and  in  his  absence,  the  Lieutenant-Governor  **  (in  the  original  Cunstitution  it  was  the 
Governor  and  Council)^  *'  shall  have  power  to  grant  pardons  and  remit  fines,  in  all  cases 
whatsoever,  except  in  treason  and  murder,  in  which  they  shall  have  power  to  grant  re- 
prieves, but  not  to  pardon  until  after  the  end  of  the  next  session  of  the  Assembly."  This 
seems  to  say.  distinctly,  that  the  Governor  shall  not  have  power  to  pardon  traitors  and 
murderers  until  after  the  end  of  the  next  sension  of  Assembly ;  and  by  implication  it 
would  seem  to  follow  that  he  tTMi/  pardon  murderers  after  a  session  has  intervened.  The 
question  as  to  what  the  Constitution  really  means  in  this  matter  came  up  in  conversation 
between  several  gentlemen  in  the  State  Library  at  Montpelier  the  other  day.  Mr.  Abell, 
of  West  Haven,  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  Constitution  did  not  intend  to  give  the  power 
of  pardon  to  the  Governor  at  any  time  in  cases  of  treason  and  murder,  and  he  fonnd  in  a 
volume  of  Vermont  reports  an  opinion  of  Judge  Williams  to  that  effect.  The  point 
was  speedily  settled  by  the  production  by  the  State  Librarian  of  the  first  printed  copy  of 
the  Constitution  (printeti  at  Hartford,  Conn.,  in  1779)  in  which  a  comma  plainly  appejirs 
after  the  word  "  pardon,*'  in  the  sentence  quoted.  This  makes  all  clear.  The  words 
"  bnt  not  to  j-ardon  *'  are  plainly  parenthetical,  and  the  meaning  is  as  plain  as  if  it  read  : 
he  shall  have  power  to  grant  reprieves  (but  not  to  pardon)  until  after  the  end  of  the  next 
session ;  or  he  shall  have  power  to  grant  reprieves  nntil  Jifter  the  end  of  the  next  session, 
but  not  to  pardon.  When  the  Constitution  was  next  printetl,  a  year  or  two  later,  the 
comma  was  omitted,  doubtless  by  a  careless  proof-reader,  and  from  then  till  now  our 
Constitution  has  never  been  correctly  printed. 


Chap.  XV.]  IMPORTANCE  ILLUSTRATED.  2^ 

This  is  not  the  first  case  in  which  a  carelan  omission  or  tnbstitation  of  a  comma  has 
made  an  important  difference  with  the  meaning  and  conBtruction  of  a  law.  The  act  of 
1870,  providing  for  the  aboliiihing  of  school  districts,  as  drawn,  required  each  town  in  the 
State  to  take  action  in  the  next  March  meeting  on  the  cjtiestion  whether  it  would  substi- 
tute the  town  system  for  the  dii^trict  system.  The  Legislature  intended  that  each  town 
should  have  the  subject  up  in  town  meeting  and  teke  definite  action  upon  it ;  but  a 
blundering  engrossing  clerk  put  in  a  comma  where  none  belonged,  and  the  act  as  passed 
left  it  optional  with  the  selectmen  to  put  an  article  in  the  warnings  in  reference  to  the 
school  systems  or  not.  And  in  point  of  fact  not  a  dozen  towns  in  the  State  acted  on  the 
qixMtion.— Burlington  Free  Pre9$. 

Ik  N«w  York.— WTien  the  general  corporation  tax  act  was  under  consideration 
In  the  Senate  an  amendment  was  inserted  which  exempted  from  taxation  under  it 
"all  manulactarinj;  and  mining  corporations."  .\fterward,  while  the  bill  was  in 
the  hand:)  of  a  conference  committee,  it  was  decided  to  except  from  this  exemption 
mining  companies  doing  business  in  other  States,  but  organized  in  this  State,  and 
the  exemption  proviso  was  changed  to  read  bo  as  to  exempt  "  manufacturing  com- 
panies, and  mining  companies  carrying  on  business  in  this  State."  The  amendment 
appears  with  a  distinct  comma  after  the  words  "  manufacturing  companies,"  hut  in 
engrosiiDg  the  reference  committee's  amendments  into  the  bill  the  Assembly  clerk 
left  out  the  comma,  and  the  bill  as  signed  by  the  Oovcmor  and  filed  in  the  ofllce  of 
the  Secretary  of  State  reads  so  as  to  exempt  "  manufacturing  companies  and  mining 
companies  carrying  on  business  in  this  State."  Tho»je  manufacturing  companies, 
therefore,  which  have  organized  in  this  State  to  carry  on  business  elsewhere  are 
liable  under  the  law  to  a  tax  of  $100  on  every  $100,000  capital.  In  the  case  of  one 
company  alone,  a  glucose  manufacturing  concern,  this  tax  will  be  $15,000  a  year.— 
JVetr  Tork  Tribune. 

[The  error  in  this  illustration  is  perhaps  the  most  commonly  dangerous  in  the  use 
of  conunas.  In  the  first  illuntration  given  the  meaning  attached  by  the  peace  oflScer 
required  the  suppression  of  the  subjiH:t  of  the  second  verb  ;  and  though  the  sentence 
as  a  whole  reads  Intelligibly  when  the  pause  is  made  after  "  twice,"  it  reads  more 
naturally  when  the  pause  is  made  after  "  robbed."  In  the  second  illustration,  the 
comma  after  "aboreall"  requires  the  insertion  of  "  for "  before  "political  influ- 
ence" (see  page  Ivi) ;  so  that  if  the  illustration  a^s  printed  was  drawn  by  a  person 
carefkil  in  his  use  of  English,  one  might  be  sure  it  was  erroneously  reported.  In  the 
third  illustration ,  the  omission  of  the  comma  after  "  pardon  "  makes  at  best  an 
obaeore  tentaBoe.  Bat  in  this  illnstration  there  is  absolutely  nothing  except  the 
preaaace  or  tiM  abMiice  of  the  comma  to  indicate  tbe  meaning  of  the  law-makers. 
In  either  form,  tbe  aeateaco  is  correct  and  perapicaoiu.    Sse  page  870,  B.] 

Ox  'CaAMui.— Into  Uie  action,  the  ociidnal  question  of  the  guilt  or  innocence  of  Mr. 
Bewdl  does  not  enter.  It  is  the  regularity  or  irregnlarity  of  the  actkm  of  tbe  Ooreming 
Oomnittee  and  tbe  officers  of  the  Exchange  thereupon  which  is  at  issue,  and  practically 
may  be  called  a  qoastioa  of  a  comma.  It  all  hinges  on  the  reading  of  Article  XX  of  the 
Oonstitatlon  ct  tbe  New  York  Stock  Exchange,  which  is : 

Rhoakl  any  member  be  Ruiity  of  nbvioas  fnnH  -f  ..  »....k  .»..  n^..^-„:....  o  .T,n,jtteo 

shall  be  tbe  Juidge,  be  shall,  open  oonvictiaii  tb«r>  tneni- 

ben  of  the  said  ooeunittee  present,  be  ezpellfd,  <>  i  t,,  the 

■xobange;  sobjeot,  however,  to  tbe  provisk>as  ui  ........  .....  ion  as 

regards  tbe  cUiffls  of  members  of  the  Bzcbange,  who  ara  crwUtora  u( 


300  PUNCTUATION.  [Part  III. 

John  L.  Logan,  Mr.  Seweir*  lawyer,  discassing  the  cane,  mid  : 

.  ,  .  "  It  l«  a  plain  question  of  law  only.  We  claim  that  the  plain  meaning  of  Ar- 
doleZX.  is  that  it  nxjuiresa  vote  of  two-thirds  of  the  Governing  Committee  present  to 
oonriot  a  member  of  obvious  fraud,  and  that  no  Huch  vote  was  had  in  Mr.  Sewell's  case. 
There  was  simply  a  majority  vote  on  his  conviction.  The  two-thirds  vote  obtained  was 
on  his  expulsion.  In  their  answer  the  defendants  admit  every  material  point  claimed  by 
us  except  the  legal  one  which  we  make  an  to  the  construction  of  that  article.  From  our 
point  of  view  no  person  oonvorsant  with  the  English  language  can  doubt  that  our  reading 
Is  the  correct  one."  .  .  .  Robert  8ewelU  who  repre^ntt  the  Stock  Exchange,  said : 
*'  We  contend  that  to  a  |>roper  understanding  of  Article  XX.  the  words  upon  conviction 
thereqfmre  entirely  superflnons,  and  upon  well-grounded  rules  of  grammatical  ronstruc- 
tion,  the  vvb  tkall  gorenu  b*  txpelUd,  to  that  It  might  read,  thaU  by  a  vou  of  two-thirds 
i^fthe  tatd  committee  pruent,  be  expelled,"— Ne^g  X^f^i^  ^^ 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

RULES  DEPENDENT  ON  JUDGMENT. 

VIII.  The  Comma  may  be  used — 

a.  To  separate  adverbial  phrases  tliat  break  connection,  p.  279. 

i.  Commas  required,  p.  279. 

ii.  Commas  not  required,  p.  279. 
iii.  Commas  used  or  not  according  to  taste,  p.  280. 
iv.  Commas  used  or  not  according  to  meaning,  p.  280. 

37.  Adverbs  distinguished  from  conjunctions,  p.  281. 

b.  To  separate  the  subject  from  the  predicate,  only  wlien — 

i.  The  subject  ends  with  a  verb,  p.  282. 
ii.  The  subject  is  long  and  involved,  p.  282. 

38.  Use  of  the  comma  sometimes  imperative,  p.  283. 

39.  Comma  sometimes  compels  attention,  p.  281 

40.  Punctuation  of  a  subject  of  several  clauses,  p  283. 

c.  To  separate  the  object  from  the  predicate,  only  to  relieve  from 

manifest  ambiguity,  p.  284. 

d.  Before  *'  that,"  introducing  several  propositions,  p.  284. 

41.  Before  "that"  after  "maxim,"  "rule,"  "fact,"  etc., 

p.  284. 

42.  Before  "that"  after  the  verb  "to  be,"  p.  284. 

43.  Before  "that"  when  the  introductory  clause  is  long, 

p.  284. 

e.  To  separate  co-ordinate  clauses,  where  each  thought  is  distinct, 

p.  284. 


Chap.  XV.]  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  301 

i.  No  point  nsed,  p.  285. 
ii.  The  comma  used,  p.  2S6.  • 
iii.  The  semicolon  used,  p.  286. 

44.  Clauses  divided  by  commas  are  separated  by  semi* 

colons,  p.  287. 
It.  The  colon  used,  p.  287. 

45.  Clauses  divided  by  semicolons  are  separated  by  colons, 

p.  288. 

46.  The  colon  often  separates  a  summarizing  clause,  p.  288. 

47.  Namdy^  as,  etc. ,  preceded  by  a  semicolon  and  followed 

by  a  comma,  p.  288. 
y.  The  sentence  divided  into  two  or  more  sentences,  p.  288. 
f.  To  set  off  dependent  clauses  when  the  connection  is  not  close,  p. 
289. 
i.  Relative  clauses  when  not  restrictive,  p.  289, 

48.  Rarely,  to  separate  restrictive  clauses,  p.  290. 

49.  Distinction  in  the  use  of  the  relative  pronouns,  p.  291. 
Ii  Other  dependent  clauses,  unless  the  meaning  is  unmis- 
takable, p.  293. 

i.  The  comma  used,  p.  295. 
60.  Clauses  denoting  cause  or  result  often  require  the 

colon,  p.  296. 
IL  The  comma  OMitted,  p.  296. 


PART  IV. 

THE  ESSAY 


PART  IV. 

THE  ESSAY. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

PREPARATION. 

Speak  not  at  all  in  anywiae  until  yon  have  tomewhat  to  speak ;  care  not  so  mnch  for 
the  reward  of  yoor  apeaking,  bat  simply  and  with  undivided  mind  for  the  trath  of  your 
•peaking. —€  A  RLTLK. 

Reproduction  vs.  Creation. — Thus  far  the  stu- 
dent has  been  diiected  toward  the  expression  of  ideas  al- 
ready conceived.  In  Conversation  one  gets  new  thoughts ; 
he  develops  and  defines  his  own  :  but  the  material  he  uses 
is  the  accumulation  of  his  previous  life,  the  sum-total  of 
his  culture  to  the  moment  of  speaking ;  instruction  can  do 
little  more  than  lielp  him  to  make  this  material  available. 
In  Letter-Writing,  and  in  Narration  and  Description  car- 
ried beyond  correspondence  into  more  formal  literature, 
the  material  is  still  experience — what  one  has  seen  and 
heard  and  felt.  The  most  one  can  hope  is  perfectly  to  re- 
produce. 

But  in  the  Essay  one  creates.  The  first  task  is  not  to 
express  ideas,  but  to  get  them.  The  essay  is  at  basis  a 
judgment.     To  describe  intelligently  an  occurrence  or  a 


^^^  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV. 

scene,  one  needs  principally  to  have  observed  keenly,  and 
to  have  remembered  discriminatingly.  But  to  write  an 
essay,  one  should  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  sub- 
ject itself  and  with  what  others  have  said  of  it,  should 
have  pondered  it,  should  have  reached  a  definite  opinion, 
and  should  be  able  to  maintain  that  opinion.  This  involves 
another  and  a  higher  set  of  faculties,  a  different  and  a 
more  difficult  labor. 


SELECTING  A  SUBJECT. 

Proper  Subjects  for  Composition. — Hence  the  early  composi- 
tions of  pupils  should  be  based  on  narration  and  description.  Ab- 
stract general  topics  are  meaningless  to  them.  Few  first  efforts  of 
the  kind  have  the  vigor  of  one  recalled  at  an  Oberlin  commence- 
ment: 

About  nr<M<.— Virtue  is  a  good  thing  to  get  a  holt  of.  Whenever  a  feller  gets  a  holt 
of  virtue,  he  better  keep  a  holt. 

Bombastic  Commonplaces. — Many  pupils  put  together  a  compo- 
sition as  they  would  a  bouquet,  seeking  in  memory  or  in  books 
for  elegant  phrases  to  arrange,  and  as  little  undertaking  to  ori- 
ginate an  idea  as  to  constmct  a  moss-rose.  Hence  the  humorist 
does  not  need  to  exaggerate  when  he  calls  the  following  * '  Phono- 
graphic Echoes  from  Commencement." 

Man  is  the  architect  of  his  own  fortunes.  In  all  the  sweeping  currents  of  human 
evcntR,  in  all  the  aspirations  and  ambitions  of  other  ages,  h^w  nobly — 

Night  brings  out  the  stars.  [It  also  brings  out  the  bugs,  but  the  essay  neglected  to 
say  so. — Ed.]  It  is  only  when  sorrow  and  mi^ortune  have  darkened  our  lives  that  the 
brighter  traits  of  character,  the  Godlike  instincts  of  man's  nature  shine  forth  amid  the 
surrounding  gloom,  like — 

The  pre«8  and  the  ballot-box,  the  great  palladium  of  human  liberty,  what  power  is 
theirs  in  moulding  tlie  national  characteristics,  what  has  been  their  influence  as  agents  of 
civilization,  what  do  we  see — 

As  we  glance  back  across  the  wide  unfolding  centuries  that  stretch  between  us  and 
the  buried  ages  of  the  past,  how  the  ruins  and  ^Tecks  of  the  grandeur  of  man  in  his  proud- 
est estate,  in  his — 

Life,  like  a  mighty  river,  springing  in  unseen  fountains  deep  in  some  mountain  glen, 
meandering,  a  ceaseless  sparkling  rivulet,  through  verdant  meadows  and  adown  many 
Bteeps,  and  at  length— 


Chap.  XVL]  COMMENCEMENT  ECHOES.  307 

To-d«7  we  Mtand  npon  the  thre«hold  of  life,  ready  to  crom  it  with  impatient  feet,  and 
as  we  strain  our  eyes  to  pierce  the  curtain  of  the  future,  our  heart*  tell  us  that — 

What  man  ha«  ilone,  man  can  do.  All  that  the  past  has  taught  un,  all  that  the  lives  of 
the  great  and  good  in  other  ages  have  dune  fur  us,  all  that  the  pages  of  history,  in  the 
stormy  times  of  old — 

Thnc}-dides.  towering  high  above  ordinary  men  in  an  age  that  countctl  among  its 
leaders  and  teachers  such  poets  and  artists  and  statesmen  as  Sophocles  and  i^schylus, 
Phidias,  Zeuxis  aud  Parrhasius,  Herodotus  and  Xenophon,  Thucydides,  himself  gnat 
among  the  great,  is  said  to  have  remarked — 

But  what,  let  us  ask  ourselves,  were  the  motives  of  Alexander  in  these  brilliant 
achirvements  ?  When  we  consider  that  no  other  conqueror  ever  effected  so  much  in  so 
short  a  time,  and  when  we  reflect  that  the  only  motive  that  le<l  him  to  carry  war  and 
bloodshed  and  terror  into  almost  every  part  of  the  then  known  world,  was  cold,  selfish, 
inhuman  ambition,  we  are  led  to  exclaim  with  the  immortal  Wafshington— 

"  Heaven  from  all  creatures  hide*  the  book  of  fitU.""  And  although  often  we  would 
fain  penetrate  the  reil  of  the  future,  yet  at  length,  in  the  wisdom  of  riper  years,  taught  in 
the  rugged  school  of  experience,  we  yield  to— 

Man,  helpless  in  himself,  untaught  by  the  instinct  of  the  lower  animals,  incapable  in 
his  natural  condition  of  protecting  himself,  a  prey  to  the  elements  and  at  the  mercy  of 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  yet  aided,  developed,  and  elevated  by  the  en  ating  art  of  his  own 
brain  and  the  skill  of  his  own  hunds,  he  is  found — 

Among  the  ancient  Greeks,  where  wisdom,  statesmanship,  and  nrt  have  been  handed 
down  to  us  through  the  centnrieii,  it  was  considered  one  of  the  highest  and  first  duties  of 
the  riliten  to  piovide  for — 

Woman,  heaven's  last,  )  est  gift  to  man,  what  is  her  mission?  What  is  the  life-work 
waitine  for  her  <  arnest,  patient  hands  ?  The  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  tnily  may  shake 
the  world  :  her  stn>ngth  is  gentleness,  her  ruumge  is  confidence,  and  she  walks — 

On  the  broad  ocean  of  liTe  wp  launch  oiir  bark  fearlessly  ;  we  face  the  storms  as  we 
welcome  the  sunlighr,  and  serene  and  confident  amid  the  changing  currents  and  baffling 
winds,  we  spr  ad  our  sails  nnd  Imldly  hold  onr — 

Knows  be,  who  knot  cth  himself,  the  first  principles  of  human  knowledge  ?  The  man 
who— 

Blows  the  wind  never  no  ill  that  it  blows  no  good  to  some  one.  Across  the  broad  ocean 
of  life,  into  our  very  faces  the  tempests  may  howl,  but  the  fearless  sailor  meeto  the  stonn 
and  calmly  trims  his — 

Corn  is  king.  To^sy  more  than  ever  before,  the  agrlcaltural  interests  of  thecoontry 
are  overshadowing  all  others,  until  as  we  contemplate  them  in  their  immenslly— 

We  say  farewell.  To  yon,  whose  patience  and  wisdom  has  led  as  with  gentle  hands 
•long  the  diisy  steepa  o<  loMmlng's  hill,  and  to  yon,  dear  classmates,  whose  cheerful— 

Familiar  Subjects.— 'Moreover  the  narration  and  description 
should  Imj  abont  wimt  immediately  concerns  or  has  impressed  the 
pnpil. 

SymiMithy  witli  childhood  will  keep  ever  in  mind  tliat  the 
youthful  ima^nation  is  tu^'tr,  active,  but  limited.  This  last  fact 
is  iniiH)rtAnt,  but  it  is  often  forgotten.  Some  verses  which  have 
been  the  rounds  of  the  newspaijers  illustrate  it : 


308 


SELECTING  A  SUBJECT.  [Part  IV. 

I  WK  sittinf?  In  the  twilight, 

With  my  Chariey  on  mj  knee 
(Little  two-year-old,  fbrerer 

TeMing,  "  Talk  a  ^toty,  peaae,  to  me^y^ 
*♦  Now,"  I  nid,  "  talk  me  a  'tory," 

"  Well."  reflectlvaly,  *'  VM  *meno«. 
Mamma,  I  did  ace  a  kiUy, 

Oreat— big— kitty,  on  the  fence.** 


unilee.     Five  little  flngen 

Cover  up  her  laughing  lipc. 
'^iBoolaughbig?"    '•  Yea,"  I  teU  him. 

Bat  I  kisH  the  finger  tipa, 
And  I  aay,  "Now,  tell  another/' 

"  Well,"  all  emilee,  "  now  I  will  'menoa. 
Mamma,  I  did  aee  a  doggie, 

Great— hig— doggie,  on  the  fence." 

"  Rather  idmilar,  yoor  storiea, 

Aren't  they,  dear  ?  "   A  sober  look 
Swept  acrom  the  pretty  forehead. 

Then  he  sudden  oonrage  took, 
'*  But  I  know  a  nice,  new  tory, 

splendid,  mamma  !     Hear  me  'menoe. 
Mnmma,  I — did — see — a — elfunt. 

Great— big— clfunt,  on  the  fence  I  " 

Active  and  bold  as  is  little  Charley's  imagination,  it  is  limited 
Cat,  dog,  and  elephant  are  all  sitting  on  the  fence. 

Moreover,  children's  ideas  of  the  relations  of  things  are  of  the 
vaguest,  as  their  interminable  questions  are  continually  showing. 

One  day  I  Rat  in  a  car  sent  on  the  SauguR  branch  of  the  Eastern  road  behind  a  pale, 
care  worn  lady  who  was  taking  a  little  boy  from  Boston  to  Maiden.  As  the  little  boy  was 
of  a  very  inquiring  mind,  and  everything  seemed  to  attract  his  atteution,  I  could  not 
help  listening  to  some  of  his  questions. 

*'  What  is  that,  auntie  f  "  the  little  boy  commenced,  pointing  to  a  atack  of  hay  on  the 
marsh. 

*'  Oh,  that's  hay,  dear,"  answered  the  care-worn  woman. 

"  What  is  hay,  auntie  ?  " 

*'  Why,  hay  is  hay,  dear." 

'•  But  what  iR  hay  made  of  ?  " 

*'  Why,  hay  is  made  of  dirt  and  water  and  air." 

*•  Who  makes  it  ?  " 

*'  God  makes  it,  dear." 

"  Does  he  make  it  in  the  day-time  or  in  the  night  f" 

*'  In  both,  dear.*' 

"And  Sundays?" 

"  Yes,  all  the  time." 

"  Ain*t  it  wicked  to  make  hay  on  Sunday,  auntie?" 


Chap.  XVI.]  CHILDREN'S  IDEAS.  309 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.    Td  ke*p  rtlll,  Willie,  that's  a  dear.    Auntie  is  tired," 
After  remaining  qaiet  a  raument,  little  Willie  broke  out : 
"  Where  do  stars  come  from,  auntie  ?  " 
"  I  don't  know  ;  nobody  knows." 
•'  Did  the  moon  lay  'em  t " 
*'  Yes,  I  Kuess  so,"  replied  the  wicked  lady. 
"  Can  the  moon  lay  egg^  too  ?  " 
»*  I  Ruppoee  so.     Don't  bother  me  !  " 
A  short  silence,  when  Willie  broke  out  again  : 
"  Bonny  says  oxins  is  an  owl,  auntie  :  is  they  ?  " 
"Oh,  |H>rhap8  so  ! '' 

"  I  think  a  whale  could  lay  eggs—  don't  you,  auntie  ?  '* 
"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  guess  so,"  said  the  shameless  woman. 
"  Did  you  ever  see  a  whale  on  his  nest  ?  " 
**  Oh,  I  guess  so." 
"Where?" 

•'  I  mean  no.    Willie,  you  must  be  quiet ;  I'm  getting  crazy  1 " 
"  What  makes  yon  crazy,  auntie  ?  " 
"  Oh,  dear,  you  ask  so  many  questions." 
"  Did  you  ever  see  a  little  fly  eat  sugar  1 " 
"  Yea,  dear." 
"Where?" 

"  Willie,  sit  down  on  the  seat  and  be  still  or  I'll  shake  you.   Now,  not  another  word  I  ** 
And  the  la<ly  pointed  her  finger  sharply  at  the  little  boy,  as  if  she  was  going  to 
stick  it  through  him. 

There  are  8,000,000  Uttle  boys  like  WUU«  in  the  United  States.— i7roc(on  UOMtUe, 

This  is  shown  by  the  inconsecntiveness  characteristic  of  com- 
poeitions  on  any  but  thoroughly  familiar  subjects.     Thus : 

THE  ELEPHANT. 

The  elephant  is  very  largo  and  weighs  four  or  five  pounds.  He  is  so  itrong  that  h« 
can  carry  a  trunk,  and  people  build  houses  on  his  back.  His  legs  are  as  Urge  as  pillown, 
and  his  tnink  is  mads  of  knife-handles  and  other  things  carved  out  of  ivory.  He  is  very 
wild  and  fierce,  and  he  is  easily  frightened  by  the  sight  of  man,  but  hs  can  climb  up  a 
trae.    He  is  also  very  nun*. 

THE  PARRAOUT  PAGEANT. 

Farragut  Pageant  was  a  rery  wise  man  and  a  great  war  man  to,  ha  would  flght  the 
battle  the  best  of  any  man,  and  most  always  he  spent  his  time  on  the  sea. 

Admiral  Fatragnt  he  was  an  oferrer  of  the  navy,  he  wns  very  much  respected  by  his 
men  he  died  a  good  ohrisuin  his  Family  to  prusesion  of  his  fumel  he  was  laid  In  his 
rsatinc  last  (riday.— lovingly  bear  the  nation's  dead  in  battle  or  peace  he  was  still  the 
same  ever  most  true  to  his  countr}'s  call  all  honor  to  farragnU  noble  name  loved  by  the 
lovely  rerered  by  all  tenderly  lay  hint  down  to  rttit  scatti-r  sweet  flowers  oer  his  brest 
<lroop  tbeproad  banner  he  bravrly  defcndf«l  B<M)m  the  lond  gun  for  the  noble  lofe  ended. 

Sugge»tionn. — An  ex])criencetl  teachor  says  ;  "  The  wise  com- 
position  teacher  will  stiive  to  enlist  in  behalf  of  his  own  depart- 


310  SELECTING  A  SUBJECT.  [Part  IV. 

ment  the  pleaanre  and  delight  of  acquisition  so  natural  to  youth. 
His  way  to  accomplish  this  is  clear,  but  not  always  easy.  He  must 
know  what  things  his  boys  and  girls  will  take  pleasure  in  finding 
out,  and  must  be  able  to  guide  them  to  the  sources  of  knowledge. 
Then  he  must  catch  the  favorable  moment,  when  some  interesting 
item  of  knowledge  is  in  the  pupil's  mind,  in  its  nascent  state,  and 
secure  a  composition.  The  main  thing  in  a  good  composition  is 
that  it  be  original  and  8ix)ntaneous.  Therefore  give  the  pupil 
something  to  discover ;  and  wliile  the  discovery  is  still  fresh,  and 
his  mind  is  still  warm  with  it,  let  him  report.     .     .     . 

**  I  have  had  good  compositions  written  on  such  themes  as  these : 
— I  have  invited  my  pupils  to  explore  the  interesting  features  of 
Boston,  its  antiquities,  its  hospitals,  its  charities,  its  museums, 
and  to  report  to  the  class  what  they  had  learned.  This  takes  them 
out  of  a  Saturday  forenoon  or  afternoon,  and  almost  invariably 
makes  a  g^sh  of  material  for  a  composition.  Such  compositions 
have  an  interesting  objective  character.  They  ai*e  flavored  with 
the  realities  of  life.  One  pair  of  girls — they  usually  go  in  pairs  of 
course — at  the  Historical  Society's  rooms  last  year  met  the  Mayor, 
who  took  an  interest  in  their  errand  and  showed  them  memorable 
attentions.  Another  pair,  at  the  old  State  House,  were  frightened 
to  find  the  Bostonian  Society  in  session,  but  nevertheless  they 
were  made  welcome  and  were  shown  evervthing.  They  have  been 
even  so  far  as  Pilgrim  Hall  in  Pl^Tnouth,  and  have  enlarged  their 
knowledge  in  the  most  legitimate  way.  When  Rev.  Edward  E. 
Hale  took  a  class  of  them  out  to  Concord,  composition  matter  was 
created  in  unmanageable  quantities.  In  the  hosiDitals  their  sym- 
pathies were  moved.  So  also  in  the  institutions  for  the  relief  of 
poverty,  for  the  care  of  infants,  for  the  protection  of  the  helpless. 
These  girls  are  to  become  women.  The  knowledge  of  most  worih 
to  women  is  not  all  conveyed  in  the  school  curriculum.  Some 
little  true  glimpse  of  life  and  its  realities  they  can  get  in  this 
way. 

"In  the  pleasant  months  pupils  should  be  encouraged  to  get 
their  themes  out  of  doors.  What  is  the  Bussey  Institution? 
What  are  the  Middlesex  Fells  ?  A  Search  for  Heijaticas,  or  for 
Arbutus  :  How  to  Show  Boston  to  a  Stranger  :  Parker  Hill :  His- 
torical Reminiscences  of  my  Walk  to  School,  etc.,  etc.'* 


W  I 


THE  KIND  OP  SUBJECT.  31  I 


The  Topic  to  be  Discussed. — It  is  a  general 
rule  that  the  subject  should  be  something  in  which  one 
already  has  a  real  interest.  Indeed,  it  will  seem  more 
practical  if  one  has  already  a  pronounced  opinion  upon  it, 
especially  an  opinion  that  has  met  with  opposition.  Thus, 
whether  it  has  improved  the  game  of  base-ball  that  every 
pitch  is  either  a  ''call  '•  or  a  "strike'';  whether  it  is  worth 
a  boy's  while  to  go  to  college ;  whether  the  modem  circus  is 
a  benefit  to  the  public ;  whether  Jo  was  the  best  worth 
knowing  of  the  ''  Little  Women ; "  whether  the  horse-cars 
ought  to  nin  on  Sunday  :  questions  Like  these,  which  have 
been  topics  of  discussion  already,  will  assume  a  reality  in 
the  essay  that  would  be  wanting  to  themes  further  re- 
moved from  the  pupil's  daily  thought. 

On  the  other  hand,  care  must  be  taken  that  these  topics  receive 
a  treatment  neither  personal  nor  trivial.  While  the  subject  should 
be  associated  as  closely  as  practicable  with  the  pupil's  daily  life 
and  thought,  it  should  never  lack  dignity.  It  may  be  upon  an 
every-day  subject,  but  it  should  call  forth  the  pupil's  best  effort. 

Literary  and  Historical  Subjects  have  a  certain 
advantage,  providing  the  book  or  the  event  be  thoroughly 
familiar.  No  one  can  study  carefully  the  story  of  Charles  I. 
without  forming  an  opinion  as  to  whether  or  not  it  was 
right  to  e.xecute  him.  If  the  reading  has  been  extensive 
enough,  it  will  prove  an  interesting  and  profitable  task 
to  meet  upon  either  side  of  the  question  the  arguments 
brought  forward  on  the  other.  But  such  topics  must  be 
limited  and  specific. 

I  would  not  assign  to  a  girl  of  fifteen  as  a  theme  for  a  compo- 
sition, '*  Ignatius  Loyola,"  and  then  a<l\'ise  her  to  consult  Banke's 
••  History  of  the  Popes  "  to  get  the  neetlotl  information.  The  girl 
of  fifteen,  as  I  know  her,  would  not  do  more  than  transfer  some- 
thing from  Ranke  to  her  own  pages :  she  would  care  nothing  for 


312  SELECTING  A  SUBJECT.  [Part  IV. 

Loyola.  You  would  get  a  composition  ;  you  would  mark  it ;  but 
you  must  have  been  asleep  if  you  thought  it  did  the  girl  any 
good. 

The  composition  must  first  of  all  be  original.  Therefore  the 
theme  must  be  such  as  high-school  youth  can  treat  originally.  I 
saw  a  girl  the  other  day  in  her  home  making  a  composition  on 
*'  John  Milton  " — a  very  bad  kind  of  theme.  She  held  in  her  left 
hand  Brooke's  **  Milton  "  and  in  her  right  her  pen.  The  mental 
process  that  was  going  ou  was  not  composition.  The  reason  why 
John  Milton  was  a  bad  theme  was  that  it  was  too  vast.  Unless 
prevented  by  vigilant  8ui>er>4sion,  pupils  will  even  write  on  authors 
of  whose  works  they  have  read  nothing,  drawing  solely  from  en- 
cyclopaedia articles  and  similar  sources. 

Pupils  ought  to  learn  the  ethics  of  authorship.  There  is  no 
rule  requiring  an  essay  to  be  brilliant :  but  it  must  be  honest.  A 
pupil  writes,  e.g.,  on  Goldsmith's  '*  Traveller."  She  remarks  that 
**  the  Traveller  is  the  most  ambitious  of  all  Gold.smith'8  poems," 
and  yet  she  has  not  read  another  one.  This  affectation  of  general- 
izing taints  many  a  juvenile  production.  The  exercise  becomes 
morally  injurious  unless  the  teacher  reproves  and  prohibits  such 
transgressions,  calling  them  by  their  right  names. — S.  Thurbeb. 

The  obvions  and  the  only  preventive  of  the  evils  which  I  have  been  speaking  of  is  a 
moRt  scrupulous  care  in  the  selection  of  such  Hul>jocts  for  exercises  as  are  likely  to  be  in- 
teresting to  the  Btudcnt,  and  on  which  he  has  (or  may  with  pleasure,  and  without  much 
toil,  acquire)  sufficient  information.  Such  subjects  will  of  coar;^  vary,  according  to  the 
leamerVs  age  and  intellectual  advancement ;  but  they  had  better  be  rather  below,  than 
much  above  him  ;  that  is,  they  sliould  never  be  such  as  to  induce  him  to  string  together 
vague  general  expressions,  conveying  no  distinct  idea?  to  hip  own  mind,  and  second-hand 
sentiments  which  he  does  not  feel.  He  may  freely  transplant  indeed  from  other  writers 
such  thoughts  as  will  take  root  in  the  soil  of  his  own  mind ;  but  he  must  never  be  tempted 
to  collect  dried  specimens. — Whatei^t. 

How  to  Subdivide  a  Subject. — One  of  the  first 
habits  to  be  acquired  is  that  of  examining  a  subject  in 
different  aspects,  and  selecting  some  feature  limited 
enough  in  scope  to  be  treated  intelligently  within  a  given 
limit. 

Claude's  **  Topics.  "—The  following  "Topics  to  Open  Sources 
of  Observation  "  are  often  quoted  from  the  "  Essay  on  the  Compo- 
sition of  a  Sermon,"  by  the  Rev.  John  Claude; 


Chap.  XVI.]  SUBDIVISION.  313 

I.  "  Biae  from  ipeetos  to  gennB,"^  or  from  partioolors  to  generaU. 

%.  "  Deaoend  from  genus  to  species,"  or  from  generals  to  particalars. 

8.  '*  Bemark  the  divers  characters  of  a  vice  which  is  forbidden,  or  a  virtue  which  is 
oommended,*'  <.«.,  the  qualities,  characteristics,  and  concomitants  of  vices  and  virtues. 

4.  "  Observe  the  relation  of  one  subject  to  another." 

6.  "  Observe  whether  some  things  are  not  supposed  which  are  not  czprened,"  e.g., 
when  wc  speak  of  a  change,  the  terminus  from  which  neoeasarily  soppoaes  the  terminus 
to  which,  and  so  the  reverse. 

6.  '*  Reflect  on  the  persons  speaking  or  acting,"  on  their  office,  country,  education, 
name,  character,  etc. 

7.  **  ileflcct  on  the  state  of  the  persons  speaking  or  acting,"  i.e.,  the  condition,  or  cir- 
oumstanccH,  or  moo<l  of  mind  of  the  person. 

8.  "  Bemark  the  time  of  a  word  or  action,"  including  the  time  when  a  precept  is  to 
be  observed. 

9.  '' Observe  place." 

10.  "  Connidor  the  persons  addressed." 

II.  "  Examine  the  particular  state  of  the  persons  addressed." 

12.  "Consider  the  principles  of  a  word  or  action,"  i.e.,  from  what  motive,  affection, 
passion,  or  conviction,  the  person  spoke  or  acted. 

13.  "Consider  consoquenoee,"  i.e.,  the  uses  or  abuses  of  a  doctrine,  the  applications 
or  perversions,  the  influence  or  tendency  of  truths,  errors,  etc. 

14.  "  Reflect  on  the  end  proposed  in  an  expression  or  action,"  i.e.,  the  aim,  purpose, 
or  scope  of  it. 

15.  "  Consider  whether  there  be  anything  remarkable  in  the  manner  of  speaking  or 
acting,"  e.g.,  '*  More  than  conquerors,"  '*  Before  Abraham  was,  I  am,"  etc. 

16.  "  Compare  words  and  actions  with  similar  words  and  actions,"  i.e.,  those  of  the 
same  person  on  different  occasions. 

17.  "  Contrast  words  and  actions,"  of  different  (persons  by  way  of  antitliesis. 

IH.  "  Examine  the  grounds  or  canses  of  an  action  or  expression ;  and  show  the  truth 
or  equity  of  it." 

19.  "  Remark  the  good  and  bad  in  expressions  and  actions." 

90.  "  Suppose  thiogt." 

SI.  "  Guard  against  objections." 

99.  "  Consider  characters  of  majesty,  meanness,  infirmity,  necessity,  utility,  evidence,** 
eto. 

V.  "  Remark  degrees,'*  (.«.,  in  error,  ignorance,  and  guilt 

94.  ••  Obeerre  dUTerent  interests."  Thus  wnen  the  Lord  Jesus  healed  the  withered 
hand  in  the  ajmagORoe  on  the  Sabbath,  the  divine  Healer,  the  afflicted  man,  and  the 
ifpfodians  and  the  Pharisees  had  different  interests  in  the  miracle.  Each  regarded  it  in 
the  light  of  his  own  character  and  deeirea. 

96.  '•  Distinguish,  Define,  Divide." 

9A.  **  Compare  the  different  parta  of  the  text  together." 

LooiOAi.  ICbtiod  ia,  aooording  to  Dr.  Beck,  a  onion  of  cognitions  determined  by  the 
internal  relations  of  things;  in  other  wortK  by  the  neoeaaary  Interdapendeooe  of  being 
or  snbeunce.  and  attribute  and  accident,  of  canae  and  operation  or  effect,  of  condition 
and  oooditiunal,  uf  vnd«  and  means.  This  is  distinguished  by  him  from  the  geographi- 
cal and  ohronol«>gical  method,  which  is  based  on  external  relations  of  objects  in  ttmu  and 
Deflnition,  In  pure  loi;i<--,  rolstoN  to  the  cotitt-nUi  uf  a  cuntvpiion ;  diviitiun  to  its 
To  divide  logically  is  to  represent  the  objects  which  a  conception  comprehends, 
both  in  their  relation  to  eaoliotliei^  and  in  tbeir  relation  to  the  ooBoept  itself.    The  office 


314  SELECTING  A  SUBJECT.  [Part  IV. 

of  logical  diTMon  ia  to  refard  a  ooooepHon  as  a  RentM,  and  to  resoWe  it  Into  iU  several 
Hpaoiea,  or  to  rabOTdinate  the  particular  to  the  general,  a  cnne  to  ita  rule,  and  an  inference 
to  a  uniTerMl  propoaition ;  oonaeqaently  thiH  kind  of  divi^um  involvefl  the  following  ele- 
mentR:  1,  A  given  conception,  or  the  diviidble  whole ;  2,  a  principle  of  division  ;  that  ia, 
some  general  attribnto  of  the  divisible  whole,  which  determines  the  character  of  the  di- 
vision. As  we  reflect  npon  a  given  conception  from  various  point*  of  view,  we  disoover 
in  it  diflTerent  prindplea  of  divWoiu  Tbna  we  get  collateral  diviakma.  If  am,  for  exam- 
ple, may  be  variooslj  divided.  We  may  take  as  the  principal  of  division,  either  his  na- 
tionality or  religion,  or  morality,  or  mental  qualittes,  or  occupations.  In  each  division 
the  given  conception,  man,  is  the  same ;  but  for  each  new  principle  we  adopt  we  get 
a  different  set  of  members  of  division,  or  q;iecillo  difference*,  or  various  particulars. 
Kach  member  of  a  division  may  it«elf  be  regarded  as  a  divisible  whole  from  which  a  sub* 
ordinate  division  may  be  derived.  Thn*  we  get  subdivisions  which  may  be  subjects!  to 
the  same  dividing  prooe**  to  almost  any  extent.  That  divinion  to  which  a  subdiviHion  is 
immediately  mbordinatai,  i*  called  a  superior  division.  The  division  which  comprehends 
all  the  different  series  of  subdivisions  is  called  the  fundamental  or  primary  division. 

As  to  the  order  of  diviidon,  Dr.  Beck's  precept  is :  In  the  first  place  elucidate  the 
given  oonoe|ttion  by  a  complete  definition ;  secondly,  settle  the  principle  of  division, 
which  must  be  an  essential  attribute  of  the  given  conception :  next  determine  by  this 
})rinciple  the  several  spede*  of  the  divisible  whole ;  then  take  each  species  in  turn  as  a 
diviKible  whole  ;  again  settle  a  principle  of  division,  and  determine  the  several  subordi- 
nate species  and  thus  advance  till  the  process  is  complete.  Hence,  as  Ziegler  teaches,  it 
is  an  offence  against  logical  method  when  a  preacher,  e.g.,  upon  the  proposition,  ''  Why 
is  it  necessary  to  bridle  the  tongue  ?  *"  builds  this  as  a  subdivision,  "  What  is  it  to  bridle  the 
tongne  ?  **  • 

The  laws  of  logical  metho*!  are  worth  remembering,  as  they  oon&titnte  the  ground- 
works of  rhetorical  method.  "  It  is  the  fundamental  tendency  of  the  mind,"  as  Dr.  Beck 
observes.  "  to  refer  its  manifold  conceptions  each  to  its  own  category,  and  thus  reduce 
them  to  unity  in  order  to  comprehend  them.  Hence  it  is  the  logical  method  only  which 
can  satisfy  the  deepest  wants  of  the  human  understanding." — Hebvkt. 

Specimen  Subdivision.  —The  advantage  of  sub- 
division will  be  apparent  on  examination  of  the  following 
scheme  for  the  study  of  the  poems  of  Oliver  Wendell 
Holmes,  prepared  for  the  Unity  Club,  Chicago.  The  stu- 
dent that  had  for  a  subject  nothing  more  specific  than  the 
name  of  the  poet  would  write  a  vague  and  valueless  essay  ; 
but  from  the  fifty  limited  topics  suggested,  he  can  select 
at  least  one  or  two  that  he  can  discuss  with  hope  of  say- 
ing something. 

The  page- references  are  to  the  "  Household  Edition,"  unless  the  letters  I.  6.  are 
added  to  indicate  the  recent  collection  called  "  The  Iron  Gate  and  other  Poems," 


Chap.  XVLJ 


SPECIMEN   SUBDIVISION. 


315 


HOLMES  AT  HOME. 
**  What  if  a  hundred  years  ago, 
Thote  cloeesAut  Up*  had  armoered,  No  I  ^ 


PAGE 

PAOE 

DOBOTRT  Q.,          .          .          . 

.    343 

CONTKNTICKNT,     . 

.    170 

Familt  Recokd,      . 

815 

RhTMKD  LE880K, 

.    67-60 

Old  CAMBaiDoi, . 

.  au4 

Thi  Study, 

.    100 

LUCT, 

298 

Old  Man  Dreams, 

.        210 

Opikiko  Piano,  . 

.    181 

Mexttno  or  Friends, 

.    293 

MooRK  Ckntkmmiai>,  I.  0.,     . 

63 

Nbarino  Snow-Lihr, 

.        248 

LENDIJIO  l»UIfCH-BOWI., 

.    ao 

Iron  Gate,  I.  O., 

6 

Thb  8chooi«-Boy,  I.Q.,    . 

66 

EpiLootnc,  A.D.  1972, 

206 

OnckMork. 

.    2S3 

Conversation. — For  your  picture  of  the  man  watch  him  at  the 
Breakfast  Table  (♦•  Autocrat  "—"  Professor"— "Poet")  and  in 
others'  sketches,  as  well  as  in  the  poems  above.  In  **  Poetic  Lo- 
calities of  Cambridge  "  he  describes  his  old  home.  Your  impres- 
sion of  the  man — his  face,  manner,  character — from  his  writings  ? 
WTiioh  jmrt  of  his  advice  in  the  * '  Rhymed  Lesson  "  hits  your  best 
friend  ? — Notice  liow  often  the  olil-arfe  thought  comes  over  Holmes. 
How  came  a  boy  to  write  "  The  Last  Leaf  ?  "  Is  fifty  old  ?  CJom- 
l>are  with  his  "Snow-Line"  otlier  old-age  i>oom8, — Emei-son's 
"Terminus,"  Whittier's  "St.  Martin's  Summer,"  Longfellow's 
"Morituri  Salutamus,"  and  his  "Personal  Poems"  in  "In  the 
Harbor." 


IL 

THE  FRIFJJD. 

"  Whtn  you  teen  BiU  and  I  wu  Joe."* 

PAOE 

Dill  AND  Joe. 

.    J07        ADAMirrs, 

Indian  Sumicer, 

211        Lamt  Sukvivor,  I.  0.. 

Two  Bot», 

F.  W.  C.   . 

118         TH«  8HADOWS,  I.  O., 

OLDtrr  FmHM'.  . 

.    tiU        Jas.  F.  Clabee,  I.  O., 

All  Herr. 

222       A  Oooo  TniB  Oonio, 

Old  Crcisrr, 

.    226 

88 

39 

46 

57 

160 


Cotirergation. — Which  is  the  best  of  the  Class-Poems?  Is  it  a 
sad  or  a  merry  series  to  read  ?— Identify  his  friends  and  cUss- 
mates,  if  possible  (the  Triennial  Catalogue  of  Harvard  College  may 
help) ;  and  such  allasionB,  all  through, 


316 


SELECTING  A   SUBJECT. 


[Part  IV. 


time-dedcar  bimin, 
the  Umghcr,  ate, 
the  lin^aist,  etc., 
Joe,  Bill,  F.  W.  0.,  etc 


not 

913       rni— PT,  Magnolia, 

41        the  MaraaiUidaa, 
gray  chief, 


PAOB 

103 

181 

90 

145 


ni. 

THE   DOCTOR. 

y/f  .» I  ti:>:i  thf  Squfrf—He'U  km  the  Deacon,  too.'" 
•*  7/<.'v,  ,j,.i  ,.( v,„  ,jica  yature  gave 

Were  never  potted  by  toeiglUe  attd  ecalet.*'* 


PAOB 

COMST, 9 

8TBTHO0OOPB  SOXO,  43 

MlMD'S  DiBT 106 

MTBTBRIOnS  IlXKBM,  116 

LiviMo  Templx,  .143 

IllOHTS, 19S 


Nat.  Sam't  Aaaoo., 
Two  Abmibs, 
R.  V.  WiMBUt,  M.D. 
Mbdicai.  Pobm, 
Gbat  Cbibt, 
The  Wabbb,    . 
Db.  S.  0.  UowE, 


PAOB 

146 
162 

45 
146 
271 


Conversation. — Compare  his  "  Mechanism  in  Thought  and  Mor- 
als," and  essays  in  •*  Currents  and  Counter-CuiTents  ;  "  and  for 
heredity  his  "Elsie  Venner"  and  "Guardian  Angel." — Should 
you  like  him  for  a  doctor  ?  What  sort  of  doctor's-talk  and  medi- 
cine would  you  expect  from  him? — Does  the  "  Two  Annies"  refer 
to  soldier  and  physician  ? — Are  there  any  worthy  poems  by  any 
one  on  the  Human  Body, — its  mai^el  ? — What  other  doctor-poeta 
or  doctors  famous  in  literature  are  there  ? 


IV. 

THE   PATRIOT. 

"  Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  doton  !  " 

page 

PAGE 

DOBCHESTKR  GlANT,      . 

7        BnoTHBB  J.  TO  SistebC, 

.      153 

Robinson  of  Lktdkh,     . 

180        Under  Wash'n  Elm,      . 

IM 

AONES,            .... 

39        Akmy  Hymn. 

.    155 

Boston  Tea-Pabtt, 

247        Sweet  Little  Man, 

.        157 

BUNKEK  HlIX. 

.    300        Union  and  Libertt, 

.     158 

Amer.  Acad.  Cent'l.,  I.  G., 

62        Good  Ship  Union. 

.        216 

Oij>  Ironsides,    . 

1        Charles  Scmneb, 

.     275 

Boston  Bells, 

53        Governor  Andrew, 

298 

Boston  Common, 

.     151        How  Not  to  Settle  It,    . 

.     237 

Vbbtioia  Quinque,  I.  G., 

10        Japanese  Banquet, 

258 

Chap.  XVI.] 


SPECIMEN  SUBDIVISION. 


31 


Conversation.— la  our  early  history  rich  or  poor  in  romance  ?— 
Why  no  Abolition  poems? — Do  his  war-jwems  stir  you?  Com- 
jiare  with  Lowell,  Whittier,  and  Longfellow  on  similar  themes. 

The  two  boy-poets  of  *'  Old  Ironsides  "  (see  p.  20)  and  '*  Thana- 

topsis."  

V. 
THE  POET. 
'*  Ai  the  seasons  slid  along. 
Every  year  a  notch  of  song. '^^ 


To  Ht  Rkapkm, 

SnCPATHIKfl,       . 
MCSA 

eviv  somo, 

Openiho  thk  Wikdow, 
Pboorammk,     . 
Old  Teab  Somq,  . 

SlLBHT  MXLODT,  I.  O., 
VOICII.BM,    . 


PAOK  PAGK 

xi.  PoemtoGrdbb,         ...    288 

191  SBfiLiNO  Listen  EB,        .       .       289 

163  Familiar  Lettkb,     .        .        .806 

227  Atlaktic  Dinner,  .  296 

241  WOBDSWOBTH,     .         .         .         .127 

241  BuBHS 160 

243  Brtant 269 

80  LOMOFELLOW,  ...         283 

141  WBimEB'8  BiBTHDAT,  I.  O.,      .        27 


Conversation. — What  poems  of  Nature  do  you  find?  Has  he 
the  poet's  eye  for  Nature  ?  What  think  you  of  his  Spring  and 
Autumn  pictures  (99,  llJo,  2-43)  ? — Compare  Holmes's  ideal  of  the 
Poet  and  liis  Mission  with  that  of  other  poets.  Is  poetry  an  ear- 
nest business  or  a  pastime  to  him? 


VI. 
THE  WIT. 

**  I  never  dare  to  writ* 
Am  funny  at  I  can.'" 


PAOB  PAOS 

HnoBT  or  RxoiovLOtra,             .  12  Pbolooite 166 

DiLKXHA 4  Deacon's  Srat,      ...  179 

McBic  Qbixdbrs,         ...  9  How  Old  Hob«b  Woh,     .        .  909 

OBOAX  BLOWBB,  V4!i  i>AB80M  T.'s  Lboact,      .         .  178 

COMTSmtKNT.     ...  170  Fakbwell.  Aoamxz,                  .  S94 

Hot  Season.             ...  84  AdntTabitha.       ...  187 

Destination 171  What  Aix  Think,              .       .  165 

CilAKSOV,  SM  LattbbDat  WABNixoa,  168 

Conversation. — 1.-  .i  „a  or  humor?  Does  it  ever  sting?  Wh*t 
geniality  or  self-oontrol— which  is  it?— 4hat  shows  in  Holmes? 
But  do  you  wish  he  had  used  his  power  to  sting  some  things  ? 


318  SELECTING   A   SUBJECT.  [Part  IV. 

Compare  his  fun  with  Lowell's  and  Bret  Hai'te's  and  Hood's. — The 
imagination  of  the  poet  and  that  of  the  humorist  compared.  Does 
humor  steal  the  sense  of  beauty  away  ?  Does  it  imply  shallow 
sympathies?  Has  Holmes  much  of  the  humorist's  pathos?  In 
what  iK>ems  do  you  find  it  ? — Are  **  metrical  essays  "  to  be  borne? 
Are  *•  occasional  "  verses — *'  poems  sen'ed  to  order  " — often  ][X)ems  ? 
Has  Holmes's  good-iiatiu*e  (see  "  Programme,"  242)  cost  him  dear, 
or  not,  as  poet  ?  Ls  he  an  artist  as  to  words,  phi'ases,  and  music  of 
verse  ?  Among  our  five  elder  poets,  what  word  or  two  character- 
izes him  and  our  debt  to  him  ?  Is  he  a  great  ix)et  ?  By  what 
poems  will  he  be  known  in  1972  ?  Which  shows  him  at  his  best, 
his  prose  or  poetry  ?    Is  not  his  best  poetry  in  his  prose  ? 

What  three  poems  seem  his  noblest  to  you  ?  What  three  his 
funniest  ?  His  three  best  compliments  to  friends  ?  Ten  familiar 
quotations  ?  Better  the  mottoes  chosen  above  for  our  half-dozen 
glimpses  of  the  poet. 

The  Subject  Stated. — A  question  definitely  stated 
is  half  settled.  So  a  subject  clearly  conceived  and  cir- 
cumscribed is  half  treated.  One  should  determine  not 
only  the  point  on  which  he  will  write,  but  the  radins  of 
treatment,  and  hence  the  circumference  of  exclusion.  The 
circle  may  have  any  degree  of  extension,  for  in  the  world 
of  ideas  every  object  is  connected  with  every  other,  and 
may  suggest  any  other.  If  these  suggestions  are  followed 
without  system  or  limit,  the  discourse  leads  the  mind,  not 
the  mind  the  discourse ;  and  the  writer,  like  the  pilot  of  a 
helmless  vessel,  abandons  himself  to  an  uncertain  voyage, 
not  knowing  where  he  shall  land. 

Therefore,  in  order  to  lead  and  sustain  the  progress  of  a  dis- 
coui-se,  one  must  clearly  know  whence  one  starts,  and  whither  one 
goes,  and  never  lose  sight  of  either  the  point  of  dei)arture  or  the 
destination.  But,  to  effect  this,  the  road  must  be  measured  be- 
forehand, and  the  principal  distance  marks  must  have  been  placed. 
There  is  a  risk  else  of  losing  one's  way,  and  then,  either  one  ar- 
rives at  no  end,  even  after  much  fatigue,  productive  of  intermina- 


Chap.  XVI.]  GATHERING  MATERIAL.  319 

ble  discourses  leading  to  nothing,— or  if  one  at  la.st  leaehes  the 
destination,  it  is  after  an  infinity  of  turns  and  circuits,  which  have 
wearied  the  hearer  as  well  as  the  sj^eaker,  without  profit  or  pleas- 
ure for  anybody. — Bautain. 

Many  sj^eakers  resemble  the  men  of  an  exploring  party  in  a 
newly  settled  country,  who  have  no  particular  object  in  view  ;  as 
long  as  they  do  but  get  over  a  certain  amouut  of  ground,  they  are 
careless  as  to  the  direction  they  may  have  taken,  and  are  not  much 
surprised  if  they  find  at  last  that  they  have  been  walking  in  a 
circle,  and  have  an'ived  at  the  vei-y  spot  from  which  they  origin- 
ally started  :  on  the  other  hand,  a  good  speaker  may  be  compared 
to  a  native  of  the  same  country,  who,  striking  unhesitatingly  into 
the  right  path,  never  once  pauses  or  turns  aside  until  he  attains 
the  object  of  his  journey. — Halcombe. 

GATHERING  MATERIAL. 

It  has  been  said  that  if  the  task  of  describing  the  hip- 
popotamus were  given  to  an  Englislinian,  a  Frenchman, 
and  a  German,  the  Englishman  would  take  down  his  gun, 
sail  for  Africa,  shoot  one,  examine  it,  and  tell  what  he  had 
seen  ;  the  Frenchman  would  ransack  the  National  Library, 
read  all  that  had  ever  been  written  of  the  animal,  and 
compile  a  description ;  while  the  German  would  light  his 
pipe,  lean  back  in  his  chair,  and  evolve  the  hippopotamus 
out  of  his  inner  consciousness. 

Help  That  must  be  Looked  For.— To  define  and 
state  the  subject  will  require  original  reflection ;  it  will 
indeed  call  into  use  nearly  all  the  previous  general  prepar- 
ation of  the  pupil  that  can  be  made  available.  After  he 
has  clearly  detennined  the  point  to  be  discussed,  the  pupil 
is  not  advised  to  evolve  out  of  liis  inner  consciousness  any 
ideas  that  he  can  get  elsewhere.  With  all  the  suggestions 
that  he  can  derive  from  books  and  conversation,  he  will 
still  have  quite  enough  to  do  to  make  his  presentation  of 
the  subject  worthy  of  attention,     liis  aim  is  the  truth  of 


320  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV. 

the  matter ;  and  he  would  be  as  foolish  to  neglect  the 
landmarks  laid  down  in  the  books  of  wise  men,  as  he 
would  to  neglect  the  paths  up  a  mountain  or  through  a 
forest,  trodden  by  men  who  had  been  there  before,  and 
who  knew  the  way.  If  the  paths  do  not  lead  him  where 
he  wants  to  go,  he  can  strike  out  for  himself ;  but  he  will 
do  well  to  try  the  paths  first.  The  boy  that  is  too  con- 
ceited to  follow  a  track  is  likely  to  be  lost  in  the  woods. 

A  speaker  at  a  teachers'  association  sj^ent  half  the  time  allotted 
to  him  in  apologizing  for  the  revolutionary  chai-acter  of  the  ideas 
he  was  about  to  be  the  first  to  announce.  He  knew  the  audience 
would  be  startled  and  shocked ;  perhaps  it  would  be  indignant. 
He  could  only  say  that  his  views  were  reached  after  the  consider- 
ation of  many  years.  The  essay  he  was  about  to  read  was  the 
result  of  six  months'  direct  preparation.  He  begged  his  hearers 
to  be  patient  with  him,  and  to  remember  that,  however  heretical, 
he  was  at  least  sincere.  What  the  consequences  of  his  discoveiy 
would  be,  he  could  not  foresee.  That  they  would  be  momentous 
he  could  not  doubt,  but  he  could  not  shrink  from  the  responsi- 
bility.    The  tmth  must  stand,  though  the  skies  tumbled. 

After  all  this  introduction,  he  proceeded  to  read  a  vague  and 
timorous  exposition  of  the  theory  that  mind  is  a  manifestation  of 
physical  force  :  a  theoiy  that  it  was  an  undoubted  achievement  for 
him  to  have  reached  unaided,  but  which  had  for  years  been  fami- 
liar to  all  well-read  men  in  the  works  of  Comte  and  Bain. 

Here  was  a  pitiable  waste  of  mental  effort.  When  the  idea 
fii*st  suggested  itself  to  him,  he  should  have  reflected  that  the 
chance  of  its  being  a  new  hypothesis  in  the  world  of  thought  was 
infinitesimal ;  so  he  should  have  searched  to  find  where  it  had 
been  propounded,  whether  it  had  been  refuted,  or  what  was  the 
present  state  of  the  discussion.  This  investigation  might  have  led 
him  to  give  up  the  idea  as  unworthy  of  further  consideration,  or 
to  apply  his  thinking  intelligently.  In  either  case  it  would  have 
saved  him  from  throwing  away  his  time,  and  from  making  himself 
ridiculous. 

Chemistry  advances  because  its  students  make  themselves  fam- 
iliar with  what  others  have   discovered  and  fixed,   before  they 


Chap.  XV L]        HELP  THAT  MUST  BE  SOUGHT.  321 

choose  their  own  narrow  fields  for  further  investigation.  There 
may  be  among  them  one  or  two  that  conld  in  the  course  of  a  life- 
time discover  oxygen  for  themselves.  But  why  should  they  waste 
labor  in  doing  over  again  what  Priestley  has  done  as  well  as  it  can 
be  done  ?  It  is  for  each  generation  to  begin  where  the  last  left 
ofif,  and  thus  to  advance  in  geometrical  ratio. 

So  in  composition,  the  subject  having  been  chosen  and  limited, 
the  first  step  is  to  discover  what  great  minds  have  thought  about 
it.  There  will  be  found  enough  variance  of  opinion  and  difference 
of  treatment  to  leave  exercise  for  judgment  and  taste  ;  nor  will  it 
lessen  the  possibility  of  an  original  contribution  to  the  subject, 
that  the  student  knows  and  is  inspired  by  the  best  thoughts  of 
others. 

PomettUm  tn  the  Ftnder't  Nanu.—Thout  who  hare  to  treat  a  mbject  which  has 
not  been  treated  before,  are  obligetl  to  draw  tiom  a  consideration  of  the  subject,  and 
from  thefar  own  reaoarcea,  all  they  have  to  say.  Then,  according  to  their  gunius  and 
their  penetration,  and  in  proportion  to  the  manner  in  which  they  put  themselves  in 
prenence  of  the  things,  will  their  <lii»court»e  evince  more  or  less  truth,  exactitude,  and 
depth.  They  are  sure  to  be  original,  since  they  are  the  ftrst-comers— and,  in  general, 
the  fimt  view,  which  is  not  influenceil  by  any  prejudice  or  bias,  but  which  arises  from 
the  natural  impreskion  of  the  object  upon  the  soul,  produces  clenr  and  profound  ideas, 
which  remain  in  the  kingdom  of  science  or  of  art  as  common  property,  and  a  sort  of 
patrimony  for  tho«e  who  come  later.  Afterward,  when  the  way  i«  ojioned,  and  many 
have  trodden  it,  leaving  their  traces  behind  them,  when  a  subject  has  been  discussed  at 
various  times  and  among  several  arcles,  it  ia  hard  to  be  original,  in  the  strict  sense,  upon 
that  topic  ;  that  io,  to  have  new  thuughts— thoughts  not  exprew^id  betore.  But  it  is  lK>th 
poestble  and  incnmt>ent  to  have  that  other  sijecics  of  originality,  which  consists  in  pat- 
ting forth  no  ideas  except  snch  as  one  has  made  one's  own  by  a  conception  of  one's  own, 
and  thus  quickened  b)  the  life  of  one's  own  mind.  This  is  calleil  taking  po9»e*»ion  in 
the  Jl niter* a  natne :  and  Mulidre,  when  be  imitated  Plautus  and  Ter«'nce;  La  Fontaine, 
when  be  borrowed  from  ^nop  and  Phiedras,  were  not  ashamed  of  the  practice.  This 
oondition  is  indispensable  if  life  is  to  be  imparted  to  the  discourse  ;  and  it  is  this  which 
distingnlshes  the  orator,  who  draws  on  his  own  interior  reaonroes  even  when  he  borrows, 
fhmi  the  actor  who  impersonates,  or  the  reader  who  recites  the  productions  of  another. 

Fdmion  or  TBB  loCAt  OT  OTHBBa — In  such  a  case  the  problem  stantls  therefore  thns : 
When  voo  have  to  speak  on  a  snbjeot  already  treated  by  several  authors,  yuu  must  care- 
fully cull  their  jnstest  and  moat  NtriMng  thoughts,  analyse  and  sift  theae  with  critical 
discernment  and  penetration,  then  fnse  them  in  your  own  alembic  by  a  powerful  synthetio 
<^  ration,  which,  rejeottng  whataver  la  hetemireneoai,  collects  and  kneads  whatever  is 
homiigeneoua  or  amalgamable.  and  fashions  forth  a  complex  idea  that  shall  assume  con- 
ditency,  tniHy,  and  odor  In  the  imderstanding  by  the  very  heat  of  the  mind^  Inlwr. 

If  we  may  ojiapare  thingi  ipbltaal  with  things  msterial,— and  we  always  may,  since 
tbry  are  governed  bj  the  same  laws,  and  hence  their  analogy,— we  wonld  aay  that,  in  the 
formation  of  an  idea  by  this  method,  something  oocnrs  aimilar  to  what  is  observed  in  the 
production  of  the  csramio  or  modeller's  art,  composed  of  varloaa  olsmsnts,  oArttta,  salta, 
msiaki,  aUuOiflS  rnOda,  and  th*  rest,  which,  when  sokably  sspMmfesd,  siflod,  pvrited,  ars 


322  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV, 

flrat  nnited  into  one  eompoond,  then  knca<1«d,  shaped,  monlded,  pr  tarned,  and  finally 
mibjected  to  the  action  of  the  fire,  which  oombines  them  in  unity,  and  gives  to  the  wholft 
Holidity  and  splendor.— Bautain. 

Nbcjessity  op  Wide  Reading. — "The  orator  who  sjieaks  after 
many  others,  and  mnst  treat  the  same  topic,  ought  first  to  en- 
deavor to  make  liimself  acquainted  with  all  that  has  been  written 
on  the  subject,  in  order  to  extract  from  the  mass  the  thoughts 
which  best  sen-e  his  end ;  he  ought  then  to  collect  and  fuse  within 
his  own  thought  the  lights  emitted  by  other  minds,  gather  and 
converge  ui>on  a  single  point  the  rays  of  those  various  luminaries. 

"  He  cannot  shirk  this  labor,  if  he  would  treat  his  subject  with 
fulness  and  profundity ;  in  a  word,  if  he  is  in  earnest  with  his 
business,  which  is  to  seek  tmth,  and  to  make  it  known.  Like 
every  tnie  artist,  he  has  an  intuition  of  the  ideal,  and  to  that  ideal 
he  is  impelled  by  the  divine  instinct  of  his  intelligence  to  lift  his 
conceptions  and  his  thoughts,  in  order  to  produce,  first  in  himself, 
and  then  upon  others,  by  si>eakiug  or  by  whatever  is  his  vehicle  of 
expression,  something  which  shall  forever  tend  toward  it,  with- 
out ever  attaining  it.  For  ideas,  properly  so  called,  being  the 
very  conceptions  of  the  Supreme  Mind,  the  eternal  archetyi>es  after 
which  all  created  things  have  been  modelled  with  all  their  powers, 
the  human  mind,  made  after  the  image  of  the  Creator,  yet  always 
finite,  whatever  its  force  or  its  light,  can  catch  but  glimpses  of 
them  here  below,  and  will  always  be  incapable  of  conceiving  and 
of  reproducing:  them  in  their  immensity  and  infinitude." 

Not  too  Much  Reading. 

However,  care  must  be  taken  here  not  to  allow  one's  self  to  be 
carried  away  by  too  soaring  a  train  of  considerations,  or  into  too 
vast  a  field  ;  all  is  linked  with  all,  and  in  things  of  a  higher  world 
this  is  more  especially  the  case,  for  there  you  are  in  the  realm  of 
sovereign  unity  and  universality.  A  philosopher,  meditating  and 
writing,  may  give  wings  to  his  contemplation,  and  his  flight  will 
never  be  too  vigorous,  pro\'ided  his  intelligence  be  illumined  with 
the  true  light,  and  guided  in  the  right  path ;  but  the  speaker  gen- 
erally stands  before  an  audience  who  are  not  on  his  own  level, 
and  whom  he  must  take  at  theirs.  Again,  he  speaks  in  a  given 
state  of  things,  with  a  view  to  some  immediate  effect,  some  defin- 
ite end.     His  topic  is  restricted  by  these  conditions,  and  his  man- 


Chap.  XVI.]  HOW  AND  WHAT  TO  READ.  323 

ner  of  treating  it  must  be  subordinated  to  them,  his  discourse 
adapted  to  them.  It  is  no  business  of  his  to  say  all  that  might 
be  said,  but  merely  what  is  necessary  or  useful  in  the  actual  case, 
in  order  to  enlighten  his  hearers  and  to  persuade  them.  He  must, 
therefore,  circumscribe  his  matter  within  the  limits  of  his  pur- 
pose ;  and  his  discourse  must  have  just  that  extent,  that  elevation, 
and  discretion  which  the  special  circumstances  demand.  (See 
page  318.) 

Becul,  Ckyinpare,  Assimikue. — It  is  with  this  aim  that  the  orator 
ought  to  prepare  his  mateiials,  and  lay  in,  as  it  were,  the  provi- 
sions for  his  discourse. 

First,  as  we  liave  said,  he  must  collect  the  ingredients  of  his 
comix)st.  Then  he  \^-ill  do  what  the  bee  does,  which  rifles  the 
flowers — exactly  what  the  bee  does  ;  for,  by  an  admimble  instinct 
which  never  misleads  it,  it  extracts  from  the  cup  of  the  flowers 
only  what  serves  to  form  the  wax  and  the  honey,  the  aromatic  and 
the  oleaginous  particles.  But,  be  it  well  observed,  the  bee  first 
nourishes  itself  with  these  extracts,  digests  them,  transmutes  them, 
and  turns  them  into  wax  and  honey  solely  by  an  operation  of  ab- 
sorption and  assimilation. 

Just  so  should  the  speaker  do.  Before  him  lie  the  fields  of 
science  and  of  literature,  rich  in  each  description  of  flower  and 
fruit — every  hue,  every  flavor.  In  these  fields  he  will  seek  his 
booty,  but  Mith  discernment ;  and  choosing  only  what  suits  liis 
work,  he  will  extract  from  it,  by  Oiotight/ul  reatling,  and  by  the  pro- 
cess of  mental  tasting  (his  thoughts  all  absorbed  in  his  topic,  and 
darting  at  once  upon  whatever  relates  to  it),  everything  which  can 
minister  nutriment  to  his  intelligence,  or  fill  it,  or  even  perfume 
it ;  in  a  word,  the  substantial  or  aromatic  elements  of  his  honey, 
or  idea,  but  ever  so  as  to  take  in  and  to  digest,  like  the  bee,  in 
order  that  there  may  be  real  transformation  and  appropriation, 
and  consequently  a  production  fraught  with  life,  and  to  live. — 
Bautain. 

Where  to  Look. — To  know  what  books  to  consnlt 
uj>on  a  given  subject  is  in  itself  a  liberal  education.  No* 
school  or  college  can  do  much  more  for  a  man  than  to  show 
him  liow  much  there  is  to  be  learned,  and  how  to  learn 


324  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV. 

whatever  little  part  of  that  much  it  may  be  worth  his  im- 
mediate while  to  master.  As  the  stranger  in  town  does  not 
attempt  to  become  acquainted  witli  every  street,  but  by 
consulting  a  map  fixes  in  mind  the  main  thoroughfares, 
so  as  to  keep  in  mind  in  what  part  of  the  city  he  is,  and 
how  he  may  get  to  any  other  part,  so  one  gets  from  the 
best  education  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole  field  of 
knowledge ;  he  does  not  know  everything,  but  he  knows 
what  steps  to  take  to  become  acquainted  with  any- 
thing. 

Some  General  Hints. — In  general  it  may  be  said  that 
one  would  naturally  consult  first  a  cyclopaedia,  two  or  three 
cyclopaedias,  if  so  many  are  at  hand.  Here  will  be  found 
not  only  direct  information,  but  references  to  the  lead  in i^ 
books  on  the  subject.  These  books,  if  accessible,  will  re- 
fer to  others,  and  these  in  turn  to  others  yet,  so  that  with 
plenty  of  time  and  a  large  enough  library  one  may  hope 
to  hit  upon  most  that  is  valuable  in  the  literature  of  the 
subject. 

•*  What,  read  books !  "  said  one  of  the  great  lights  of  European 
physiological  science  to  a  not  less  eminent  American  scholar,  ••  I 
never  read  a  book  in  my  life,  except  the  Bible."  He  had  time 
only  to  glance  over  the  thousands  of  volumes  which  lay  around 
him,  to  consult  them  occasionally,  to  accept  the  particular  facts  or 
illustrations  which  he  needed  to  aid  him  in  his  own  researches. — 
Marsh. 

The  best  way  of  reading  books  with  rapidity,  is  to  acquire  that 
habit  of  severe  attention  to  what  they  contain  that  perpetually  con- 
fines the  mind  to  the  single  object  it  has  in  view.  When  you 
have  read  enough  to  have  acquired  the  habit  of  reading  without 
suffering  your  mind  to  wander,  and  when  you  can  bring  to  bear 
upon  your  subject  a  great  share  of  previous  knowledge,  you  may 
then  read  with  rapidity  ;  before  that,  as  you  have  taken  the  wrong 
road,  the  faster  you  proceed  the  more  you  will  be  sure  to  err, — 
Sydney  Smith. 


Chap.  XVI.]         HELP  FROM  CONVERSATION.  325 

Periodicals,  especially  the  monthlies  and  quarterlies, 
are  becoming  more  and  more  essential  to  thorough  inves- 
tigation, and  more  and  more  accessible,  through  careful  in- 
dexes. LitteWs  Living  Aye  will  give  one  glimpses  of  the 
latest  thought,  and  will  suggest  much  not  easily  found  in 
books. 

Finally,  Conversation  is  a  most  important  resource.  Be- 
fore one  has  begun  to  investigate,  while  one  is  investi- 
gating, and  after  one  has  reached  and  begun  to  formulate 
ideas,  one  will  greatly  profit  by  talking  the  subject  over 
with  an  intelligent  companion.  Older  persons  are  often 
glad  to  be  approached  by  the  young  enthusiast,  and  will 
not  unfrequently  suggest  more  in  a  minute  than  might  be 
happened  upon  in  a  month. 

Thackeray  illustrates  this  when  he  makes  Addison  say  in  a  con- 
versation with  Henry  Esmond : 

**  One  of  the  grcfttoat  of  a  grcttt  man's  qualitien  is  Roooem :  'tis  the  resnlt  of  all  the 
others ;  'tii*  a  latent  power  in  him  which  compels  the  favor  of  the  gods,  and  subjugates 
fortune.  Of  all  bis  ^MfUt  I  admire  that  one  in  the  great  Marlborough.  Tu  be  brave  ?  every 
man  is  brave,  but  in  l>eing  victorious,  as  he  is,  I  fancy  there  is  something  divine.  In 
presence  of  the  occasion,  the  great  soul  of  the  leader  shines  out,  and  the  god  is  con- 
fessed. Death  itwlf  respects  him,  and  paKses  by  him  to  lay  others  low.  War  and  car 
nage  rice  before  him  to  ravage  other  |iart««  of  the  field,  as  Hector  from  before  the  divine 
Achilles.  Wo  Mty  he  hath  no  pity  ;  no  more  have  the  gods,  who  are  above  it,  and  super- 
human. The  fainting  battle  gathers  strength  at  his  aspect,  and  wberaTcr  he  rides  vic- 
tory ohnrgcM  with  him." 

••  A  couple  of  days  after,  when  Mr.  Esmond  revisited  his  poetio 
friend  ho  found  this  thought,  struck  out  in  the  /error  of  conversa- 
tion, improved  and  shaped  into  those  famous  lines  which  are  in 
tnith  the  noblest  in  the  poem  of  the  *  Campaign.' " 

'Twas  then  great  MarlbrA's  mighty  soal  was  proved. 

That,  in  the  shock  uf  charging  boats  nnmov'd 

Amidat  ooofntion.  horror,  and  despair, 

BxmminM  all  the  dreadful  aoenes  of  war ; 

la  peaoeful  thought  th«  field  of  death  nrvey'd. 

To  fkinting  equA^lrons  sent  the  timely  aid, 

Insplr'd  repuls'd  bnttalions  to  engage, 

And  tMif^ht  tiM  doohKtU  biiMa  wbwa  to  ne«b 


326  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV. 

60  when  an  angel  bj  divine  command 
WiUi  riRing  tempests  Bhakes  a  ^ilty  land. 
Bach  UN  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  past. 
Calm  nnd  Kerene  he  drives  the  furious  blast ; 
Anrl.  ploaK'd  tti*  AlmiKhty's  orders  to  perform, 
Uidw  in  tho  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm. 

Ideas  Everywhere.— If  the  writer  takes  the  proper 
hold  of  his  subject,  his  subject  will  soon  take  hold  of  him, 
and  illustrate  itself  at  every  turn,  lie  will  be  astonished 
to  notice  how  every  incident  of  his  daily  life,  the  morning 
newspaper,  the  book  he  picks  up  while  waiting  for  lunch, 
the  conversation  he  overhears  on  the  horse-car,  all  have  a 
bearing  on  the  topic  that  absorbs  him.  This  is  from  the 
principle  already  named,  that  all  ideas  are  connected. 
When  one  has  a  firm  grasp  of  any  one  of  the  multitude  he 
feels  the  pull  upon  it  of  all  the  rest. 

Taking  Notes. 

Always  read  pen  or  pencil  in  hand.  Mark  the  parts  which 
most  strike  you,  those  in  which  you  perceive  the  germ  of  an  idea 
or  of  anything  new  to  you ;  then,  when  you  have  finished  your 
reading,  make  a  note, — let  it  be  a  substantial  note,  not  a  mere 
transcription  or  extract — a  note  embodying  the  veiy  thought 
which  you  have  apprehended,  and  which  you  have  already  made 
your  own  by  digestion  and  assimilation. 

Above  all,  let  these  notes  be  short  and  lucid ;  put  them  down 
one  under  the  other,  so  that  you  may  afterward  be  able  to  run 
over  them  at  a  single  view. 

Mistrust  long  readings  from  which  you  can-y  nothing  away.  Our 
mind  is  naturally  so  lazy,  the  labor  of  thought  is  so  irksome  to  it, 
that  it  gladly  yields  to  the  pleasure  of  reading  other  people's 
thoughts,  in  order  to  avoid  the  trouble  of  foiTaing  any  itself;  and 
then  time  passes  in  endless  readings,  the  pretext  of  which  is  some 
hunt  after  materials,  and  which  come  to  nothing.  The  mind 
ruins  its  own  sap,  and  gets  burdened  with  trash  :  it  is  as  though 
overladen  with  undigested  food,  which  gives  it  neither  force  nor 
light.    (See  page  322.) 

Quit  not  a  book  until  you  have  wrested  from  it  whatever  relates 


Chap.  XVI.]  NEW  IDEAS  DEVELOPED.  327 

the  most  closely  to  yonr  subject.  Not  till  then  go  on  to  another, 
and  get  the  cream  off,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  in  the  same  man- 
ner. Repeat  this  labor  with  several,  until  you  find  that  the  same 
things  are  beginning  to  return,  or  nearly  so,  and  that  there  is  noth- 
ing to  gain  in  the  plunder  ;  or  suppose  that  you  feel  your  under- 
standing to  be  suflBciently  furnished,  and  that  your  mind  now  re- 
quires to  digest  the  nutriment  it  has  taken. — Baittain. 

Development  of  the  Subject.— Important  as  it 
was  clearly  to  define  the  subject  before  the  investigation 
began,  under  this  treatment  it  is  almost  sure  to  take  on  an 
altered  aspect,  if  not  a  wholly  different  meaning. 

It  is  customary  to  tell  good  little  boys  and  girls  that  genius  is 
only  capacity  for  work  ;  and  that  such  men  as  Bacon  and  Shak- 
spere  and  Bonaparte  acliieved  great  results  only  because  they 
formed  habits  of  intense  and  continued  concentration  of  energy. 
The  moral  is,  that  good  little  boys  and  girls  must  study  hard,  but, 
like  many  other  excellent  morals,  it  is  enforced  at  the  expense  of 
truth.  In  the  men  that  have  accomplished  most,  and  whom  we 
therefore  naturally  cite  for  illustration,  genius  lias  usually  been 
accompanied  by  habits  of  industry.  Such  men,  with  a  sort  of 
modest  self-glorification,  have  sometimes  attributed  their  achieve- 
ments to  their  labor,  instead  of  to  the  insight  that  prompted  and 
directed  that  labor.  But  there  are  men  in  this  country  that  have 
devoted  more  intense  and  continued  labor  to  the  tliscovery  of  per- 
])etual  motion  than  Bacon  gave  to  the  **  Novum  Organon."  A 
half -hour's  study  in  boyhoml  of  an  elementary  text-book  of  physics 
would  have  proved  to  them  beyond  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  that 
l>erpetual  motion  is  simply  imj^ossible.  That  half-hour's  study 
they  never  had,  and  so  they  have  wasted  their  lives  in  batting 
their  heads  against  one  of  nature's  stoue-waUs. 

Now  it  is  the  peculiarity  of  genius  that  without  this  half-hour's 
study  it  oBoapes  the  impracticable  and  the  irrelevant.'  It  (leers 
beneath  the  accidents  to  the  essence,  and  takes  the  shortest  path 
to  the  truth  sought. 

Here  is  an  exi)erience  common  to  all  of  us  who  have  tried  to  in- 
Testigate  a  subject. 

We  first  think  it  over,  gathering  and  cluiisifyiug  ail  that  we 


328  PREPARATION.  [Part  IV. 

know  abont  it.  Then  we  begin  to  read,  probably  in  the  direction 
of  supplementing  such  of  our  ideas  as  seem  most  essential.  Under 
this  treatment  the  subject  broadens.  "We  are  surprised  to  find 
how  its  roots  extend  through  every  field  of  knowledge.  One  au- 
thority compels  us  to  consult  another,  until  we  long  to  live  in  the 
British  Museum,  and  to  lay  under  tribute  all  books,  of  all  times, 
in  all  languages. 

Presently  we  reach  a  point  where  our  new  information  is  of  de- 
tails, and  we  feel  sure  that  our  general  analysis  is  sound  and  fun- 
damental. Then  we  begin  to  write.  And  in  the  very  flush  of  our 
wisdom,  while  we  are  seeking  perchance  for  an  illustration  or  a 
happy  expression,  we  encounter  a  hint,  a  suggestion,  a  chance  re- 
mark, which  flashes  over  us  the  discovery  that  we  are  not  yet  even 
approaching  the  kernel  of  truth  we  supposed  ourselves  to  have 
gi*asped ;  that  we  are  groping  aimlessly  about  the  circumference, 
and  have  not  found  even  the  path  to  the  centre. 

Now  the  man  of  genius  escapes  this  waste  of  effort.  It  is  not 
the  quantity  of  work  he  does  :  it  is  the  quality.  His  eveiy  stroke 
tells,  because  the  eye  that  directs  it  is  unerring. 

Hence  too  much  time  shonld  not  be  given  to  the  title 
and  introduction  of  an  essay.  The  preface  of  a  book  is 
always  the  last  part  written,  and  the  wording  of  the  title 
is  often  a  happy  inspiration  tliat  comes  in  the  midst  of  the 
labor  of  composition. 

Not  seldom  the  young  writer  finds  himself  in  his  final  revision 
obhged  to  omit  as  extraneous  the  passages  which  he  has  poUshed 
the  most  carefully.    His  loss  is  still  gi*c:iter  if  he  does  not  omit  them. 

Arrangement  of  Notes. — As  notes  accumulate, 
divisions  of  the  subject  will  suggest  themselves,  and  classi- 
fication will  naturally  follow.  This  is  the  more  necessary, 
that  difFering  views  on  the  same  point  may  be  closely  com- 
pared, which  might  easily  be  neglected  in  a  mass  of  undi- 
gested material.  But  as  the  principle  of  classification  is 
almost  sure  to  vary  as  the  investigation  proceeds,  all  the 


Chap.  XVL]        EMEBSOITS  LITERARY   METHOD.  329 

notes  should  be  read  over  from  time  to  time,  and  redistri- 
buted wherever  n^essary. 

It  haa  been  Bmenoo**  habit  to  spend  the  forenoon  in  his  fitndy,  with  constant  regn- 
lari^.  He  haa  not  waited  for  moods,  but  caught  them  as  they  came,  and  nscd  their  re- 
•olto  In  each  day's  work.  He  has  been  a  diligent  though  a  slow  and  painstaking  worker. 
It  has  been  his  wont  to  jot  down  his  thoughts  at  all  hours  and  places.  The  suggcptions 
whi<^  reHult  from  his  readings,  conversations,  and  meditations  arc  transferred  to  the 
note-book  he  carries  with  him.  In  his  walks  many  a  gem  of  thought  is  thus  preserved ; 
and  hla  mind  is  alwayrt  alert,  quick  to  see,  his  powers  of  observation  being  perpetually 
awake.  The  results  of  his  thinking  are  thus  stored  up,  to  be  made  use  of  when  required. 
The  story  is  told  that  his  wife  suddenly  awakened  in  the  night,  before  she  knew  his 
habitis  and  heard  him  moving  about  the  room.  She  anxiously  inquired  if  he  were  ill. 
**  Only  an  idi'a."  wits  hl«  reply,  and  proceeded  to  jot  it  down.  Curtis  humorously  says 
the  Tillagers  "  relate  that  he  has  a  h«ge  manuscript  book,  in  which  he  incessantly  records 
the  ends  of  thoughts  bits  of  observation  and  experience,  tlie  facts  of  all  kinds— a  kind 
of  intellecta*l  and  scientific  scrap-bag,  into  ..  hich  oil  shreds  and  remnants  of  conversa- 
tion and  reminiaoenoes  of  wayside  reveries  are  incontinently  thrust." 

After  his  note-bonks  are  filled,  he  transcribes  their  contents  to  a  larger  commonplace 
book.  He  then  writes  at  the  bottom,  or  in  the  margin,  the  subject  of  each  paragraph. 
When  he  desires  to  write  an  easay.  he  turns  to  his  note-books,  transcribes  all  his  para- 
graphs on  that  snbject,  drawing  a  perpendicular  line  through  whatever  he  has  thus 
copied.  These  aepanite  jottings,  perhaps  written  years  apart,  and  in  widely  different  cir- 
cumstancea  and  moods,  arc  brought  together,  arranged  in  such  order  as  is  possible,  and 
are  welded  together  by  such  matter  as  is  suggested  at  the  time.  Alcott  relates  going  once 
to  hla  stady.  to  find  him  with  many  sheets  of  manuscript  scattered  about  on  the  floor, 
which  he  was  anxiously  endeavoring  to  arrange  in  something  like  a  systematic  treatment 
of  the  subject  in  hand  at  the  time.  The  essay  thus  prepare<l  is  read  before  an  audience 
to  test  its  quality  and  construction.  Its  parts  are  frequently  rearrangcHl.  Perhaps  in  its 
oonstmction  portions  of  previously  used  lectures  are  made  to  do  new  service.  Should  the 
leotore  come  at  last  to  be  put  into  one  of  his  books,  it  is  pruned  of  all  but  the  telling  sen> 
tenoea.  His  lectorea  which  are  rapidly  composed,  for  s]iecial  occasions,  have  a  continuity 
and  flow  of  thooght  quite  different  from  the  essays  in  his  books.  The  atldreaa  on  Lincoln, 
written  in  one  evening,  shows  this.  The  published  essays  are  often  the  results  of  many 
lectorea,  the  most  pregnant  sentences  and  (wragraphs  alone  being  retained.  His  apples 
are  sorted  over  and  over  again,  until  only  the  very  rarest,  the  most  perfect  are  left  It 
do«a  not  matter  that  thoae  thrown  away  are  very  good,  and  help  to  make  clear  the  poaai- 
bllitioa  of  the  orotaard :  they  are  unmercifully  oaat  aside.  His  easays  are,  oonaeqnently, 
vi>ry  slowly  dabar»tad,  wrought  out  through  days  and  months,  and  even  years,  of  pa- 
tient thought. 

Hla  easajs  are  all  ouefollj  reriaed  again  and  again,  conected,  wrought  over,  portions 
dropped,  and  new  matter  added.  He  is  nnspariag  in  his  oorreotiona,  striking  out  sen- 
tence after  sentence ;  and  paragraphs  disappear  from  time  to  time.  His  manuscript  is 
evsrywhsre  crowded  with  araMues  and  corrections ;  scarcely  a  page  appear*  that  is  not 
covered  with  tiMM  evld«w«  of  hi>  diUcwt  rrrlrioo.— G.  W.  CoosB. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Reproduction  vs.  Creation,  p.  305. 
SELECTING  A  SUIUECT,  p.  306. 

Bombastic  commonplaces,  p.  306. 

Familiar  subjects,  p.  307. 

The  topic  to  be  discussed,  p.  311. 

Literary  and  historical  subjects,  p.  311. 

How  to  subdivide  a  subject,  p.  312. 

Specimen  subdivision,  p.  314. 

The  subject  stated,  p.  318. 
GATHERING  MATERIAL,  p.  319. 

Possession  in  the  finder's  name,  p.  321. 

Fusion  of  the  ideas  of  others,  p.  321. 

Necessity  of  wide  reading,  p.  322. 

Not  too  much  reading,  p.  322. 

Where  to  look,  p.  323. 

Some  general  hints,  p.  324. 

Ideas  everywhere,  p.  326. 
Taking  notes,  p.  326. 
Development  of  the  subject,  p.  327. 
Arrangement  of  notes,  p.  328. 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

INVENTION. 

Invention,  \ti  tho  rhetorical  sonise,  is  that  energy  of  the  mind  by  which  we  disoem 
ide«8  and  their  re'.ationH.  Vinet  likens  it  to  a  divininK-roil,  which  enables  some  minds  to 
diwover  riches  of  thought  and  beauties  uf  langaoge  to  which  other  minds  arc  insensible. 
John  Quincy  Adams  says :  *'  It  selects  from  the  whole  mass  of  ideas  conceived  or  stored 
In  the  mind  those  which  can  most  effectually  pn^mote  the  object  of  discourse ;  it  gath- 
ers from  the  whole  domain  of  real  or  apparent  truth  their  inexhaustible  subsidies  to  se- 
cure the  triumph  of  persuasiun."  Thus  it  is  seen  to  be  not  only  an  originating,  but  a 
ooostructive  faculty.  It  not  only  seeks  out  that  which  was  before  unknown  ;  it  also  seizes 
upon  old  truths  and  blends  them  together  in  new  comb  nations.  It  finds  new  pathways 
throngh  old  regions  of  thought.  It  never  contcnU  ittself  with  what  others  have  done,  but 
insists  upon  fashioning  what  Is  new  to  itself,  whatever  uses  other  minds  have  made  of  the 
fame  material. — Kiodeb. 

The  Essay  Half  Done.— The  work  tlins  far  laid 
out  has  demanded  nothing  of  what  is  commonly  looked 
npon  as  authorship.  It  has  required  judgment,  but  not 
more  than  is  needed  in  a  topical  geography  lesson.  With- 
out considering  native  talent,  its  accomplishment  depends 
upon  the  will-power  of  any  student. 

Yet  it  is  in  amount  and  in  kind  the  hardest  part  of  es- 
say-writing. Inertia  has  been  overcome,  the  student  is 
roused  and  interested,  liis  mind  is  full  of  his  subject,  he 
really  wants  to  know  what  the  truth  of  the  matter  is,  and 
how  to  reach  it ;  if  he  has  had  practice  enougli  to  over- 
come his  timidity,  he  is  even  anxious  to  begin  the  active 
part  of  composition. 

The  Moment  of  Action.— "It  is  with  the  mind 
as  with  the  body,  after  nourishment  and  repose  it  re- 
quires to  act  and  to  tranPfnit.     When  it  has  repaired  its 


332  INVENTION.  [Part  IV. 

strength  it  must  exert  it ;  when  it  lias  received,  it  must 
give;  after  having  concentrated  itself,  it  needs  dilation; 
it  must  yield  back  what  it  has  absorbed ;  fulness  unre- 
lieved is  as  painful  as  inanition.  These  are  the  two  vital 
movements— attraction  and  expansion." 

Hoic  to  Begin. — The  moment  this  fulness  is  felt,  the  moment 
of  acting  or  thinking  for  yourself  has  arrived. 

You  take  up  your  notes  and  you  carefully  re-read  them  face 
to  face  with  the  topic  to  be  treated.  Yon  blot  out  such  as  di- 
verge from  it  too  much,  or  are  not  suflBciently  substantial,  and  by 
this  elimination  you  gnuiually  eonecntmte  and  compress  the 
thoughts  which  have  the  greatest  reciprocal  bearing.  You  work 
these  a  longer  or  a  shorter  time  in  your  understanding,  as  in  a 
crucible,  by  the  inner  fire  of  reflection,  and,  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten,  they  end  by  amalgamating  and  fusing  into  one  another,  until 
they  fomi  a  homogeneous  mass,  which  is  reduced,  like  the  metallio 
pai-ticles  in  incandescence,  by  the  persistent  hammering  of  thought, 
into  a  dense  and  solid  oneness. 

As  soon  as  you  become  conscious  of  this  unity,  you  obtain  a 
glimi)se  of  the  essential  idea  of  the  comjwsitiou,  and  in  that  essen- 
tial idea,  the  lea<^ling  ideas  which  will  distribute  your  topic,  and 
which  already  api>ear  like  the  fii-st  organic  lineaments  of  the  dis- 
coiu*se. 

Repress  Impatience. 

Sometimes  the  idea  thus  conceived,  is  developed  and  formed 
rapidly,  and  then  the  plan  of  the  discoui-se  an-anges  itself  on  a 
sudden,  and  you  throw  it  upon  paper  warm  with  the  fei-vor  of 
the  conception  which  has  just  taken  place,  as  the  metal  in  a  state 
of  fusion  is  poured  into  the  mould,  and  tills  at  a  single  turn  all 
its  lineaments.  It  is  the  case  most  favorable  to  eloquence, — that 
is,  if  the  idea  has  been  well  conceived,  and  if  it  be  fraught  with 
light. 

But  in  general,  one  must  not  be  in  a  hurry  to  form  one's  plan. 
In  nature,  life  always  needs  a  definite  time  for  self-organization, — 
and  it  is  only  ephemeral  beings  which  are  quickly  formed,  for  they 
quickly  pass  away.  Eveiything  destined  to  be  durable  is  of  slow 
growth,  and  beth  the  solidity  and  the  strength  of  existing  things 


Chap,  XVII.  ]  FIRST  STEPS.  333 

bear  a  direct  ratio  to  the  length  of  their  increase  and  the  mature- 
ness  of  th»Mr  production. 

Development  of  the  Idea. 

Tlie  thouglits  ai)i)ly  themselves  to  a  frequent  consideration  of 
the  idea  conceived  ;  they  turn  it  and  return  it  in  every  direction, 
look  at  it  in  all  its  a«i>ects,  place  it  in  all  manner  of  relations ; 
then  they  jxinetrate  it  with  their  light,  scnitinize  its  foundation, 
and  examine  its  principal  parts  in  succession  ;  these  begin  to  come 
out,  separate  themselves  from  each  other,  to  assume  shaip  out- 
lines, just  as  in  the  bud  the  fii"st  rudimentary  ti-aces  of  the  flower 
are  discernible  ;  then  the  other  organic  lines,  appearing  oue  after 
the  other,  instinct  with  life,  or  like  the  confused,  first  animate 
form,  which,  little  by  little,  declares  itself  in  all  the  finish  of  its 
proportions.  In  like  manner,  the  idea,  in  the  successive  stages  of 
its  formation,  shows  itself  each  day  in  fuller  development  to  the 
mind  which  bears  it,  and  which  acquires  assurance  of  its  progress 
by  persevering  meditation. 

Reflection  upon  the  Idea. 

There  are  frequently  good  ideas  which  jjerish  in  a  man's  under- 
standing, abortively,  whether  for  want  of  nourishment,  or  from 
the  debility  of  the  mind  which,  through  levity,  indolence,  or 
giddiness,  fails  to  devote  a  sufficient  amount  of  reflection  to  what 
it  has  conceived.  It  is  even  observable  that  those  who  conceive 
with  the  greatest  quickness  and  facility,  bring  forth,  generally, 
both  in  thoughts  and  in  language,  the  weakest  and  the  least  dura- 
ble productions ;  whether  it  be  that  they  do  not  take  time  enough 
to  mature  what  they  have  conceived, — hurried  into  precocious  dis- 
play by  tlie  vivacity  of  their  feelings  and  imagination,— or  on  ac- 
count of  the  impres-sionability  and  acti\'ity  of  their  mimls,  which, 
ever  yielding  to  fresh  emotions,  exhausting  themselves  in  too 
rapid  an  alternation  of  revulsions,  have  not  the  strength  for  patient 
meditations,  and  allow  the  half-fomied  idea  or  the  ciiide  thought, 
bom  M-ithout  life,  to  escape  from  the  understanding.  Much,  then, 
is  in  our  own  power  toward  the  rii)ening  and  perfecting  of  our  ideas. 

Organization  of  the  Idea. 

The  pri'piinition  of  the  plan  of  a  ilis((»nrso  implies,  before  any- 
thing else,  u  kuowletlgo  of  the  things  about  which  you  have  to 


334  INVENTION.  [ParxIV. 

Rpeak  ;  but  a  general  knowledge  is  not  enongh  ;  yon  may  have  a 
great  quantity  of  materials,  of  documonts,  and  of  information  in 
your  memory,  and  not  be  aware  how  to  bring  them  to  bear. 
It  sometimes  even  hap})ens  tliat  those  who  know  most,  or  have 
most  matter  in  their  heads,  are  incajMible  of  rightly  conveying  it. 
The  over-abundance  of  acquisition  and  words  crushes  the  mind, 
and  stifles  it,  just  as  the  head  is  paralyzed  by  a  too  great  deter- 
mination of  blood,  or  a  lamp  is  extinguished  by  an  excess  of 
oU. 

You  must  begin,  therefore,  by  methodizing  what  you  know 
about  the  subject  you  wish  to  treat,  and  thus,  in  each  discourse, 
you  must  adopt  as  your  centre  or  chief  idea,  the  point  to  be  ex- 
plained, but  subordinate  to  this  idea  all  the  rest,  in  such  a  way  as 
to  constitute  a  sort  of  organism,  ha\'ing  its  head,  its  organs,  its 
main  limbs,  and  all  the  means  of  connection  and  of  circulation  by 
which  the  light  of  the  paramount  idea,  emanating  from  the  focus, 
may  be  communicated  to  the  furthest  imrts,  even  to  the  last 
thought,  and  last  word  ;  as  in  the  human  body  the  blood  emerges 
from  the  heart,  and  is  spread  throughout  all  the  tissues,  animating 
and  coloring  the  surface  of  the  skin. 

Thus  only  will  there  be  life  in  the  discoui'se,  because  a  true 
unity  will  reign  in  it, — that  is,  a  natural  unity  resulting  from  an 
interior  development,  an  unfolding  from  within,  and  not  from  an 
artificial  gathering  of  heterogeneous  members  and  their  arbitrary 
juxtaposition.  — Bautain. 

Practical  Rules. 

I.  Address  your  mind  to  the  invention  of  thoughts,  not  words. 
Words  may  be  employed,  but  only  as  auxiliaries. 

II.  Note  down,  or  otherwise  make  sure  of  whatever  relevant 
thoughts  your  mind  can  call  to  its  aid,  irrespective  of  order  or 
mainly  so. 

m.  At  first  be  not  too  scrupulous  on  the  subject  of  relevancy. 
Entertain  whatever  seemingly  good  thoughts  come  to  your  aid  at 
your  call.  Try  them,  push  them  out  to  conclusions.  Perhaps  if 
not  available  themselves  they  will  lead  to  others  that  are. 

rV.  Pursue  invention  in  every  variety  of  circumstance,  in  the 
study  and  out  of  it.  Make  it  the  subject  of  special  and  protracted 
occupation,  and  also  of  occasional  attention,  when  walking  or  rid- 


Chap.  XVII.]        ORGANIC  GROWTH  OF  THE  IDEA.  335 

ing,  when  taking  exercise  or  rest.  One's  very  dreams  at  night  may 
sometimes  be  made  seniceable  for  this  object. 

V.  Make  use  of  former  studies  and  preparations  as  helps  to  in- 
vention rather  than  as  substitutes  for  it. 

Invention  as  thus  practised  will  always  strengthen  but  never 
exhaust  itself.  It  will  become  a  most  delightful  exercise,  causing 
the  mind  to  glow  with  rapture  at  its  new  creations  and  combina- 
tions. While  one  thus  muses  (inventively  meditatas),  the  tire  of 
inspiration  bums  within  him,  and  he  becomes  prepared  to  speak 
with  his  tongue.  — KmDER. 

The  Plan  of  a  Discourse  ''is  the  order  of  the 
things  which  hoAse  to  he  unfolded.  You  must  therefoi-e 
begin  by  gathering  these  togetlier,  whetlier  facts  or  ideas, 
and  examining  eacli  separately,  in  their  relation  to  the 
subject  or  purport  of  the  discourse,  and  in  their  mutual 
bearings  witli  respect  to  it.  Next,  after  liaving  selected 
those  wliich  befit  the  subject,  and  rejecting  tbo.^e  which 
do  not,  yon  mast  marshal  them  around  the  main  idea,  in 
such  a  wavas  to  arranj^e  them  accordinjx  to  their  rank  and 
importance,  with  respect  to  the  result  which  you  have  in 
view.  But,  what  is  worth  still  more  than  even  this  com- 
position or  synthesis,  you  should  try,  when  possible,  to 
draw  forth,  by  analysis  or  deduction,  the  complete  devel- 
opment of  one  single  idea,  which  becomes  not  merely  the 
centre,  but  the  very  principle  of  the  rest.  This  is  tlie 
l)est  manner  of  explaining  or  developing,  because  exist- 
ences are  tlius  produced  in  nature,  and  a  discourse,  to  have 
its  full  value  and  full  efficiency,  should  imitate  her  in  her 
vital  process,  and  j^erfect  it  by  idealizing  that  process." 

In  fact,  reason,  when  thinking  and  expressing  its  thought,  per- 
forms a  natural  function,  like  the  plant  which  germioAtes,  flowers, 
and  bears  fruit.  It  oi>erate8,  indeed,  according  to  a  more  exalted 
power,  but  it  follows  in  the  ()]>omtion  the  same  laws  as  all  beings 
onduoil  with  hfo  ;  f\!i<l  tlio  methods  of  analysis  and  synthesis,  of 


336  INVENTION.  [Pakt  IV. 

deduction  and  induction,  essential  to  it,  have  their  mutual  types 
and  symbols  in  the  vital  acts  of  organic  beings,  which  all  proceed 
likewise  by  the  way  of  expansion  and  contraction,  unfolding  and 
enfolding,  diffusion  and  collection. 

The  most  perfect  plan  is,  therefore,  the  plan  which  organizes 
a  discourse  in  the  manner  nature  constitutes  any  being  fraught 
with  life.  It  is  the  sole  means  of  giving  to  speaking  a  real  and 
natural  imity,  and,  consequently,  real  strength  and  beauty,  which 
consist  in  the  unity  of  life. 

Analogy  to  the  Human  Body. — In  every  discourse,  if  it  have 
life,  there  is  a  parent  idea  or  fertile  germ,  and  all  the  parts  of  the 
discourse  are  like  the  princiiml  organs  and  members  of  an  ani- 
mated body.  The  propositions,  expressions,  and  words  resemble 
those  secondary  organs  which  connect  the  principal,  as  the  nerves, 
muscles,  vessels,  tissues,  attaching  them  to  one  another  and  ren- 
dering them  co-partners  in  life  and  death.  Then  amid  this  animate 
and  organic  mass  there  is  the  spirit  of  life,  which  is  in  the  blood, 
and  is  eveiywhere  diffused  with  the  blood  from  the  heart,  life's 
centre,  to  the  epidermis.  So  in  eloquence  there  is  the  spirit  of 
the  words,  the  soul  of  the  orator,  inspired  by  the  subject,  his  in- 
telligence illumined  with  mental  light,  which  circulates  through 
the  whole  body  of  the  discourse,  and  pours  therein  brightness, 
heat,  and  life.  A  discourse  without  a  parent  idea,  is  a  stream 
without  a  fountain,  a  plant  without  a  root,  a  body  without  a  soul ; 
empty  phrases,  sounds  which  beat  the  air,  or  a  tinkling  cymbal. 

Not  Neic,  hut  Newly. — Nevertheless,  let  us  not  be  misappre- 
hended ;  if  we  say  that  a  discourse  requires  a  parent  idea,  we  do 
not  mean  that  this  idea  must  be  a  new  one,  never  before  conceived 
or  developed  by  any  one.  Were  this  so,  no  more  orators  would 
be  possible,  since  already,  from  Solomon's  day,  there  has  been 
nothing  new  under  the  sun,  and  the  cycle  of  ages  continually 
brings  back  the  same  things  under  different  forms. 

It  is  not  likely,  then,  that  in  our  day  there  should  be  more  new 
ideas  than  in  that  of  the  King  of  Israel ;  but  ideas,  like  all  the 
existences  of  this  world,  are  renewed  in  each  age,  and  for  each 
generation.  They  are  reproduced  under  varied  forms  and  with 
modifications  of  circumstances:  "  Non  nova  sed  nov(^,"  said  Yin- 
cent  of  Lerins.     The  same  things  are  differently  manifested  ;  and 


Chap.  XVIL]  MENTAL  INERTIA.  337 

thus  they  adapt  themselves  to  the  wants  of  men,  whioh  change 
with  time  and  place. 

For  this  reason  the  orator  may,  and  should,  say  ancient  things, 
in  substance  ;  but  he  will  say  them  in  another  manner,  correspond- 
ing with  the  dispositions  of  the  men  of  his  epoch,  and  he  will  add 
the  originality  of  his  individual  conception  and  expression. — Bau- 

TADs'. 

Too  Much  Delay  '^iu  the  composition  of  the  plan, 
when  the  idea  is  ready  and  demands  expression,  is  preju- 
dicial to  tlie  work,  which  may  w^itlior,  perish,  and  be  even 
stifled  in  the  understanding  for  want  of  that  air  and  light 
which  liave  become  indispensable  to  its  life,  and  which  it 
can  derive  only  from  being  set  in  the  open  day." 

There  are  men  who  experience  the  greatest  diflSculty  imaginable 
in  bringing  forth  their  thoughts,  either  from  a  deficiency  of  the 
needful  vigor  to  put  them  forward  and  invest  them  witli  a  suitable 
form,  or  from  a  natural  indolence  which  is  incapable  of  continued 
efforts,  like  those  plants  which  will  never  pierce  the  soil  by  their 
own  unaided  energy,  and  for  which  the  spade  must  l>e  used  at  the 
risk  of  destroying  their  tender  shoots.  This  sluggishness,  or  ra- 
ther incapabihty  of  producing  when  the  time  is  come,  is  a  sign  of 
mental  feebleness,  of  a  species  of  impotency.  It  invariably  be- 
tokens some  signal  defect  in  the  intellectual  constitution,  and 
those  who  are  afflicted  with  it  vsill  write  little,  will  write  that  little 
with  difficulty,  and  will  never  be  able  to  speak  extemporaneously 
in  public, — they  will  never  bo  orators. 

Nevertheless,  even  in  him  who  is  ca])abIo  of  becoming  one, 
there  is  sometimes  a  certain  inertness  and  laziness.  We  have  nat- 
urally a  horror  of  labor,  and  of  all  kinds  the  labor  of  thought  is 
the  hardest  and  the  most  troublesome  ;  so  that  fretjuently,  for  no 
other  reason  than  to  avoid  the  pain  which  must  be  undergone,  a 
person  long  keeps  in  his  own  head  an  idea,  already  jierfectly  ripe, 
and  requiring  only  to  be  put  forth.  He  cannot  bring  himself  to 
take  up  the  pen  and  put  Iiis  plan  into  shape ;  he  procrastinates, 
day  after  day,  under  the  futile  pretext  of  not  having  read  enough, 
not  ha>ing  reflected  enough,  and  that  the  moment  is  not  yet  come, 
wid  that  the  work  will  gain  by  more  prolonged  studies.     Then,  by 


538  INVENTIOK.  [Part  IV. 

this  nnseasonable  delay,  the  fruit  langnishes  in  the  underfitautling 
from  want  of  nourishment ;  falls  l)y  degrees  into  atrophy,  loses  its 
vital  forc«,  and  dies  before  it  is  yet  l)om.  !Many  an  excellent  idea 
thus  perishes  in  the  germ,  or  is  stifled  in  its  development  by  the 
laziness  or  the  debility  of  the  minds  which  have  conceived  them, 
and  which  liave  been  impotent  to  give  them  forth. 

The  Aliniffhty>  gift  i»  lost  through  man's  fault.  This  happens  to  men  otherwise  ditt- 
ttngutehed  and  (rifted  with  rare  qoalititrH,  but  who  dread  the  reMponitibilitips  of  duty  and 
the  prewnre  of  the  circuiuHtancctt  in  which  they  may  become  inv<»lve<l.  Under  pretext  of 
preaerving  their  freedom,  bnt  really  in  order  to  indulge  their  indolence,  they  shun  the  ne- 
ccwdty  of  labor,  with  its  demands  and  its  fatigiMB,  and  thus  deprive  themrielves  of  the 
most  active  stiraulu*  of  intellectual  life.  Given  np  to  themselves.  an<l  fearing  every  ex- 
ternal influence  as  a  bondn  c,  they  pass  their  lives  in  conceiving  without  ever  producing 
—in  reading  without  contributing  anjrthing  of  their  own— in  refleciing,  or  rather  in 
ruminating,  without  ever  either  writing  or  speaking  publicly.  It  would  have  been  happy 
for  R-iich  men  to  have  been  oblige*!  to  work  for  a  living:  for.  in  the  spur  of  want,  their 
mind  would  have  found  a  Rpring  which  it  has  mimed,  and  the  necessity  of  subniKting  by 
labor,  or  positive  hung(>r,  would  have  effected  in  them  what  the  love  of  truth  or  of  glory 
was  not  able  to  acoompIiKh.— Bautaih. 

First,  a  Bold  Outline.— "Beware  of  introducing 
style  into  tlie  arrangement  of  your  plan ;  it  ought  to  be 
like  an  artist's  draught,  the  sketch,  which,  by  a  few  lines 
unintelligi])le  to  everybody  save  him  who  has  traced  them, 
decides  what  is  to  enter  into  the  composition  of  the  pic- 
ture, and  each  object's  place.  Light  and  shadow,  coloring 
and  expression,  will  conie  later." 

Or,  to  take  another  image,  the  j^lan  is  a  skeleton,  the  diy  bonc- 
frarae  of  the  body,  repulsive  to  all  except  the  adept  in  anatomy, 
but  full  of  interest,  of  meaning,  and  of  significance  for  him  who 
has  studied  it  and  who  has  pi*actised  dissection;  for  there  is  not  a 
cartilage,  a  i^rotubei-auce,  or  a  hollow  which  does  not  mark  what 
that  structure  ought  to  sustain — and  therefore  you  have  here  tlio 
whole  body  in  epitome,  the  entire  organization  in  miniature. 

Hence,  the  moment  you  feel  that  your  idea  is  mature,  and  that 
you  are  master  of  it  in  its  centre  and  in  its  radiations,  its  main  or 
tnink  lines,  take  the  pen  and  throw  upon  jjaper  what  you  see,  what 
you  conceive  in  your  mind.  If  you  are  young  or  a  novice,  allow 
the  pen  to  have  its  way  and  the  current  of  thought  to  flow  on. 
There  is  always  life  in  this  first  rush,  and  care  should  be  taken 


Chap.  XVII.]        THE  HEAVY  STROKES   FIRST. 

not  to  check  its  impetus  or  cool  its  ardor.     Let  the  volcanic  lava 
run  ;  it  will  become  fixed  and  crystalline  of  itself. 

Make  your  plan  at  the  first  heat,  if  you  be  impelled  to  do  so, 
and  follow  your  inspiration  to  the  end ;  after  which  let  things 
alone  for  a  few  days,  or  at  least  for  several  hours.  Then  re-read 
attentively  what  you  have  written,  and  give  a  new  form  to  your 
plan ;  that  is,  re-write  it  from  one  end  to  the  other,  leaving  only 
what  is  necessaiy,  what  is  essential.  Eliminate  inexorably  what- 
ever is  accessory  or  suj^erfluous,  and  trace,  engrave  with  cai'e  the 
leading  characteristics  which  determine  the  configuration  of  the 
discourse,  and  contain  within  their  demarcations  the  parts  which 
are  to  compass  it.  Only  take  pains  to  have  the  principal  features 
well  marked,  viN-idly  brought  out,  and  strongly  connected  to- 
gether, in  order  that  the  division  of  the  discourse  may  be  clear  and 
the  links  firmly  welded. 

The  inexperienced  orator  ia  to  oonflne  himself  in  conBtmcting  his  plan  to  the  salient 
fpaturcK  of  hiR  Kiibjcct,  to  lay  down  boldly  the  trunk  lines  of  the  diBcourse,  omitting  all 
flllin»i  up  ;  to  draw  broadly,  with  hatchct-strokea,  so  to  say,  and  not  to  set  about  punc- 
tuating, not  to  get  lost  in  miniitia*,  when  the  business  is  to  mark  out  the  main  ways. 

Another  ativico  which  niiiy  be  given  i^  to  leave  nothing  obncure,  doubtful,  or  vague 
In  tbeflc  otitlineis  and  to  lulin  t  tio  fmture  into  his  sketch  which  docs  not  indicate  M>mc- 
thing  of  importance.  Dy  pmcticc  and  the  directions  of  a  skilful  master,  he  will  Icam  to 
deal  in  thoM  potent  iteiiclllingK  which  expretw  so  much  in  so  small  a  space  ;  and  thi«  it  is 
which  makes  extomp«»rizati(in  so  easy  and  so  copious,  t>ecnu8c  each  i>oint  of  the  plan  be- 
comes in^inct  with  life,  and  by  pri!i<6ing  u|K)n  it  ns  you  pass  iilong  your  discourM}  makes 
it  a  spring  gushing'  with  IiiniinoiiK  idens  and  inexhaustible  expressions. — Bautaim. 

Good  Sense,  Sagacity,  Tact.— "The  right  dis- 
tribution of  yonr  plan  depends  also  on  your  manner  of 
conceiving  your  subject  and  the  end  you  liave  in  view  in 
your  discourse;  nor  have  general  rules  much  practical 
range  even  here.  What  is  required  are,  good  sense,  saga- 
city, and  tact ;  g(K)d  sense  to  see  things  as  they  are,  in  their 
true  light,  or  in  their  most  favorable  aspect,  so  as  not  to 
say  what  will  not  l)efit  the  occasion  ;  sagacity,  to  turn  the 
subject  over,  j)enetrate  it  through,  analyze  it,  anatomize  it, 
and  e.xliibit  it,  first  on  paper,  then  in  speaking ;  tact,  to 
speak  appropriately,  leave  in  the  shade  whatever  cannot 
appear  without  disadvantage,  and  bring  out  into  strong 


340  INVENTION.  [Part  IV. 

light  whatever  is  most  in  your  favor ;  to  put  everything 
in  its  own  place,  and  to  do  all  this  quickly,  with  neatness, 
clearness,  simplicity,  so  that  in  the  very  knot  of  the  state- 
ment of  the  case  may  be  discerned  all  the  folds  and  coils 
of  the  main  idea  about  to  be  united  and  laid  forth  by  the 
discourse." 

An  ill-conceived,  an  ill-divided  plan,  which  does  not  at  once 
land  the  hearer  right  in  the  middle  of  the  subject  and  in  full  pos- 
session of  the  matter,  is  rather  an  encumbrance  than  a  help.  It 
is  a  rickety  scaffolding  which  will  bear  nothing.  It  but  loads  and 
disfigures  the  building  instead  of  serving  to  raise  it. 

Proportion  and  Harmony  "  in  its  parts  contrib- 
ute to  the  beauty  of  a  discourse.  In  all  things  beauty  is 
the  result  of  variety  in  unity  and  of  unity  in  variety.  It 
is  the  necessity  of  oneness  which  assigns  to  each  part  its 
rank,  place,  and  dimensions." 

Frequently  the  exordium  is  too  long,  and  the  peroration  inter- 
minable. There  is  little  or  nothing  left  for  the  middle  ;  and  you 
get  a  monster  with  an  enormous  head,  a  measureless  tail,  and  a 
diminutive  body.  At  other  times  it  is  some  limb  of  the  discourse 
which  is  lengthened  until  the  body  of  the  work  is  out  of  sight,  the 
result  being  a  shocking  deformity,  as  when  a  man  has  long  arms 
or  legs  with  a  dwarfs  body.  The  main  idea  ought  to  come  out  in 
each  part ;  the  hearer  ought  to  be  always  led  bg,ck  to  it  by  the  de- 
velopment of  the  accessory  thoughts,  however  numerous,  these 
having  no  regular  vitality  save  by  the  sustained  circulation  through 
them  of  the  former.  Should  they  grow  and  dilate  too  much,  it 
can  only  be  at  the  cost  of  the  jmrent  idea ;  and  they  must  produce 
deformity  and  a  sort  of  disease  in  the  discourse,  like  those  mon- 
sters when  there  is  any  irregular  or  excessive  growth  of  one  organ, 
through  the  abnormal  congestion  of  the  blood,  thus  withdrawn 
from  the  rest  of  the  organization. — Bautain. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Invention. 

The  ♦•ssay  half  done,  p.  331. 
The  moment  of  action,  p.  331. 

How  to  begin,  p.  332. 
Repress  impatience,  p.  332. 
Development  of  the  idea,  p.  333. 
Reflection  upon  the  idea,  p.  333. 
Organization  of  the  idea,  p.  333. 
Practical  rules,  p.  334. 

I.  Invent  thoughts,  not  words,  p.  334. 
n.  Note  down  thoughts,  p.  334. 
in.  Be  not  too  scrupulous  as  to  relevancy,  p.  334. 
IV.  Pursue  invention,  p.  334. 

V.  Use  former  studies  as  helps  to  invention,  p.  335. 
The  plan  of  a  discourse,  p.  335. 

Analogy  to  the  human  body,  p.  836. 
Not  new  but  newly,  p.  336. 
Too  much  delay,  p.  337. 
First,  a  bold  outline,  p.  838. 
Good  sense,  sagacity,  tact,  p.  380. 
Proportion  and  harmony,  p.  840. 


jQHAPTEU  XV 111. 

STYLE. 

In  all  literature  which  is  genuine,  the  substance  or  matter  is  not  one  thing  and  the 
stylo  an(>ther;  they  are  inseparable.  The  style  is  not  something  superadded  from  with- 
out, as  WK  may  make  a  wooden  house  and  then  paint  it ;  but  it  is  breathed  from  within, 
and  is  instinct  with  the  personality  of  the  writor.  Genuine  literature  exptesscs  uot  ab- 
stract conceptions,  pure  and  colorless,  but  thoughts  and  things,  as  these  are  seen  by 
■ome  individual  mind,  colored  with  all  the  views,  associations,  memories,  and  emotions 
which  belong  to  that  mind.— Shairp. 

Matter  vs.  Manner. — Thus  far  the  student's  atten- 
tion has  been  concentrated  upon  the  what  of  his  thoughts, 
with  very  few  hints  as  to  how  he  should  express  them. 

Tliere  are  those  that  think  this  sufficient. 

'  •  Style  is  nothing  but  the  order  and  movement  in  which  our 
thoughts  run,"  says  one  writer. 

•*  You  have  too  much  style,"  grumbled  an  old  critic.  "  Style  is 
only  a  frame  to  hold  the  thoughts,  as  a  window-sash  holds  the 
panes  of  glass.     Too  much  sash  obscures  the  light." 

'  *  If  you  think  how  you  are  to  write,  you  will  never  write  any- 
thing worth  hearing.  I  write  because  I  cannot  help  it,"  said 
Mozart. 

"When  we  meet  with  the  natural  style  we  are  highly  dehghted, 
because  we  expected  to  see  an  author,  and  we  find  a  man,"  said 
Pascal. 

"  Style,  indeed !"  said  Goethe.  "The  style  of  a  writer  is  almost 
always  the  faithful  representative  of  his  mind.  Therefore  if  any 
one  wishes  to  write  a  clear  style,  let  him  begin  by  making  his 
thoughts  clear  ;  and  if  any  would  write  a  noble  style,  let  him  fiist 
possess  a  noble  soul." 

The  aphorism  popularly  but  perhaps  erroneously  attributed  to 


Chap.  XVIILl  VARYING  OPINIONS  OF  IT.  343 

Bnffon,  that  "The  style  is  the  man,"  is  a  limited  application  of 
the  general  theory  that  there  is  such  a  relation  between  the  mind 
of  man  and  the  si>eech  he  uses,  that  a  perfect  knowledge  of  either 
would  enable  an  acute  psychological  philologist  to  deduce  and 
construct  the  other  from  it. — Mai^sh. 

The  secret  of  good  style  in  writing  is,  that  words  be  used  purely 
in  their  representative  character,  and  not  at  all  for  their  own  sake. 
.  .  .  Tliis  it  is  that  so  highly  distinguishes  Webster's  style — 
the  best  yet  written  on  this  continent.  His  language  is  so  ti-ans- 
parent,  that  in  reading  him  one  seldom  thinks  of  it,  and  can  hardly 
see  it.  In  fact,  the  proper  character  of  his  style  is  perfect,  con- 
summate manliness  ;  in  which  quality  I  make  bold  to  affirm  that 
he  has  no  superior  in  the  whole  range  of  English  authorship. — 
Hudson. 

]>«m,  so  far  an  pomiblo,  to  be  intclliKiblo  and  transpurcnt — lui  notice  taken  of  your 
•tyl«,  but  solely  of  what  you  exprciw  by  it:  this  in  your  clear  rule,  and  if  yon  have  any- 
thing which  in  not  quite  trivial  to  czprcm  to  yoiir  contemirararies,  you  will  And  t^uch  a 
mie  a  great  deal  more  difHcolt  to  follow  than  many  poetic  think. — Cablyi.k. 

Excellent  precept ;  but,  alas  for  performance !  none  ever  broke 
the  rule  more  habitually  than  Carlyle  himself.  The  idiom  which 
he  ultimately  forged  for  himself  was  a  new  and  strange  form  of 
English — rugged,  disjointed,  often  uncouth  ;  in  his  own  phrase, 
"vast,  fitful,  decidedly  fuliginous,"  but  yet  bringing  out  with 
maivellous  vividness  the  thoughts  that  possessed  him,  the  few 
truths  which  he  saw  clearly  and  was  sure  of — while  it  suggested 
not  less  powerfully  the  dark  background  of  ignorance  against 
which  these  truths  shone  out. — Shairp. 

Modem  KngtiAh  literature  ha«  nowhere  any  langua^  to  compare  with  the  style  of 
theae  [Ncwman'H  Parochial]  St-nnonM,  m  simple  and  tnumparent,  yet  »o  mibtle  withal ; 
■o  atrong  and  yet  to  tender ;  the  graitp  of  a  strong  man's  hand,  combined  with  the 
tn^mbling  toiulernoM  of  a  woman's  heart,  expreesing  in  a  few  monosyllables  truth  which 
would  have  co*t  other  men  a  ]wge  of  philoxophlo  verbiage,  laying  the  moet  gentle  y«t 
penetrating  finger  on  the  very  core  of  thinga,  reading  to  men  their  own  moat  Morat 
tbooghtH  better  than  they  knew  them  themiielvM. 

CarlylvH  style  {m  like  the  full  untutored  nring  of  the  giant's  arm ;  Canlinal  New- 
roan's  is  the  luwurol  »ielf-p«)-««>><«i«in.  the  qniet  graoefulnoM  of  the  flnishe<l  athlete.  The 
one,  wh«Mi  ho  m<>nni«  to  bo  efT»Ttlve,  Mcizex  thr  most  vehement  feeHngM  and  the  strongest 
wonis  within  his  n'a<-h,  and  hurls  them  im(K!tu»us|y  at  the  object.  The  other,  with  ilia- 
ciplinetl  mcMlcration  and  delicutc  w^lf-reHtralnt,  nhrinks  iiistir.ctivcly  from  overstatement, 
but  penetrates  more  directly  to  the  core  by  words  of  sober  truth  and  "  virid  exactueai.'*— 


344  STYLE.  [Part  IV. 

At  first  siRht,  Shakspere  and  his  contemporary  dramatisU  seem  to  write  in  styles 
much  alike ;  nothing  so  ea^  as  to  fall  into  that  of  Massinger  and  the  others ;  while  no 
one  haa  ever  yet  prodooed  one  scene  conceived  and  expressed  in  the  Shaksperian  idiom. 
I  snppose  it  is  beoanse  Shakspere  is  universal  and  in  fact  has  no  manner ;  jost  as  you 
can  BO  mnch  more  readUy  copy  a  picture  than  nature  herself.— Coleridok. 

Style  is  of  oonrse  nothing  ehw  but  the  art  of  conveying  the  meaning  appropriately 
and  with  perspicuity,  whatever  that  meaning  may  be,  and  one  criterion  of  style  is  that  it 
shall  not  be  translatable  without  injury  to  the  meaning.  ...  In  order  to  form  a 
good  style  the  primary  mlo  and  OMidition  is.  cot  to  attempt  to  express  onrselves  i&  lan- 
guage before  we  tiioroughly  know  our  own  meaning  :  when  a  man  perfectly  understands 
himwlf,  appropriate  diction  will  generally  bo  at  his  command,  either  in  writing  or  speak- 
ing. In  such  cans  the  thoughts  and  the  words  an  associated.  In  the  next  place,  pre- 
dsenem  in  the  use  of  terms  is  required,  and  the  test  is  whether  you  can  translate  the 
phrase  adequately  into  simple  terms,  reganl  being  had  to  the  feeling  of  the  whole  pas- 
sage. Try  this  upon  Shakspere  or  Hilton,  and  see  if  you  can  substitute  other  simple 
wordh  in  any  given  passage  without  a  violation  of  the  meaning  or  tone.  The  Rource  of 
bad  writing  is  the  deaire  to  be  something  more  than  a  man  of  sense — ^the  straining;  to  be 
thought  a  genius ;  and  it  is  just  the  same  in  speech -making.  If  men  would  only  say  what 
they  have  to  say  in  plain  terms,  how  much  more  eloquent  they  would  be  ! — CouERtDOK. 

On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  view  of  style  that 
makes  it  somethiDg  more  than  habitual,  natural  expression. 
Thus  Matthew  Arnold  says : 

"  Style,  in  my  sense  of  the  word,  is  a  i>eciiliar  recasting  and 
heightening,  under  a  certain  spiritual  excitement,  a  certain  press- 
ure of  emotion,  of  what  a  man  has  to  say,  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
add  dignity  and  distinction  to  it.  .  .  .  Power  of  style,  prop- 
erly so  called,  as  manifested  in  masters  of  style,  like  Dante  and 
Milton  in  poetry,  Cicero,  Bossuet,  and  Bolingbroke  in  prose,  has 
for  its  characteristic  effect  this,  to  add  dignity  and  distinction  to 
it." 

The  best  definitions  of  style  make  it  consist  in  the 
unconscious  but  unavoidable  and  indispensable  smack  of 
individuality  in  the  writer. 

The  best  style  is  not  that  which  puts  the  reader  most  easily  and 
in  the  shortest  time  in  possession  of  a  writer's  naked  thoughts,  but 
that  which  is  the  tmest  image  of  a  great  intellect — which  conveys 
fully,  and  canies  farthest  into  other  souls,  the  concej^tions  and 
feelings  of  a  profound  and  lofty,  spirit. — Changing. 

Science  has  to  do  with  things,  literature  with  thoughts ;  science 


Chap.  XVIIL]        THE  STAMP  OP  INDIVIDUALITY.  345 

18  oniyersal,  literatnre  is  personal ;  science  uses  words  merely  as 
symbols,  and  by  employing  symbols  can  often  dispense  with  words ; 
but  literature  uses  language  in  its  full  compass,  as  including 
phraseology,  idiom,  style,  composition,  rhythm,  eloquence,  and 
whatever  other  qualities  are  included  in  it. — Newman. 

Literature  being  a  fine  art,  as  I  understand  it,  a  literary  man 
can  no  more  help  having  a  style  than  a  painter  his ;  it  may  be 
more  or  less  strongly  marked,  finished  or  faulty,  but  it  cannot  be 
wholly  bad,  or  even  indifferent.  There  is  an  ideal  of  literary  ex- 
pression which  looks  upon  language  as  best  employed  when  it  be- 
comes the  i^erfectly  transparent  medium  of  thought — like  plate- 
glass,  as  advocates  of  this  theory  plirase  it.  It  is  of  course  always 
in  good  taste  to  be  simple,  and  a  plainness  approaching  to  boldness 
is  infinitely  better  than  the  **  fine  "  language,  so  called,  indulged 
in  by  pseudo-cultivated  writers.  But  I  have  never  been  able  to 
accept  the  plate-glass  theory,  and  cannot  help  fancying  that  it  is 
the  unconscious  refuge  of  writers  and  readers  without  any  keen 
apprehension  of  the  charms  of  literaiy  style.  Ease  and  unaffected- 
ness  are  indeed  prime  requisites  of  a  good  style,  but  why  should 
we  forego  the  pleasure  to  be  had  from  other  and  more  positive 
qualities  than  these  ?  The  imperishable  charm  belonging  to  cer- 
tain writers  lies  in  their  style ;  it  is  their  unique  expression  of 
their  thought,  more  than  the  thought  itself,  we  care  for,  as  witness 
many  of  Lamb's  most  delightful  sketches  ;  and  in  the  most  original 
writers  this  characteristic  quality  of  expression  is  so  much  a  jmrt 
of  their  genius  that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  separate  between  sub- 
stance and  form,  the  ideas  and  their  embodiment.  In  fact,  one  is 
sometimes  tempted  to  call  the  thought  the  grosser  particle  in  this 
combination,  or  interpenetration,  so  subtle  and  exquisite  may  be 
the  charm  of  mere  words,  not  only  in  iK>etry,  but  in  imaginative 
proee.— Atlantic  Monthly. 


Take  an  wnunpte,  almoil  at  random,  from  De  Qaluoey.  Siieaking  of  tb«  lUte  of 
English  hymnolonr  at  a  certain  poriod,  he  calls  it  "  the  howling  wildcmeMi  of  pwlmody.** 
"Ah,"  says  a  pedantic  critic,  "ihnt  is  rhetoric."  Very  well :  strip  it  of  its  '*  rhetorio,'* 
and  yet  exproM  the  same  idea  in  its  picnitnde,  if  yon  can.  It  is  impomtlble.  Von  cannot 
drop  that  figure,  and  yet  expnes  the  aune  Und  snil  the  same  volume  of  thcHiRht  If  any 
«>ne  thinks  he  can,  we  are  very  safe  In  reeponding,  **  Try  iu"  A  pit«co  of  Rtintia  Iron  is 
not  the  same  thing  whf  n  mrlttHl  siul  cumpactod  and  moulded  into  a  slug. 

Analyse  a  fragment  from  RiiHkin.  whoM!  style  is  often  thought  personified.  He 
wtabea  to  aipfe«  vividly  the  Idea  that  foebleneai  in  art  is  antruthtQlnen  In  efleofc.    He 


346  STYLE.  [Part  IV. 


writes,  therefore,  of  the  "  ttnujdMm  mtkmtun  of  the  nnnnwr  mind,  which  henp«  iu  fure- 
Rroiind  with  ooloaMd  coltimii%  and  heavea  tmpoaiible  mounUins  into  the  encttmlx-red 
sky.*'  Buskin  here  aneonaoioiiidj  tmHarm  his  thought  by  hit  vocsbolary  and  syntax. 
Strip  it  of  that  imitatiaii  of  aiiiM  by  MWid  and  aCructarc,  and  what  have  you  left  ?  Say 
aomethlng  else  than  "  he«vM  impoMJhle  moiuitain«  into  the  enoombered  aky.*"  Say  this, 
at  a  renture,  "A  poor  artist  paints  moantains  which  could  never  have  exi(ito«i,  in  a  sky 
which  cannot  conveniently  h<rid  them.**  Have  yon  parted  with  no  thought  in  losing  the 
imitative  adroitness  of  BosUn^s  style  f  In  sach  examples  thought  no  maKtcm  cx^rc^ion, 
and  yokes  it  to  use,  that  style  itself  becomes  thoaght.  Ton  cannot  separate  them  by  the 
change  of  so  mooh  as  a  igrUable  without  loss. — l*nu.M. 

We  are  prone  to  regard  litcratnre  as  a  strictly  inteUectoal  nianifeftation,  when,  never- 
thrlem.  the  inokt  ixmsenrative  or  preservative  element  of  literature— humor— is  scarcely 
an  intellectual  quality  at  alL  It  belongs  rather  to  the  emfiUoaai  side  of  the  mind.  The 
dry  light  of  pure  reason  has  the  charm  of  flattering  oar  selfeflteem  by  giving  or  Hecming 
to  give  UH  an  insight  into  the  realities  of  things :  but  it  has  the  defect  of  wnuting  individ- 
uality :  it  atuina  its  present  state  just  in  proportion  ss  it  discards  all  pemonnl  flHvor,  and 
appitMiches  a  sort  of  algebraic  impersonality.  And  when  an  exceptional  mind,  like  Bacon's, 
BDOceedn  in  burnishing  reason  into  wit,  it  retains  its  hold  npon  our  sympathioi,  not  be- 
oanae  of  itK  truth,  but  because  that  truth  is  stated  with  a  perspicuity  and  brilliance  iiccul- 
iar  to  lUcon,  depending  not  upon  the  extent  of  Bacon'fi  information,  but  upon  the  ad- 
mirable strength  and  subtlety  of  his  mental  fscultJep.  In  onler  to  realize  this,  wc  have 
only  to  reflect  that  the  same  truth,  otherwise  organized  and  presented  by  an  inferior  In- 
tel ligenoe,  would  fail  to  establish  a  hold  upon  us.  What  really  fascinates  ur  is  not  the 
white  unmodified  glare  of  the  absolute,  but  the  various-colored  rays  produced  by  the  pas- 
sage ot  that  glare  through  the  finite  medium  of  human  minds ;  and  however  diligently 
the  generations  of  men  may  celebrate  the  eternal  verities,  nothing  is  more  likely  than 
that  the  eternal  verities,  considered  In  themselves,  have  but  the  faintest  attraction  for 
mankind.  It  belongs  to  our  natme  that  we  should  be  to  ourselves  of  paramount  mutual 
interest ;  and  the  ground  of  this  interest  is  humor  in  its  broadest  sense.  But  humor — 
literary  humor  especially — has  been  conventionally  limited  to  a  namiwer  significance 
than  this,  and  its  possession  in  any  noticeable  degree  is  limited  to  comparatively  few 
writers.  Like  tone  in  painting  and  expression  in  music,  it  is  a  matter  of  temperament ; 
and  its  value,  when  genuine,  is  as  permanent  and  as  inexhaustible  as  human  nature 
itself  .—Ts«  Spectator. 

Natural nesSy  therefore,  so  far  from  being  opposed 
to  style,  is  the  one  thing  a  good  stjle  secures. 

Whenever  a  man  poetically  gifted  expresses  his  best  thoughts 
in  his  best  woi'iis,  then  we  have  the  style  which  is  natural  to  him, 
and  which,  if  he  be  a  true  poet,  is  sure  to  be  a  good  style. — 
Shairp. 

What  is  naturalness  of  style  ?  We  answer,  those  qualities  which 
are  found  peculiar  to  an  individual  wJien  science  and  art  have  de- 
veloped rrhat  is  good  and  removed  what  is  bad  among  his  personal 
characteristics.  It  is  only  by  knowledge  and  training  that  our 
natural  gifts  and  energies  can  be  discovered  and  distinguished 


Chap.  XVIII.]  NATURALNESS.  34T 

from  such  wrong  prejudices  and  bad  habits  as  are  the  results  of 
false  instruction  eurly  in  life. 

Naturalness  may  be,  and  often  is,  understood  to  be  that  quality 
which  is  peculiar  to  an  individual,  or  peculiar  to  that  which  is 
written  or  spoken  by  him  spontaneously  on  any  occasion,  at  any 
period  of  life.  In  this  sense  the  communications  of  the  most  ig- 
norant and  immature  minds  have  a  seeming  naturalness ;  but  in 
many  cases  of  this  kind  it  is  ultimately  found  that  what  seemed 
natural  was  sheer  affectation,  the  checkered  effect  of  indiscriminate 
imitation,  or  the  random  effusion  of  brazen  independence,  or  else 
the  modest  mistake  of  one  who  has  a  wrong  object  or  an  unwise 
aim. — HER^'EY. 

The  End  in  View  on  the  writer's  part  should  be 
exact  expression  of  hi.s  tliought.  Tliis  is  a  difficult  attain- 
ment. Of  all  arts  the  art  of  speech  is  most  intricate,  its 
mastery  most  delicate.  Some  of  his  sentences  will  cost 
tlie  beginner  hours,  days,  weeks.  The  most  clever  and 
experienced  writer  will  weigh  synonyms  in  his  mind  be- 
fore he  pens  his  last  paragra})li.  ]^ut  the  artist  is  distin- 
guished from  the  artisan  in  that  he  will  accept  no  ill-titting 
word  or  phrase.  Long  as  the  search  may  be,  he  will  turn 
his  thought  over  and  over  in  his  mind  till  it  has  clothed 
itself  in  the  verbal  garb  that  alone  betits  it. 

Sydney  Smith  said  of  Dr.  Parr,  "  He  never  seems  hurried  by 
his  subject  into  obvious  [inentablo]  language.**  In  other  words, 
his  thoughts  were  never  clearly  defined  ;  he  was  contented  with 
vague,  general,  botchy  expression. 

The  collocation  of  words  is  so  artifllcial  in  Shak8i)ere  and  Milton, 
that  you  may  as  well  think  of  pushing  a  brick  out  of  a  wall  with 
your  forefinger,  as  attempt  to  remove  a  word  out  of  any  of  their 
finished  passages. 

The  amotion  or  transposition  will  alter  the  thought,  or  the  feel- 
ing, or  at  least  the  tone.  They  are  as  pieces  of  mosaic  work, 
from  which  yoti  cannot  strike  out  the  smallest  block  without  mak« 
ing  a  hole  in  the  pictunv  —  />-/«.-•/....;./  f^'^^r. 


348  STYLE.  [Part  IV. 

Cowper  possessed  above  all  other  modem  poets  the  power  of 
bending  the  most  stubborn  and  intractable  wordH  in  the  language 
around  liis  thinking,  so  as  to  fit  its  every  indentation  and  irregu- 
larity of  outline,  as  a  ship-carpenter  adjusts  the  planking,  grown 
flexible  in  his  hands,  to  the  exact  mould  of  his  vessel. — Hugh 

MlLLEB. 

We  prooeod  to  a  more  fwrtlciUar  examinatioa  of  that  particular  quality  of  style  which 
renders  it  intelligible.  We  denominate  it  plainneee.  A  thing  is  plain  (planus),  when  it 
is  laid  out  open  and  unooCh  t^pou  a  lerel  mrface.  An  object  is  in  plain  sight  when  the 
form  and  shape  of  it  are  distinetlj  visible.  Chaooer,  in  his  "  Canterbury  Tales,''  makes 
the  franklin,  the  English  freeholder  of  his  day,  to  say,  when  called  upon  f<u-  his  story : 

I  never  lemed  rhetorike  certain. 

Thing  that  I  speke,  it  mote  be  bare  and  plain. 

This  quotation  shows  that  in  Chauoer's  time  rhetoric  was  the  opposite  of  a  lucid  and 
distinct  presentation  of  truth.  In  his  age  it  had  become  excessively  artificial  in  its  prin- 
ciples, and  altogether  meclianical  iu  its  applications.  Hence  the  plain,  clear-headed 
Batfishman,  whose  story  turns  out  to  be  told  with  a  simplicity  and  perspicuity  and 
rsciness  that  renders  it  truly  eloquent,  8uppot«d  that  it  must  necessarily  be  faulty  lit 
style,  because  his  own  good  eeam  and  keen  eye  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  discourse 
in  the  affected  and  falt>e  rhetoric  of  the  school  of  that  day.  For  this  plainness  of  style  is 
the  product  of  f<agacity  an*l  keenness.  A  sagacious  understanding  always  speaks  in  plain 
terms.    A  keen  vision  detwribes  like  an  eye-witness.— Shedd. 

Once  more :  Mastery  of  language  includes  a  retentive  control  of  a  vocabulary',  and  of 
varieties  of  English  construction,  by  which  they  shall  always  be  at  hand  7or  unconscious 
use.  Do  we  not  often  fret  for  the  right  word,  which  is  just  outside  the.  closed  door  of 
memory  ?  We  know  that  there  is  such  a  word  ;  we  know  that  it  is  precisely  the  word  we 
want ;  no  other  can  fill  its  place  ;  we  saw  it  mentally  a  short  half-hour  ago,  but  we  beat 
the  air  for  it  now.  The  power  we  crave  is  the  power  to  store  words  within  reach,  and 
hold  them  in  mental  reserve  till  they  are  wante<l,  and  then  to  summon  them  by  the  un- 
conscious vibration  of  a  thought.  Nothing  can  give  it  to  us  but  study  and  use  of  the 
language  in  long-continued  and  critical  practice.  It  is  the  slow  fruitage  of  a  growing 
mind. 

Walter  Scott,  for  instance,  saunters  through  the  streets  of  Edinburgh,  and  overhears 
a  word,  which,  in  its  colloquial  connections,  expresses  a  shade  of  thought  which  is  novel 
to  him.  He  pauses,  and  makes  a  note  of  it.  and  walks  on,  pondering  it,  till  it  has  made 
a  nest  for  itself  in  his  brain  :  and  at  length  that  word  reappears  in  one  of  the  most 
graphic  scenes  in  the  '*  Fortunes  of  Nigel."     .     .     . 

Washington  Irving  relates  that  he  was  once  riding  with  Thomas  Moore  in  Paris, 
when  the  hackney  coach  went  suddenly  into  a  rut,  out  of  which  it  came  with  such  a  jolt 
as  to  send  their  heads  bumping  against  the  roof.  "By  Jove,  I've  got  it !  "  cried  Moore, 
clapping  his  hands  in  great  glee.  *•  Got  what?  "  said  Irving.  "Why,"  said  the  poet, 
"  that  word  which  I've  been  hunting  for  for  six  weeks  to  complete  my  last  song.  That 
rascally  driver  has  jolted  it  out  of  me."— Phelps. 

To  affect  a  particular  style  is  of  course  ridiculous. 
Whatever  possible  value  an  essay  may  have  comes  from 


Chap.  XVUI.]  NATURALNESS.  349 

its  expression  of  the  genuine  thought  of  the  writer.  If 
his  thoughts  be  noble,  and  he  be  able  to  give  them  ade- 
quate expression,  his  essay  will  be  noble ;  but  if  his 
thoughts  are  trivial,  and  he  tries  to  express  them  in  such 
language  as  some  one  lias  used  to  express  noble  thoughts,  his 
weazened  thoughts  will  seem  all  the  more  shrunken  in  the 
flowing  word-garments  that  flap  around  them.  Besides, 
small  thoughts  have  a  place  and  a  value  as  well  as  great 
ones.  David  could  not  fight  in  Saul's  armor,  but  when 
fitly  clad  in  his  mountain  costume  he  could  do  execution 
impossible  to  the  burly  king. 

I  aped  Johnson,  I  preached  Johnson.  It  was  a  youthful  folly, 
a  very  great  folly.  I  might  as  well  have  attempted  to  dance  a 
hornpipe  in  the  dress  of  Gog  and  Magog.  My  puny  thoughts 
could  not  sustain  the  load  of  words  in  which  I  tried  to  clothe 
them. — Robert  Hall. 

Aim  at  things,  and  youi*  words  will  be  right  without  aiming. 
Guard  against  love  of  display,  love  of  singularity,  love  of  seeming 
original.  Aim  at  meaning  what  you  say,  and  saying  what  you 
mean. — Newman. 

But  if  he  is  a  thinker,  who  has  seen  some  great  truths  more 
penetratingly,  and  has  felt  them  more  profoundly  than  other  men 
have  done,  then  in  this  sense  a  thinker  Carlyle  certainly  was. 
Isolated  truths  there  may  liave  been,  but  isolated  truths  were  all 
he  cared  or  hoped  to  see  ;  he  felt  too  keenly  the  mystery  of  things 
ever  to  fancy  that  ho  or  any  ether  man  would  see  them  all  in  well- 
rounded  harmony.  It  was  just  because  he  saw  and  felt  some 
truths  so  keenly,  that  he  was  enabled  to  paint  them  in  words  so 
vividly.  It  was  the  insight  that  was  in  him  which  made  him  a 
word-painter ;  without  that  insight  word-painting  becomes  a  mere 
trick  of  words. — Shaibp. 

An  amndng  •oooant  ia  giT«n  by  Lord  Ma«anl*7  of  a  crMoian  by  Sheridan  apon  tb« 
•tyle  uid  BUMUMT  of  Mr.  Pox  and  Lord  Btormont  in  th«  Britith  P»rilam«nt.  8h«ridAn 
had  retoraad  on*  momtng  from  the  meeCinc  of  Pariiament,  and  a  Mend  aakad  him  for 
the  newa  of  the  day.  He  rei>lied  that  ha  had  en  joyed  a  lai«h  over  the  tpaMhcv  of  tho« 
tiro  men.  He  wUd  that  Lord  Stormoat  began  Iqr  deolaring  In  a  ilow,  ■olein,  nawJ  Maa»- 
ton*  that,  "when— he— ooiuua«red— theenormiqr— and  the    unoonaUtntional    tendency 


350  STYLE.  [Part  IV. 

—of  the  meMoreH— )iMt-|iropoMd,  he  vaa— hnrriod— iiway  in  a— torrent— of  pawion— 
»nd  a— whirlwind— of  lin-pet-u-o»-l-ty."  Mr.  Pox  he  described  an.  risiiig  with  a  Rpring 
to  his  feet,  and  beginning,  with  thv  rapidity  of  liKhtninK,  thn^ :  "  Mr.  Speaker  such  is 
Uie  maonUutte  aarh  the  imporuinr  tsuch  the  vital  iiUereti  uf  the  question  that  I  cannot 
bat  in^i)U»re  I  cannot  but  adjur*  the  Houne  to  oome  to  it  with  the  utmost  oatmnen  the 
otmoat  coolneM  tbe  ntaraik  tf«tt'«rci/io»."— Pajcura. 

The  False  Idea  that  style  is  something  superim- 
posed, like  a  cupola,  upon  a  structure  that  would  be  com- 
plete without  it,  has  led  to  false  views  of  the  province  of 
rhetoric,  and  to  false  ideals  on  tlie  part  of  young  writere. 

"  For  esteeming  any  man  purely  on  account  of  his  rhetoric,  I 
would  as  soon  choose  a  pilot  for  a  good  head  of  hair,"  said  Sen- 
eca. But  rhetoric  is  to  the  statesman  what  skill  is  to  the  pilot. 
The  statesman  may  be  a  traitor,  in  spite  of  great  oratorical  ability ; 
and  the  pilot  may  be  in  league  with  wreckers,  however  accurate 
his  knowledge  of  the  coast  and  of  the  vessel.  But  rhetoric  will 
enable  the  statesman  to  say  what  he  means,  and  to  say  it  convinc- 
ingly, thus  insuring  him  against  blundering  and  weakness  ;  just  as 
skill  will  secure  the  pilot  against  unwittingly  mnning  upon  a  hid- 
den rock. 

That  rhetorical  skill  is  not  universal  or  undesirable  in  office-hold- 
ers may  be  inferred  from  the  following  official  notices.  (See  also 
pages  297-300.) 

The  Connecticut  Legislature  passed  a  bill  for  paying  the  town  clerk  of  New  Haven  for 
**  time  spent  in  deciphering  those  portions  of  the  town  records  which  are  partly  or  wholly 
illegible.'"  How  much  time  was  used  by  the  clerk  in  deciphering  wholly  illegible  reconls 
is  not  stated. 

A  poet  in  Ansonia,  Conn. ,  bore  a  card  with  the  following  inscription  : 

*'  There  did  a  young  Pig  Stray  away  on  the  18th  of  the  present  month  from  george 
thomas  of  West  Ansonia  or  Wendy  Hill  any  person  or  persons  Seeing  or  giving  informa- 
tion of  the  Pig  would  confer  a  great  fever  on  the  a  Bove." 

The  pig  is  supposed  to  have  gone  after  a  spelling-book. 

A  Common  Councilman  who  was  on  the  Committee  of  Public  Instruction  in  Fall 
River,  Mass.,  drafted  the  following  order  : 

"  Ordered  that  the  super  in  tender  of  streets  is  heir  By  orthorized  2  erect  and  mantane 
2  street  lites  on  John  street." 

Their  list  of  unprotected  and  imprisoned  animals  noted  one  day  last  week  such  hith- 
erto unheard  of  creatures  as  "  too  nufoodlcn  dogs ""  and  "  four  littel  kreem  collord  doges.'' 
Divers  companions  In  misery  are  described  with  equal  fidelity  as  ' '  won  yeller  dog  "  and 
"  aevun  broun  doge."  If  to  a  wretched  animars  death  could  be  added  a  i>ang,  it  would 
be  the  knowledge  that  his  obituary  calletl  him  a  littel  kreem  coll«ti  doge.— iV.  Y.  Tribune. 


Chap.  XVIH.]     PRACTICAL  VALUE  OF  RHETORIC.  351 

The  late  Hon.  Caleb  Gushing  of  Massachusetts  anient  the  larger 
part  of  his  mature  life  as  a  member  of  legislative  bodies.  For 
years  ho  was  the  Mentor  of  the  Massachusetts  Legislature  at  a 
time  when  his  politics  put  him  always  in  a  minority  on  any  polit- 
ical measure.  Yet  he  saved  the  State  from  much  unconstitutional 
legislation  by  his  power  of  command  over  the  English  language. 
It  has  been  said  that  no  suit  at  law  is  known  lo  have  been  brought 
into  court  by  any  lawyer,  in  which  the  success  of  the  suit  de- 
pended on  proving  to  be  unconstitutional  or  defective  any  statute 
of  which  Caleb  Gushing  had  the  control  in  the  committee  which 
framed  it.  He  was  able  to  say,  and  to  assist  legislators  to  say,  so 
exactly  what  was  meant,  that  no  clear-headed  advocate  could  mis- 
understand the  statute,  or  find  a  flaw  in  it  by  which  to  sustain  a 
lawsuit.  The  explanation  of  that  mre  power  of  his  of  precise  ut- 
terance, as  given  by  those  who  knew  him  best,  is,  that  he  read 
and  conversed  in  half-a-dozen  languages,  and  made  language  the 
study  of  his  life.— Phelps. 

Th©  Qualities  of  style  may  be  considered  under  the 
heads  of 


p 


UllITY, 

IIOI'HIKTY, 

UECISION, 

KIISPICUITY. 

OWER, 

ERFKCTION. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 
Style. 

Matter  vs.  Manner,  p.  842. 

On  the  other  hand,  p.  344. 

The  best  definitions,  p.  344. 

Naturahiess,  p.  340. 

The  end  in  view,  p.  347. 

Affecting  a  particular  style,  p.  348. 

The  false  idea  that  style  is  superimposed,  p.  850. 

The  Qualities  of  stvln.  n.  :)51. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PURITY. 

Bat  bow  can  Parity,  which  it  merely  a  negative  quality,  the  abrnnce  of  grou  blan- 
den,  be  considered  an  element  of  Style,  which  is  the  positiye  manifestation  of  indi- 
Tidaality  ?  I  reply,  as  cleanliness  is  an  attribute  of  beauty  of  countenance,  not  entering 
into  it,  but  essential  to  it.  Besides,  a  scrupulous  regard  for  correctness  is  in  itself  a  mani- 
featatioQ  of  individuality,  and  a  most  pleasing  one  when  not  excessive. 

Purity  requires  tlie  use  of  (i.)  English  Words,  (ii.)  in 
accordance  with  Authorized  Definitions,  (iii.)  in  Gram- 
matical Construction.  In  accordance  with  the  usual  classi- 
fication, subdivisions  (ii.)  and  (iii.)  will  be  considered  un- 
der the  head  of  Propriety. 

Purity,  it  was  said,  implies  three  things.  Accordingly  in  three 
different  ways  it  may  be  injured.  First,  the  words  may  not  be 
English.  This  fault  liath  received  from  grammarians  the  denomi- 
nation of  barbarism.  Secondly,  the  constniction  of  the  sentence 
may  not  be  in  the  English  idiom.  This  liath  got  the  name  of 
solecism.  Thirdly,  tlie  words  and  jihrases  may  not  be  employed 
to  exi)re8s  the  precise  meaning  which  custom  hath  affixed  to  them. 
This  is  termed  impropriety. — Campbell. 

(I.)  English  Words  are  those  accepted  by  (a)  Pres- 
ent, (b)  National,  (c)  Kepiitable  Usage. 

(a)  Present  Usage  excludes  words  that  are  (1)  Ob- 
solete, or  (2)  Xovel.  Tlio  general  rule  has  been  thus 
expressed: 

B«  not  the  flnt  by  whom  the  new  is  tried. 
Nor  jet  the  iMt  to  hty  tlM  old 


354  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

(1)  Obsolete  Words  are  those  once  in  good  usage 
that  have  pjissed  out  of  speech  and  writing. 

Thus,  Thackeray,  putting  a  novel  into  the  fonn  of  an  autobiog- 
raphy of  the  age  of  Queen  Anne,  has  these  expressions  :  ''And  so 
the  Sylvester  night  passed  away  ;  "  "Our  troops  were  drawn  up  in 
battalia ; "  **  Who  resplended  in  purple  and  gold  lace.*' 

Excnnples,— Spenser,  pathetic,  speaks  of  a  lady's  face  "blub- 
bered with  tears,**  and  Hooker  in  a  grave  sermon  warns  sinners  of 
the  grave  danger  of  *•  popping  down  into  the  pit" — Mabsh. 

As  («  the  waj  I  itenerated, 
A  rarmll  peraon  I  obTiated, 
iDtarogatinK  timeB  tnmriUtion, 

lly  apprehendon  did,  ingenkma,  aoan 

That  he  wu  meerely  •  ■impIitUn. 

80,  when  I  nw  he  wa«  extravagant. 

Unto  the  ohacnre  vulgar  oonaonant, 

I  had  him  Taniah  most  promiacaoiuly, 

And  not  contaminate  my  company. — RowzamMi,  1000. 

**  Whereas,  yf,  in  his  true  speech,  he  has  asked  him  what  was 
the  clock,  and  which  ha<l  bin  his  way,  his  ignorance  might  of 
the  simplitian  been  informed  in  both." — Versteoan  :  A  Bestitu- 
tiofiy  etc. 

(2)  Novelties  are  either  (a)  wholly  new  words,  (y9) 
expansions  or  contractions  of  old  words,  or  (7)  combina- 
tions of  old  words. 

(a)  New  Words  are,  in  any  spoken  language,  not 
only  inevitable  but  desirable.  Their  coinage  should,  how- 
ever, be  restricted  by  the  following  principles  : 

1.  j^ew  Things  a?id  N&w  Thoughts  need  new  words. 
Shakspere's  yemacular  could  have  had  no  word  that 
represents  oxygen  ;  Addison  never  had  occasion  to  speak 
of  the  phonograph.  "  How  could  the  idea  of  2i post-office 
be  expressed  in  Greek,"  asks  De  Quincey,  "  or  the  idea  of 
a  coquette  in  Hebrew  ? "     As  civilization  invents,  distin- 


Chap.  XIX.]  NEW  WORDS.  365 

giiisheB)  refines,  its  vocabulary  must  keep  pace  with  its 
ideas. 

Technical  Words. 

Necessity. — It  is  occasionally  lamented  that  we  give 
to  new  things  and  thoughts  new  words  derived  from  the 
Greek,  instead  of  words  made  up  by  combination  of  famil- 
iar words.  Such  critics  would  have  us  call  the  telegraph 
the  "  far-ofF-writer,"  the  telephone  the  "  far-ofF-speaker," 
etc.  The  shallowness  of  this  criticism  has  been  exposed 
by  Marsh.     lie  says : 

The  simple  word  verb  is  preferable  to  any  other  designation, 
not  because  when  we  study  etymology  we  find  it  truly  descriptive 
as  indicating  the  relative  importance  of  this  word  in  the  period, 
but  precisely  for  the  opposite  reason,  namely,  that  to  English  ears 
it  is  not  descriptive  at  all,  but  purely  arbitrary,  and  therefore  is 
susceptible  of  exact  definition,  and  not  by  its  very  form  sugges- 
tive of  incongruous  images  or  mistaken  theory.     .     .    . 

Oar  sabstantiTe  (uM,  for  iniitanoe,  U  Latin,  but  for  want  of  a  native  term,  we  enipl<^ 
it  as  a  conjugate  nonn  to  the  adjective  »our,  and  it  Hba  become  almost  as  familiar  a  word 
as  Koar  itaelf.  Cheuiittry  adopted  a<M  as  the  technical  name  of  a  clam  of  bodies  of 
which  those  flmt  reoognized  in  nclcnce  were  recopniied  by  sonmcss  of  ta«tc.  But  as 
chrmicsl  knowledge  advsnocd,  it  wan  diw-Mvere*!  thnt  there  were  componndH  preciwlj 
analoKims  in  SMential  character  which  were  not  Hotir,  and  consequently  acidity  was  but 
an  aocidcntHl  quality  of  «omo  of  these  bodicN  not  a  neoownry  or  imivcrml  chKractcrintio 
of  all.  It  wait  thonght  Um  late  to  chnoin?  the  nnmc,  and  Rcoordingly  in  all  the  European 
langnages  the  term  tu-id,  or  its  rtymolo({ical  equivalent,  in  now  applied  to  rock  crystal, 
quartz,  and  flint.  In  like  manner,  from  n  niinilar  misapplication  of  mil  in  scientific  use. 
cheniata  otaaa  the  sobstanoe  of  whioh  iank-botUes,  French  niimirt«,  windows,  and  opera- 
glasM*  an  made  ailionff  tlie  Mito,  whUa,  on  the  other  band,  nnalyHtH  have  declared  that 
th«  MHBtial  chanwtMT  not  only  of  oUmt  ra-oalled  naltx,  but  also  of  common  kitchen-salt, 
the  salt  of  salts,  had  been  mistaken ;  that  salt  is  not  a  mlt^  and  acoordingly  have  ex- 
doded  that  sobstanoe  from  the  class  of  bodies  upon  which,  as  their  truest  representative, 
it  had  bestowed  its  nsme.    .    .    . 

In  tha  nomanelaUireof  ohemlatry,  to  designate  the  bodiea  which,  because  analrais  to 
not  jai  oarrtod  bejood  them,  are  provfarionally  termed  simple  KuhotanccH,  we  employ 
Oredc  eoaqpamiii.  ilvfnC  to  them  bjr  formal  daflnftkm,  and  therefore  arliitrarlly,  a  pre- 
cise, dtottnet.  rlgoroady  aolentlflo  meaning,  endnding  all  other  direct  or  collateral, 
proper  or  Bgnwrtlira  ^JgniSonMoaa.  In  the  German  diemical  nomenclature  thcrn  bodies 
arededgniHd  by  Tentonio  oonpoonda  dariTad  flnom  roots  as  trivial  an  any  in  the  Ian- 
goaga.    The  words  eorkon,  *|W>rofin,  eoRMwn,  nMrogwn,  emplojred  in  Bnglisb,  do  not 


356  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

recall  their  tiymoloar,  and  their  meaning  is  gathered  only  from  technical  definition. 
They  expreia  the  entire  ecientific  notion  of  the  objectn  they  sUnd  fur,  and  are  abridged 
definitions,  or  rather  tignn  of  definitions,  of  those  objects.  They  are  to  the  English  stu- 
dent as  purely  intellectual  symbols  as  the  signs  of  addition,  subtraction,  and  equality  in 
algebra,  or,  to  use  a  more  appropriate  simile,  as  their  intials  C  for  carbon,  H  for  hydro- 
gen, O  for  oxygen,  and  the  like,  which,  in  conjunction  with  numerals,  are  used  in  ex- 
pressing  quantitative  proportions  in  primary  oombinMtions.  The  corresponding  Oemum 
compODnd^  Kohl  SU>fr,  Waaser-Stoff,  Sauer-Stoff,  and  Stick-StolT,  coat-$iuf,  toater- 
ttMf,  »OHr*tnff.  and  chnk«9tuf,  express,  each,  only  a  single  one  of  the  characteristics  of 
the  body  to  which  they  are  applied,  to  aay  nothing  of  the  unphilosophical  tendency  of 
thus  grossly  materializing  and  vulgarizing  our  ooooeption  <rf  agencies  lo  sabCile  and 
ethflvenl  in  their  nature. 

Of  a  like  necessity  in  metaphysics,  Coleridge  says  : 

"  Yon  ask  me  why  t  tie*  trord*  that  need  explanation  t  Because  (I  reply)  un  this 
enbject  there  are  no  others !  Becaose  the  darkness  and  the  main  difficulties  that  attend 
it  are  owing  to  the  vagueness  and  ambiguity  of  the  words  in  commcHi  use,  and  which 
preclude  all  explanation  for  him  who  has  resolved  that  none  is  required.  Becanse  there 
is  ahready  a  falsity  in  the  very  phrases,  '  wotds  in  common  ose,'  *  the  language  of  com- 
mon sense.*  Wonls  of  taoA  frequent  nse  th^  may  be,  oommon  they  are  nut :  but  the 
language  of  the  market,  and,  as  such,  expressing  degreee  only,  and  therefore  incompe- 
tent to  the  puri)o.-w  whenever  it  becomes  necessary  to  designate  the  kind  independent  of 
all  degree.  The  philosopher  may  and  often  does  employ  the  same  words  as  in  the  mar- 
ket ;  but  does  this  supersede  the  necessity  of  a  previous  explanation  ?  As  I  referred  you 
before  to  the  botanist,  so  now  to  the  chemist.  Light,  heat,  charcoal,  are  every  man's 
words.  "Bnt  fixed  or  invisible  light  ?  The  froten  heat  ?  Charcoal  in  its  simplest  form  as 
diamond,  or  as  black-lead  ?  Will  a  stranger  to  chemistry  be  worse  off,  would  the  chem- 
ist's language  be  less  likely  to  be  understood  by  his  using  different  words  for  distinct 
meanings,  as  carbon,  caloric,  and  the  like  ?  " 

Proper  Use. — Unusual  technical  words  should  be  em- 
ployed only  where  scientific  accuracy  is  demanded  and  ex- 
pected. To  insert  into  speech  or  writing  intended  for  the 
public  a  phraseology  adapted  only  to  the  prof  essional  study 
indicates  pedantry,  if  not  empiricism. 

The  bulletins  of  the  condition  of  the  late  President  Garfield 
during  his  illness  gave  opportunity  for  criticism.  Here  are  some 
translations  by  the  New  York  Sun. 


ENGLISH. 

He  is  out  of  his  head  at  times. 


MKDIOAI.. 

Sometimes  upon  awaking  from  sleep  he 
has  had  temporary  hallucinations,  such 
as  might  have  been  expecte»l  in  a  patient  in  his  condition.  These  manifestations  are 
caused  by  the  want  of  perfect  nutrition  for  the  brain  and  by  the  toxic  condition  of  the 
system.— Db.  Bliss,  August  22. 


Chap.  XIX.]  TECHNICAL  WORDS.  357 


Judging  from  the  reporU,  I  concluded 
th«  lymptomB  of  pyeemia  existed  prior  to 
the  op«ntion  made  for  the  opening  of  the 
flrat  abnoees  or  Ant.  collection  of  confined 


The  ptu  hail  probably  been  poisoning 
the  bloud  for  a  month.  There  is  no  doubt 
of  it  now.  In  such  cases  the  patient  is 
likely  to  die. 


pas.  If  any  donbC  bad  existed  prior  to  the  appearance  of  the  inflamed  condition  of  the 
parotid  gland  as  regards  pysemia  being  prt^itent  and  acting  an  important  part  in  the  con- 
catenation of  the  President's  system,  none  can  exist  now.  Pyaemia  occnrrmg  daring  the 
progress  of  severe  surgical  injuries  is  regarded  as  of  the  utmost  gravity,  and  as  a  suspected 
prognostic  of  a  fatal  termination.— Dr.  Cabnocban,  reported  in  the  Herald,  August  23. 

I  have  continued  to  feel  the  greatest  con-  I        I  hope  he  will  get  well. 
fldence  in  his  recovery.— Da.  Buia,  August 

Si.  I 

It  was  Herbert  Spencer  who  made  the  following  definition  of 
evolution : 

Evolution  is  a  change  from  an  indeflnite,  incoherent  homogeneity  to  a  definite,  cohe- 
rmt  heterogeneity,  throngh  continuous  differentiations  and  intpgrations. 

It  was  the  mathematician  Kirkman  who  tmnslated  the  definition 
into  what  he  considered  plain  English  : 

Brointion  is  a  change  from  a  nohowish,  unt  ilkaboutablc,  all-alikcncss,  to  a  somehow- 
iah,  and  in-general  talkabontable  not-at  allalikencss,  by  continuous  somethingelseifica- 
tiont  and  sUdctogetherations. 

In  a  recent  scientific  jomnal  I  find  this  sentence  : 

Begoniacea;,  by  their  nnthcro-cnnnectival  fabric  indicate  a  clow  relationship  with  ano- 
naoeo-hydrocharideo-nymphfcoid  formn,  an  afTinity  conflrmc<l  by  the  i>erpentarioid  flex- 
uoeo-nodulouK  htem,  the  liriij<tendroid  stipules,  and  cistwid  and  victorioid  foliage  of  a 
certain  Begonia,  and  if  i^onsidorod  hypogjnoua,  would,  in  their  triquetrous  capsule,  alate 
seed,  apptali^m,  and  tufted  stamination,  represent  the  floral  fabric  of  Nepentheo,  itself 
of  aristolochtoid  afTinity,  while  by  its  pitchered  leave*,  directly  belonging  to  Sarraoeniaa 
and  Dionivas.— Mabsb. 

Considered  as  a  representation  of  the  actnal  language  of  life,  it 
is  a  violation  of  the  truth  of  costume  to  cram  with  technical  words 
the  conversation  of  a  technical  man.  All  men,  except  the  veriest, 
narrowest  i)edant8  in  their  craft,  avoid  the  language  of  the  shop, 
and  a  small  infusion  of  native  sense  of  propriety  prevents  the  most 
ignorant  laborer  from  obtruding  the  dialect  of  his  art  upon  those 
with  whom  he  commtmicatos  in  reference  to  matters  not  pertaining 
to  it.  Every  man  affects  to  be,  if  not  socially  above,  yet  intellect- 
ually independent  of  and  suiierior  to  his  calling,  and  if  in  this  re- 
spect his  speech  bewray  him,  it  will  be  by  words  used  in  mere 
joke,  or  by  such  pecnliaritios  of  speech,  as  without  properly  be- 


358  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

longing  to  the  exercise  of  his  profession  have  been  occasioned  by 
it. — Mabsh. 

Technical  Metaphors  and  comparisons  sliuuld  in  like 
manner  be  avoided.  Even  Camj)hell,  who  says  that  "  in 
strict  propriety  technical  words  should  not  be  considered 
as  belonging  to  the  language  because  not  in  use  or  under- 
stood by  the  generality  even  of  readers,"  uses  the  follow- 
ing figure : 

Humor,  when  we  consider  the  contrariety  of  its  eflfects,  con- 
tempt and  laughter  (which  constitute  what  in  one  woixl  is  termed 
derision),  to  that  sympathy  and  love  often  produced  by  the  i^athetic, 
may  in  respect  of  these,  be  aptly  eomijared  to  a  concave  miiTor, 
when  the  object  is  placed  beyond  the  focus  ;  in  which  case  it  ap- 
pears by  reflection  both  diminished  and  inverted,  circxmistances 
which  happily  adumbrate  the  contemptible  and  the  ridiculous. 
-(i.58.) 

Many  words  once  purely  technical  have  entered  into 
common  use,  and  may  now  be  employed  with  freedom. 
Just  w^here  to  draw  the  line  it  is  not  always  easy  to  tell ; 
but  where  there  is  doubt  as  to  whether  a  word  will  be 
understood,  it  is  a  safe  rule  to  employ  some  other,  or  even 
a  circumlocution. 

Addison  objected  [Spectator,  No.  297)  that  Milton's  cornice,  cul 
minate,  equator,  and  zenith  were  too  techuical  for  ordinary  appre- 
hension. — HaiiL. 

William  Taylor,  easting  ridicule  ou  a  book  in  the  Montlily  Re- 
view (1798),  introduces  the  following  words  as  unintelligible  bar- 
barisms : 

"  Were  we  endeavoring  to  characterize  this  work  in  the  dialect  peculiar  to  Professor 
Kant,  we  should  observe  that  its  inteivtive  like  its  extensive  magnitude  is  small ;  as  a  de- 
tached disquisition  or  as  a  contribution  to  the  theory  of  taste  it  is  alike  unimjwrtant ;  its 
subjective  is  as  slight  as  its  otfjective  worth.  Of  the  author  we  cannot  but  suspect  that  his 
empirical  acquaintance  with  words  of  taste  is  not  coniprehonsive ;  his  receptivity  for 
asthetic  gratification  not  delicate  ;  his  tranncendtntal  detluction  of  the  categories  of  crit- 
icism neither  dixcrelive  nor  exhaustive  ;  and  that  the  phenomena  of  beauty,  with  respect 
to  him,  rank  among  the  HOMm««a.— Hall, 


Chap.  XIX]  NEW  WORDS.  359 

New  words^  as  representing  new  ideas,  are  also  intro- 
duced by  intercourse  with  other  nations,  especially  by 
commerce.  Most  of  the  names  upon  a  grocer's  catalogue 
have  accompanied  from  other  nations  the  importation  of 
the  articles  they  represent. 

2.  Musters  of  style  may  coin  such  words  as  in  their 
judgment  seems  necessary  or  desirable. 

De  Quincey  makes  it  a  test  of  an  author's  power  how 
many  new  words,  phrases,  idioms,  significations,  he  is 
enabled  to  engraft  upon  his  native  tongue.  But  with  this 
the  beginner  has  nothing  to  do.  Even  long  experience 
and  unquestioned  recognition  leave  it  still  a  perilous  task 
to  propose  a  new  word. 

No  author  ever  shackled  himself  by  more  absurd  restrictions, 
not  even  the  lipogrammatists,  or  those  who  built  altars  and  hatched 
eggs  in  verse,  than  Mr.  Fox,  when  he  resolved  to  use  no  other 
words  in  his  History  than  were  to  be  found  in  Dry  den. — Southey. 

I  conceive  that  words  are  like  money,  not  thp  worse  for  being 
common,  but  that  it  is  the  stamp  of  custom  alone  that  gives  them 
circulation  or  value.  I  am  fastidious  in  this  respect,  and  would 
almost  as  soon  coin  tlie  currency  of  the  realm  as  counterfeit  the 
king's  English.  I  never  invented  or  gave  a  new  and  unauthorized 
meaning  to  any  word  but  one  single  one— the  term  impersonaly  ap- 
plied to  feelings  ;  and  that  was  in  an  abstruse  metaphysical  dis- 
cussion, to  express  a  very  difficult  distinction. — Hazltfi. 

We  must  not  be  too  frequent  with  the  mint,  every  day  coining, 
nor  fetch  words  from  the  extreme  and  utmost  ages.  Words  bor- 
rowed of  antiquity  do  lend  a  kind  of  majesty  to  style,  and  are  not 
without  their  delight  sometimes.  For  they  have  the  authority  of 
years,  and  out  of  their  intermission  do  win  to  themselves  a  kind  of 
grace-like  newness.  But  the  eldest  of  the  present^  and  newest  of 
the  past  language  is  best—BsM  Jonsom. 

It  i«  •  doabtfol  •«pwrlm«Ml  with  any  nma  to  add  a  word  to  hii  nativ*  tonipM.  The 
OTMtkm  of  *  word  b  •  grnit  HMiinpUon  over  hnouui  thought.  It  U  •  oballong*  to  a  na- 
tlonni  mind.  It  vcmj  bo  an  amiult  on  a  natioo'«  prejudloea.  It  majr  be  radated  by  the 
whole  Monnimm  of  a  Bation'a  hiatoiy.    It  may  bo  ejootod  by  the  teoe  of  a  natk«*s 


360 


PURITY. 


[Part  IV. 


whims.  The  chanoM  are  m  a  thoaeand  to  one  acraitut  its  suooeM.  Such  a  word  may 
have  every  ncholarly  quality  in  its  favor,  and  yet  it  may  die  of  sheer  neglect  It  dies 
withoat  BO  mnoh  as  a  bnrial.  The  nation  often  does  not  reeint  it,  doeii  not  arfniu  nbout  it, 
but  «imply  says,  "  We  do  not  want  it."  Cicero  had  no  superior  as  an  authority  in  itoman 
literature,  yet  he  failed  more  frequently  than  he  succeeded  in  bin  attempts  to  impruve 
the  vernacular  of  his  countrymen.  The  same  is  tma  of  Milton  and  of  Ooleridge,  both  of 
whom  wore  studenu  of  the  forces  of  language,  masters  of  racy  English,  and  ezpurimenters 
in  the  creation  of  novel  words.— Phbij>8. 

CoLUUDOB,  in  his  woric  '*  On  Ohnrdi  and  State,**  makes  use  of  the  following  extra- 
ordinary words  :  //^/tvencfoe,  extroUiC4^  retroiUvt,  and  productivity.  Bentley  unes  : 
CommentMout,  alient^  ntogoce^  and  exeribs.  But  no  other  writers  adopted  these  words ; 
a  dear  proof  that  they  ware  not  wanted. 

Charles  Lamb  used  in  his  writings  several  words  which  have  not  succeeded  in  main- 
taining a  place  in  the  language.  Among  them  may  be  named  agnUe,  burgeon,  and  arride. 
.  .  .  In  the  writings  of  the  late  N.  P.  Willis  we  meet  with  such  terms  as  the 
following:  An  wUeh^xtbte  nature,  totdeauxiteUif^  plumptitude,  pocketually  speaking, 
bettoetnity^  and  go-enoayneu  !  In  the  same  gentleman's  writings  we  occasionally  come 
■CRMB  mudi  elegant  forms  of  expression  as  whipping  creation^  /logging  Europe,  a  heap  of 
c^nions,  tamatitm  quick,  etc.  These  and  all  such  must  be  looked  upon  as  abortions  or 
deformities  of  our  language;  and  no  Engiish  writer  who  has  any  respect  for  his  own 
reputation  should  ever  think  of  countenancing,  far  lees  of  adopting,  such  monstrosities.— 
Obabam.  • 

It  is  not  easy  for  me  to  write  without  a  strong  sense  of  loathing  the  uame  of  this  acrid 
fantast  and  idoiizer  of  brute  force— at  best  a  bad  copy  of  all  that  is  most  objectionable  in 
Hobbes.  The  word  intemattotutl,  introduced  by  the  immortal  Bentham,  and  Mr.  Car- 
lyle^s  gigmanily — to  coin  which,  by  the  way,  it  was  necessary  to  invent  facts — are  signifi- 
cantly characteristic  of  the  utilitarian  philanthropist  and  of  the  f  utilitarian  misanthropist, 
respectively.— Haix. 

In  The  Doctor  Southey  gives  himself  free  scope,  as  a  verbarian,  much  after  the  way 
of  Rabelais,  Thomas  Nash,  Taylor  the  water-poet,  or  Feltham.  These  are  a  few  of  his 
ventures  there : 

herbarism. 

hippogony. 

heplarchy. 

hnmorology. 

iatrachy. 

idolify. 

insomnolence. 

kittenship. 

magnisonant. 

minify. 

mottocrat. 

nepotions, 

obituarist. 

omni  erudite. 

omnisigniflcance. 

oxmanphip. 

parenthesize. 

paulopostfnturatively. 

pentametrize. 

person  ificator. 

philofclist. 

philotheist. 


agathokakological. 
alamodality. 
anywhereness. 
bibliogony. 
cacoderoonize. 
caliomisticate. 
circumam  bagious. 
cornification. 
crab-grade  (v.  n.) 
crazyologist. 
critickin. 

dendrantheopolc^y. 
disrecommendation. 
domesticize. 
errabund. 
etcaeterarist. 
evefywherenesa. 
facsimilcBhip. 
felisophy. 
ferrivorous. 
gelastics. 
gignitive. 
heartsbead. 

But  even  in  the  pages  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  he  allowed  himself  such  terms,  some 
of  them  very  good  ones,  as  [here  n  list  of  sixty-six  words  is  given,  including  anthropha- 


quasically. 

quintelement 

quizzify. 

quotationipotent. 

resemblant. 

semiramize. 

showee. 

shillishallier. 

stelliscript. 

stockinger. 

theologo-jurist. 

threno(iial. 

triniestral. 

typarchical. 

nglyogi-aphize, 

unepofy. 

unipsefy. 

unparallellable. 

unprosperity. 

iitopianizer. 

whiskerandoed. 

zoophilist. 


Ohap.  XIX.  1  NEW  WORDS.  861 

gistio,  batncepbagotu,  flocclnaudpUlflcation,  etc.]  .  .  .  And  jet  Southcy  wrote  to 
WilllAin  T»ylor  in  1874,  "  Do  ■ometimes  ask  yourself  the  question  whether  the  word  you 
•re  about  to  um  be  in  the  dictionary  or  not."— Robbirds'  "  Memoir  of  William  Taylor," 
L  4M.-HAIX. 

Coleridge  says : 

Unusual  and  new-coined  words  are  doubtless  an  evil,  but  vague- 
ness, confusion,  and  imperfect  conveyance  of  our  thoughts  are  a 
far  greater. 

And  again : 

To  convey  his  meaning  precisely  is  a  debt  which  an  author  owes 
to  his  readers.  He  therefore  who,  to  escape  the  charge  of  pedan- 
try, will  rather  be  misunderstood  than  startle  a  fa.stidious  critic 
with  an  unusual  term,  may  be  comimred  to  the  man  who  should 
pay  his  creditor  in  base  or  counterfeit  coin,  when  he  had  gold  or 
silver  ingots  in  his  possession  to  the  precise  amount  of  the  debt ; 
and  this,  under  the  pretence  of  their  unshai)eliness  and  want  of 
the  mint-impression. 

Tlie  following  quotation  illustrates  his  meaning: 

This  catholic  spirit  was  opi)osed  to  the  gnostic  or  peculiar 
spirit — the  humor  of  fantastical  iuterjiretation  of  the  old  Scrip- 
ture, into  Christian  meanings.  It  is  this  gnosis,  or  knowingness, 
which  the  apostle  says  pu£feth  up — not  knoxcledge  as  we  translate  it 

3.  Temporary  Coina/je  of  a  word  for  a  peculiar  effect, 
especially  a  humorous  effect,  is  occasionally  permissible. 

Professor  James  Russell  Lowell,  for  example,  is  one  of  the  most 
scholarly  critics  and  authors  in  our  language.  A  word  coined  by 
him  would  cany  all  the  authority  which  any  one  man's  name  can 
give  io  a  word.  But  when  ho  coins,  as  ho  dt>es,  such  words  as 
*•  cloudbergs,"  and  "  othorworldliness,"  and  "Dr.  Wattsiness," 
he  descends  from  stylo  to  slang.  He  does  not  exixjct  to  8t>c  them 
in  the  next  edition  of  Worcester's  Dictionary.  He  would  bo 
ushiiiiu'd  to  8<»e  them  there  with  his  name  as  their  authority. 
He  knows,  and  the  world  of  scholars  knows,  that  his  own 
.•x^iiuluily  reputation  will  bear  such  oocaaioual  departures  from 


362  PURITY.  [Pabt  IV. 

good  English,  somewhat  as  a  very  saintly  man  can  bear  to  be  seen 
carrying  a  flask  of  brandy  in  the  street.  That  which  is  a  literary 
peccadillo  from  Professor  Lowell's  pen  may  be  unscholarly  sloven- 
liness from  one  unknown  to  fame. — Phelps. 

Coleridge !  I  devoutly  wish  that  Fortune,  who  has  made  sport 
with  you  so  long,  may  play  one  fresh  move,  throw  you  into  Lon- 
don or  some  place  near  it,  and  there  tnugify  you  for  life. — C.  Lamb. 

The  roads  are  not  paoiaMc, 

Not  eren  jacka— bla; 

And  all  who  woold  travel  *em 

M oit  torn  oot  and  gravel  "vuk.—liaauoUU  AmairUxtn, 

4.  Fdct'Uiovs  Notoriety  given  to  a  new  word  sometimes 
becomes  converted  into  popularity. 

The  manager  of  a  theatre  in  Dublin  once  passed  an  evening  with 
certain  amateurs  in  literature  ;  and  he  staked  a  sum  of  money  on 
the  proposal  that  he  would  create  a  word  which  should  belong  to 
no  language  on  the  globe,  and  should  be  absolutely  void  of  sense, 
yet  it  should  become  the  subject  of  the  common  talk  of  the  town 
in  twenty-four  hours.  The  wager  was  accepted.  He  then  sent  his 
sen^ants  through  the  most  densely  j^eoiiled  streets  of  the  city,  with 
directions  to  chalk  in  large  capitals  the  letters  QUIZ  on  each  alter- 
nate door  and  shop-window.  The  next  day  was  Sunday.  Stores  were 
closed,  and  the  throng  in  the  streets  had  leisure  to  read  the  enig- 
matical letters.  Every  one  who  saw  it  repeated  it  to  his  neighbor ; 
and  his  neighbor  responded,  "What  does  'quiz'  mean?"  It  had 
no  meaning.  No  language  o\sTied  it.  Scholarly  tast€  scouted  it. 
Yet  everybody  laughed  at  it,  and  that  gave  it  a  meaning.  From 
that  day  to  this,  scholarship  has  been  compelled  to  recognize  the 
word,  and  to  use  it  as  good,  sound  English. — Phelps. 

An  incident  which  excites  the  surprise  or  appeals  to  the  sympathies  of  a  whole  people 
will  often  give  a  very  general  and  permanent  cnrrency  to  a  new  word,  or  an  expression 
not  before  in  familiar  use.  Take  for  example  the  word  coincidence.  The  verb  coincide 
and  it^  derivative  noun  are  of  rather  recent  introduction  into  our  language.  They  are 
not  found  in  Minishen,  and  they  occur  neither  in  Shakspere  nor  in  Milton,  though  they 
may  perhaps  have  been  employe*!  by  scientific  writers  at  a^  early  a  date.  They  lielong  to 
the  langnage  of  mathematics,  and  were  originally  applied  to  points  and  lines.  Thus,  if 
one  mathcma'ical  point  be  su|>erimix>sod  ujum  another,  or  one  straight  line  be  superim- 
posed upon  Hiiotlier  straight  line  between  the  same  two  jxiints  ;  or  if  two  lines  follow  the 
same  course,  whatever  be  its  curve,  between  two  points,  then  in  the  first  case  the  two 


Cha?.  XIX]  NEW  WORDS.  363 

pointH,  in  the  latter  two  the  two  Unes,  are  anid  to  coincide,  and  their  conformity  of  po»i- 
tion  i»  called  coincidence.  In  like  manner,  any  two  events  hapi>euing  at  the  same  i>erio(l, 
or  any  two  acta  or  states  beginning  at  the  Hanic  nioisent,  are  said  to  cuincide  in  time,  and 
the  conjugate  noon,  coincidence,  is  employed  to  express  the  fact  that  they  are  so  oonteni- 
puraneoaa  TboMe  «ord«  soon  paned  into  common  uhu,  in  the  same  sense,  uud  were  ai>- 
pliid  alao  figuratively  to  identity  of  opinion  or  character  in  different  individuulH,  us  will 
an  to  many  other  coaett  of  close  similarity  or  resemblance ;  but  they  still  belonged  rather  to 
the  language  of  rules  and  of  science  than  to  the  daily  speech  of  common  life.  On  thu 
Fourth  of  July,  18SG,  the  semi-centennial  jubilee  of  the  declaratiun  uf  American  inde- 
pendence, Thomas  Jeftersoo,  the  author,  and  John  Adams,  one  of  the  signers  of  that  re- 
markable manifesto,  both  also  ex-Presidcnts.  died,  and  this  concurrence  in  the  decease  of 
distingiiiHhed  men  on  the  anniversary  of  so  critical  a  |K>int  in  their  lives  and  the  history 
of  their  country,  was  noticed  all  over  the  world,  but  more  especially  in  the  United  Statex. 
as  an  extraordinary  coincidence.  The  death  of  Mr.  Monroe,  also  an  ex- President,  on  the 
Fourth  of  July,  A  year  or  two  after,  gave  a  new  impulse  to  the  circulation  of  the  wonl  co- 
incidence, and  in  this  country  at  least  it  at  once  acquired  and  still  retains  a  far  more 
currency  than  it  had  ever  possessed  before.— Mabsr. 


5.  Pojnilar  Need  of  a  new  word  becomes  recognized, 
now  and  tlien,  and  the  word  takes  its  place  not  througli 
scholars  but  in  spite  of  them. 

In  this  introduction  of  new  words,  moreover,  the  incorrect  ex- 
pression really  has  the  better  chance  of  acceptance,  and  for  two 
reasons — firstly,  the  odds  are  vastly  in  favor  of  its  being  wanted, 
and  consequently  made  by  an  unscientific  person  rather  than  by  a 
philologist ;  and  secondly,  it  has  not  only  a  start,  but  a  very  long 
start,  of  the  more  accurate  term.  It  almost  invariably  becomes 
general  in  conversational  use  before  it  ax)|)ears  in  literature;  it 
regularly  germinates,  buds,  blooms  in  conversation ;  and  it  is 
mostly  in  the  form  of  a  fixed  result,  as  a  sort  of  gathered  print, 
tliat  it  takes  it«  place  in  written  speech ;  while  the  better  word 
which  might  supplant  it  must,  to  change  my  metaphor,  raise  but 
a  baby  hand,  and  utter  a  trembling  cry  against  the  strength  of 
maturity  and  the  shout  of  a  man. — BLACKiiEY. 

Th^  Newetpwpers  are  not,  liowever,  to  be  regarded  as 
exponents  of  the  popular  need,  nor  are  words  to  be  ac- 
cepted because  employed  by  the  moniing  journals. 

Netpgpaper  Engliith.—**Ti\e  tramp  Roderick,  who  burgled  the 
two  houses  on  West  Hill  last  week  and  was  jailed  Sunday  night, 
broke  out  last  evening,  but  was  policetl  clear  to  the  river,  where, 
finding  eeoape  impossible,  he  wharf e<1  ])ii))>^«>if  <>i<'l  <-Miioided.    The 


304  PtmiTY.  (Part  IV. 

body  piled  itsolf  at  the  bridge  and  will  be  coronered  in  the  morn- 
ing.    Tnily,  in  the  midst  of  life,  we  aie  deathed." 

Mr.  Geo.  H.  McChesney,  the  extensive  lumber  dealer,  of  Syra- 
cnse,  who  8Ui)i)lies  most  of  the  Anbum  trade,  and  Cliarles  F.  Sanle, 
a  retired  banker  of  the  saline  city,  with  their  wives,  Sundied  in 
Auburn. — Auburn  Advertiser, 

Gekeral  View. — Of  new  words  we  may  enumerate  at  least  five 
distinct  sources :  (1)  Those  which  may  be  called  inspired  are  due, 
almost  wholly,  to  the  common  people ;  (2)  others  are  elaborated 
by  the  learned ;  (3)  others  are  imposeil  by  conquest,  as  the  Norman 
element  of  the  English,  and  the  Semitic  element  of  the  Indian 
vernaculars ;  (4)  otliers,  all  the  world  over,  are  imported  by  com- 
merce ;  (5)  and  others  still  are  introduced  from  abroad  by  fashion, 
or  borrowed  thence  for  their  usefulness.  It  is  with  the  two  fii*st 
classes  and  the  last  that  we  are  concerned  practically.  Inspired 
neoterisms,  as  springing  from  the  needs  of  the  illiterate,  often 
respond  to  a  general  need,  and  are  easily  enfi*anchised.  Besides, 
being  mostly  monosyllables,  they  are  easy  of  remembrance,  and, 
when  not  abbreviations,  being  found  in  the  most  obvious  analogies, 
they  are  rarely  exceptionable  as  illegitimate  formations.  How- 
ever less  immediately  valuable  for  popular  use,  the  coinages  of 
scholars,  in  proportion  as  they  supply  recognized  wants,  likewise 
make  good  their  value  eventually  by  obtaining  the  rights  of  citi- 
zenship. Intercourse  with  foreign  countries  and  their  inhabitants 
contributes  further  to  augment  our  lingual  wealth.  And  thus  our 
exchequer  is  constantly  increasing ;  and,  at  the  s-ame  time,  its  con- 
tents are  constantly  liable  to  mutation.  Once  it  was  not  so,  but 
nowatlays  we  may  accept  as  an  indubitable  argument  of  a  nation's 
healthy  acti\'ity,  both  intellectual  and  material,  the  fact  of  the  ex- 
pansiveness  and  mobility  of  its  language.— HAiiL. 

(/S)  Expansion  and  Contraction  of  old  words  is 
continually  attempted.  The  former  is  usually  the  result 
of  ambitious  groping  for  impressiveness,  like  "  preventa- 
tive "  for  "  preventive."  The  latter  comes  from  tlie  ten- 
dency in  speech,  as  in  other  exertion,  to  escape  all  avoid- 
able effort. 


CHAP.  XIX. ]       EXPANSION  AND  CONTRACTION.  365 

The  most  common  contractions  are  of  the  verb  with  the  adverb 
twty  like  "isn't,"  "won't"  (see  page  2C2).  In  colloquial  speech 
and  in  familiar  lettera  these  may  be  indulged  ;  but  nowhere  should 
"  ain't"  be  employed  for  any  purpose,  nor  should  "  don't"  be  used 
instead  of  "doesn't"  in  the  third  person  singular. 

(7)  Combinations  of  old  words  are  most  common  in 
the  double  epithets  affected  by  inferior  writers. 

Very  few  of  these  long-winded,  long-waisted,  long-tongued, 
long-tailed,  and  \ong-enred  compounds  are  authorized  English. 
The  taste  for  them  destroys  the  taste  for  monosyllabic  words,  on 
which  the  force  of  a  spoken  style  so  much  dei)ends.  A  subtle 
symimthy  exists  between  these  compounds  and  long,  involuted 
sentences.  Be  not  deceived,  if  occasionally  they  seem  to  strengthen 
style.  In  the  genei-al  effect  they  dilute  and  flatten  it ;  they  invite 
a  drawl  in  deliveiy ;  they  are  a  drawl  in  expression.  Few  forms 
of  mannerism  run  to  such  extremes  as  this,  when  once  the  scruples 
of  good  taste  are  broken  down.  Mrs.  Henry  Wood,  in  "Roland 
Yorke,"  speaks  of  the  "not-attempted-to-be-concealed  care."  An- 
other female  author  remarks  uix)n  "  the-sudden-at-the-moment- 
though-from-lingering-illness-often-previously-exi)ected  death  "  of 
one  of  her  heroines.  It  does  not  require  scholarly  erudition  to 
decide  that  such  a  tape-worm  as  this  has  no  proper  place  above 
ground.  The  tast^  wliich  could  tolerate  it  is  hojjeless  barbarism. 
The  next  phase  of  such  culture  is  cannibalism. — Phelps. 

The  oombining  or  comiwamiitif?  power  in  of  ilifferent  tleK'reea  in  different  langaagM, 
bat  in  the  Mexican  langnage  it  \n  rarrietl  to  nn  inrrediblc  extent.  Here  combinatioiu 
•re  MlmiU«l  eoeiMily  thU  the  simplest  ideas  arc  buried  under  a  load  of  aooeMoriea. 
For  example,  the  word  for  a  pricat  coadsts  of  eleven  syliablea,  and  is  there  called  Hotku»- 
makti1alettpt3Katal9lH,  which  mi*ana  literally,  venerabU  tninUter  of  Ood,  tchom  I  lott  <ta 
a  fmtker.  A  i0Ui  msn  oomiiralMiudre  word  is  amathKntOoHUptttcaUaacM^fmu^  which 
meuia  tk«  reward  giMn  a  mtmtngtr  who  bring*  a  kierogtutUcat  map  convtying  tnum- 
0tmet.—Bl.kOnjn. 

ArlMoptaaiMa  haa  a  word  of  fourteen  syliablea  tton  aiz  nulioale,  signifying  meanly- 
early  •  ridng-  and  -  hnnrylng.to-the  tribunal-to-denounce-anothcr-fur  an  infraction-of-the- 
law-oonoeming  th»^portatioii-of.flca.  In  another  caae  the  tame  dramatii*  ooint  a  wofd 
of  mrenty  two  syUabiw,  aa  the  name  of  a  dish  compoeeil  of  a  grw^  number  of  ingv*. 
diMita,  and  Biohtor  qnotaa  Fonrter  aa  anthorUy  for  a  Saoacrit  compound  of  cme  hnndrwi 
and  ftftytwo  syliablea.— Maasa. 

The  first  English  poot  who  gave  prominence  to  this  power  of 
combination  was  Chapman,  who  applied  it  with  wonderfully  happy 


366  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

effect  in  his  Homer's  "  Iliad,"  in  translating  the  compound  Greek 
epithets  which  so  frequently  occur  in  that  poem,  such  as  siri/t- 
footed,  vnty'Ufri^dy  ^rhite-annedy  many-headed,  rosy-fiiujeredy  etc. 
Most  of  these  were  afterward  adopted  by  Pope.  There  is  a  ten- 
dency in  some  modem  English  writers  to  cany  this  compounding 
power  to  an  unwarrantable  extent,  a  practice  which  should  cer- 
tainly be  resisted,  as  being  opposed  to  the  genius  of  our  language, 
and  also  gi>'ing  evidence  of  aping  after  Germanic  forms,  and  thus 
transgressing  the  proper  limits  of  the  language.  The  late  Madame 
D'Arblay,  in  her  "Memoirs  of  Dr.  Bumey,"  speaks  of  the  "  very- 
handsome,  -  though  -  no  -  longer  -  in  -  her  -  bloom  "  Mrs.  Stevens. — 
Blaokley. 

The  authority  of  Milton  and  Shakspere  may  be  oaefally  pointed  ont  to  yoong  anthors. 
In  the  "  Oomua"  and  other  eariy  poems  of  MilUm  there  is  a  superfluity  of  double  epi- 
thets, while  in  "The  Paradiw  Lost"  we  And  very  few,  in  ''The  Paradise  BefoUned'' 
•oaroe  any.  The  same  remark  holds  almost  equally  true  of  the  ''Love's  IjbXmt  Lost,** 
"Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "Venus  and  Adonis,"  and  "  Lucrece,"  compared  with  '' I-iear,** 
"  Macbeth,'^  "  Othello,"  and  "  Hamlet"  of  our  great  dramatist.  The  rule  for  the  admis- 
sion of  double  epithets  seems  to  be  this:  either  that  they  should  be  already  denizens  of 
our  language,  such  as  blood-ttained,  terror-»trick€ti,  te'f-applaudtng ;  or  when  a  new 
epithet,  or  one  found  in  books  only,  is  hazarded,  that  it  at  least  be  one  word,  not  two 
words  made  one  by  mere  virtue  of  the  printer's  hyphen.  A  language  Which,  like  the 
English,  is  almost  without  cases,  is  indeed  in  its  very  genius  unfitted  for  oompoiinds.  If 
a  writer  every  time  a  compounded  word  suggests  itself  would  seek  for  some  other  way 
of  expressing  himself,  the  chances  are  always  greatly  in  favor  of  his  finding  a  better 

word.— COLBRIDOK. 

Yet  Charles  Lamb  writes  to  this  very  Coleridge  : 

There  is  a  capital  line  in  your  sixth  number : 

This  dark,  frieze-coated,  teeth-chattering  month. 

They  are  exactly  such  epithets  as  Bums  would  have  stumbled  on,  whose  poem  on 
*'  The  Ploughed-up  Daisy  "  you  seem  to  have  had  in  mind. 

(b)  National  usage  excludes  the  use  of  words  and 
constructions  that  are  (1)  Foreign,  or  (2)  Provincial. 

(I)  Foreign  usage  may  consist  in  (a)  interpolation 
into  Englisli  construction,  as  "  She  looked  tri-ste,  poor 
thing ; "  or  (jS)  adoption  of  foreign  construction,  with 
either  foreign  or  Englisli  words. 

{a)  Interpolations  of  foreign  words  are  advertise- 
ments of  the  writer's  limited  vocabulary.     The  late  poet 


Chap.  XIX.]  FOREIGN  WORDS.  367 

and  journalist  Bryant  nsed  to  say  that  he  never  felt  the 
temptation  to  use  a  foreign  word  without  being  able  to 
find  in  English  a  word  that  expressed  his  meaning  w^itli 
more  exactness  and  felicity. 

We  n«o«l  only  glance  into  one  of  the  periodical  representatives  of  fa8hional>Ic  litera- 
tnrt?.  or  Into  a  novel  of  the  day,  to  sec  how  serious  this  assault  upon  the  purity  of  the 
EnicliHh  language  has  become.  The  chances  are  more  than  equal  that  we  Khali  fall  in 
with  a  writer  who  considers  it  a  point  of  honor  to  choose  all  his  moKt  emphatic  words 
from  a  French  vocabulary,  and  who  would  think  it  a  lamentable  falling  off  in  his  style,  did 
he  write  half  a  dozen  sentemx-s  without  employing  at  least  half  that  number  of  foreign 
wonls.  His  heroes  are  always  marked  by  an  air  distingue  ;  his  vile  men  are  hure  to  Ik; 
bUufa :  his  lady  friends  never  merely  dance  or  drera  well,  they  dance  or  drewt  d  mtf- 
veiUe :  and  he  himself,  when  lolling  on  the  sofa  under  the  spirit  of  laziness,  does  not 
simply  enjoy  his  rest,  he  luxuriates  in  the  dotce  far  nieiUe,  and  wonders  when  he  will 
manage  to  begin  his  magnum  opwt.  And  so  he  carries  us  through  his  story,  mnning  off 
into  hHckocycd  French,  Italian,  or  Latin  expressions,  whenever  he  has  anything  to  say 
which  he  thinks  should  be  graphically  or  emphatically  said.  It  really  s<'enis  as  if  he 
thought  the  English  language  too  meagre  or  too  commonplace  a  dress  in  which  to  clothe 
his  thoughts.  ■  The  tongne  which  gave  a  noble  utterance  to  the  thoughts  of  .ShakBi)ere 
and  Milton  is  altogether  insufficient  to  express  the  more  cosmopolitan  ideas  of  Smith,  ■  r 
Tomkins,  or  Jenkins  t     .     .    . 

We  have  before  us  an  ariicio  from  the  pen  of  a  very  clever  writer,  and,  as  it  appears 
in  a  magasine  which  specially  professes  to  represent  the  "  bent  society.'"  it  m:>y  be  taken 
u  a  good  specimen  of  the  style.  It  describes  a  dancing  party,  and  we  difcover  for  the 
first  time  how  much  leitniing  i^  necessary  to  describe  a  "hop  "  properly.  The  reader  is 
infonnctl  that  all  the  jieople  at  the  dance  belong  to  the  beau  moude,  as  may  l>e  seen  at  a 
coup  fTtt^il :  tho  demi-monde  is  scrupulously  exclude«l,  and  in  fact  everj'ihing  nbt.ut  it 
bespeaks  tho  /taut  ton  of  the  whole  affair.  A  lady  who  has  been  happy  in  her  hair- 
dresser fs  raid  to  be  coffee  A  ravir.  Th<  n  there  is  the  l)old  man  to  dcscril>e.  Having 
acquired  the  mtoif  fmre,  he  is  never  afraid  of  making  a  faux  ptm.  but  no  matter  what 
kind  of  conversation  Is  staniHl  plnnpes  at  once  in  metUai*  ren.  Following  him  is  the  fair 
d^bulnnte,  who  is  already  on  the  look'out  for  un  bon  parti,  but  whow  net  retrouaitf  is  a 
decidetl  olMtacle  to  her  suc»  e*s.  She  Is  of  course  acoompanie«l  by  mamma  en  granOe 
toilette^  who,  entre  noua,  looks  rather  ridfe  even  in  the  gaslipht.  Then,  text  the  writ,  r 
should  seem  frivolous,  he  suddenly  abandons  the  description  of  the  «lanc«'s.  r**-)  r«i  nnd 
dtm  fi-iton,  to  tell  us  that  Homer  bcH>omc«  tiresomo  when  he  sings  of  Bomyk  ■wArvta  'Hpij 
twice  in  a  iwge.  The  mip|)cr  calls  forth  a  corresponding  anionnt  of  leaitting,  and  the 
writer  concludes  his  article  after  having  aired  his  Orock,  his  Latin,  his  French,  nnd,  in  a 
suliordinate  way.  his  Rnglish. 

Of  course  thi«  styin  has  admirers  and  imitators.  It  Is  showy  and  pret'  ntions,  and 
everything  that  Is  abowy  and  pretentioas  has  admirers.  Tho  admixture  of  foreign 
phrnsM  with  our  plain  Kngttsh  pmdnosR  a  kind  of  Rnimmagetn  s|>arklo  which  ptniple 
whoaa  appreelatioB  Is  limited  to  the  niperflcial  imsirine  to  be  brilliancy.  Tho^  who  are 
deficient  In  tastr  and  srt  edncatSon  not  unfreqnently  prefer  a  dashing  picture  by  young 
Danb  to  a  glorious  cartoon  by  Raphael.  The  bright  coloring  of  the  one  far  more  than 
ooontMrbalanoss  the  lovely  but  unot>tnisive  grace  of  the  oth(>r.  In  a  similar  way,  young 
itadcnta  •(•  attraotrd  by  the  tn\m  glitter  of  the  Fren<-h-t>aste  school  of  composition,  and 
ln<Mrt  of  formiafr  thoir  aenienoos  n|ion  tho  boautifnl  modals  ol  Um  great  Bnglish  vaa»- 


868  PURITY.  [Pabt  IV. 

ten,  th«f  twist  them  into  all  Mirts  of  amiatand  shapet  for  no  other  end  than  they  may 
introdaoe  a  few  inappropriate  French  or  Latin  words,  the  n«e  of  which  they  have  learned 
to  think  looks  smart.  —Lttda  Mtrcmry, 

(fi)  Adoption  of  a  foreign  construction  may  be  (1) 
simply  the  attempt  to  express  one's  self  in  that  language 
instead  of  one's  own,  or  (2)  the  conscious  or  unconscious 
use  of  English  words  in  a  foreign  idiom. 

(1)  To  speak  another  language  when  unnecessary  is 
an  affectation,  and  like  all  affectation  a  fit  subject  of  ridi- 
cule. 

Dr.  Johnson  sneeringly  observed  to  Macklin,  the  dramatist, 
tliat  Uterary  men  should  converse  in  the  learned  languages,  and 
immediately  addressed  him  in  Latin.  Macklin  knew  nothing  of 
Latin,  but  retcirted  by  uttering  a  long  sentence  in  Lish,  where- 
upon the  doctor  returned  to  Enghsh,  saying  deferentially,  **You 
may  sj^eak  very  good  Greek,  but  I  am  not  sufficiently  versed  in 
that  dialect  to  converse  with  you  fluently." 

Kean,  though  not  classically  educated,  was  always  anxious  to 
create  an  impression  to  that  eflfect,  and  therefore  interlarded  his 
conversation  liberally  with  Latin,  which  was  usually  pretty  bad. 
Once  when  Phillii)s,  his  secretary,  was  waiting  for  him  at  one  of 
his  noctuinal  orgies,  the  following  conversation  occurred : 

2  A.U.— Phillips.  Waiter,  what  was  Mr.  Kean  doing  when  you  left  the  room  ? 

Waiter.  Playing  the  piano,  sir,  and  singing. 

Phillips.  Oh,  then  he's  all  right  yet. 

2.15.— Phillips.  What  is  Mr.  Kean  doing  now? 

Waiter.  Making  a  speech,  sir,  about  Shakspere. 

Phillips.  He's  getting  drunk ;  you'd  better  order  the  carriage. 

2.00.— Phillips.  What's  he  at  now  ? 

Waiter.  He's  talking  Latin,  sir. 

PhUlips.  Then  he  is  drunk.     We  mnst  get  him  away  at  once. 

Lord  Belgrave  having  clinched  a  speech  in  the  House  with  a  long  Greek  quotation, 
Sheridan  in  reply  admitted  the  force  of  the  quotation  so  far  as  it  went,  "  but,"  said  he, 
"had  the  noble  lord  proceeded  a  little  further  and  completed  the  passage  he  would  have 
seen  that  it  applied  the  other  way.  Sheridan  then  spouted  something,  ore  rotu?ido, 
which  haul  all  the  a{s,  ois.  ous,  kon,  and  kon,  that  give  the  wonted  assurance  of  a  Greek 
quotation ;  upon  which  Lord  Belprrave  very  promptly  and  handsomely  complimented  the 
honorable  member  on  his  readiness  of  recollection,  and  frankly  admitted  that  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  passage  had  the  tendency  ascribed  to  it  by  Mr.  Sheridan,  and  that  he 
had  overlooked  it  when  he  gave  the  quotation.  On  the  breaking  up  of  the  House  Fox, 
who  piqued  himself  on  having  some  Greek,  went  up  to  Sheridan  and  asked  him,  "  Sheri- 


Chap.  xnC]  FOREIGN  IDIOMS.  369 

dan,  bow  came  yoa  no  nmij  with  that  paaMge  r  It  in  oertainly  as  yon  say,  bat  I  wan  not 
aware  of  it  before  you  quoted  it."  It  is  unnecessary  to  tay  that  there  is  no  Greek  at  all 
in  8b«rldan'8  impromptu.—  HV>rir«. 

The  Ifome  Journal  telU  a  funny  Btory  about  Dickens  and  Thackeray.  Once  they 
were  in  Paris,  and  Thackeray,  on  RoinK  out,  cautioiie<l  the  servant  not  to  let  the  fire  go 
cot:  "  Oardet  le/eu.^'  Thackeray's  French  pronunciution  not  being  perfect,  the  servant 
■ndcntOOd  the  laxt  word  to  be  fuu,  instead  of  feu .  consequently  he  wan  not  to  let  the 
■MdaHBi  go  out.  When  Thackeray  got  back,  he  found  the  hot«l  in  great  excitement, 
and  Dickens,  in  a  towering  rage,  stalking  about,  while  the  landlord  declared  that  the 
on  going  oat.    The  people  in  the  hotel  had  to  unite  their  forces  to  hold 


(2)  Foreign  idioms  are  never  to  be  employed,  ex- 
cept occasionally  as  a  kind  of  suggestion,  akin  to  quota- 
tion. Hence  in  translating  from  a  foreign  tongue,  it  is 
not  sufficient  to  give  the  English  equivalent  of  the  words. 
Not  "  How  do  you  carry  yourself  ? "  but  "  How  do  you 
do?"  is  the  proper  English  rendering  of  "Comment  vous 
portez-vousT' 

Makino  IT  Easy  fob  Hm.— A  number  of  Chinese  have  been  at 
the  Grand  Hotel,  New  York.  Young  Mr.  Smith,  who  wanted  to 
have  some  fun,  said  to  one  of  them  who  was  making  a  puzzle  out 
of  the  wooden  toothpicks  on  the  counter:  **Indendee  stoppee 
herelongee?"  "Sir?"  said  the  Celestial.  "Stoppee  longee  in 
New  Yorkee?"  repeated  Mr.  Smith,  with  a  smile.  "We  shall  re- 
main in  the  city  but  a  brief  period,"  said  the  Pekin  man,  ''prior 
to  resuming  our  journey  to  Washington."  Then  he  walked  a^'ay, 
and  the  junior  propi-ietor  of  the  Grand  ascertained  that  he  had 
been  talking  to  a  Hai-vard  graduate  who  spoke  six  different  lau- 
goages  besides  Chinese. — Lauaistei'  Intelliffencer. 

Too  LiTKRAL  Tbarslation.— ''Madame,  what  \»  thereon  the  card  for  the  dinner?" 
ioqnired  the  new  boarder,  at  our  boanling-houMe,  a«  he  S4>ntc<l  himself  at  the  table. 

"Of  Um  MMip.  of  the  beef,  of  the  sheep,  of  the  calf  uud  of  the  pooltry,"^  replied  she, 
"the  which  wishsouT'* 

*'  A  piece  of  the  hen  nNUfeed.**  aaid  he,  "  and  of  the  apples  of  the  ground." 

*'  Wish  jroa  of  the  apfdee  of  the  ground  oooked  to  the  water  to  the  fumaoet'*  de- 


"  I  prefer  tham  oooked  to  the  maater  of  hotel,*"  Hid  he. 

"  We  hare  not  of  onok  Fren^**  naid  madame,  eharply,  "  when  the  to  board  is  of  each 
good  market  it  moat  that  we  sweat  Mood  and  water  to  make  oome  together  both  ends,'* 
and  madame  wiped  one  tear  fron  her  eye. 

"  Oh,  bring  me  what  yoo  have.**  said  the  new  boarder,  tendered  to  the  instant ;  "  but 
dispatch  foaneir,  m  I  wish  aooompMij  of  the  frisads  to  oeMMie  the  ftuMial  ol  •  mie- 


870  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

tf>r  of  two  houni.    Brinff  me  in,  name  tinte,  nuulame,  if  yon  pleaae,  of  the  pie  to  the  eggs, 
and  a  cup  of  coffee,  black,  for  the  dciwert.** 

East  Fbbmcu  Lekhonb.— Docs  the  handsome  C>o/i«)  miss  take  leMons  of  the  good 
music-teacher  ?  Oh,  yea,  the  handsome  miss  takes  lessons  (Itfotu)  of  the  good  mosic- 
teaoher.  The  hours  of  the  good  masic-tcachcr  are  very  short.  Are  the  bills  of  the  music- 
teacher  also  short  f  No,  the  billH  of  the  music-teacher  are  very  long.  Do  you  know  of 
other  teachers  besideH  the  teacher  of  your  sister's  friend?  Oh,  yes,  I  know  that  of  the 
fion  of  the  gardener.  What  is  the  matter  (qu'a-i-U)  with  the  modo-teaoher  f  Has  he 
shame  (at-U  hotUe)  t    No,  he  is  not  ashamed,  he  is  jealous. 

Has  the  sister  of  the  baker  Ulentf  No,  she  has  not  talent,  but  nhe  has  the  "Maid- 
en's Pniyer."  Has  the  gnn-cr's  brother  the  fine  sonata  ?  He  has  not  the  fine  sonata,  but 
he  httH  "  Tam  0'8honU'r.'*  Cjin  you  hear  the  soft  tone  of  the  great  violinist  f  No,  I  can- 
not hear  the  tone  of  the  great  violinist ;  that  is  why  I  applaud.  Has  the  lady  in  the  blue 
silk  pain  ?  No,  she  has  no  |iain,  but  she  is  singing  (eUe  ckcmU) ;  her  hearers  have  pain. 
—Mmical  Herald. 

A  Gknuins  ClBCOiaB.— 
ISAAC  WEINBERG 
Itatiker 
Hamburoh. 
Hambcbob,  Date  of  the  PostRtamp. 

LAUDABLE  EXPEDITION  I 

By  this  I  am  so  free  as  to  direct  the  humble  question  to  Yon,  if  You  accept  for  me  in 
Your  estimable  journal  advertiaement^i,  for  the  Hamburgian-town  and  Brunswigian- 
couutry  lottery  ? 

In  an  affirmative  case  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to  give  me  an  answer  on  the  following 
questions : 

1)  Ht»w  often  comes  out  Y«»ur  journal  ? 

2)  What  is  the  price  of  insertion  for  a  line,  reap,  eighth,  fourth  part,  half  and  whole 
page  of  your  journal  ? 

3)  How  broad  (narrow)  is  a  single  column  (how  many  n  go  in  it)  and  how  many  slits 
oountti  the  i>age  ? 

4)  After  what  sorte  of  writing  (Nonpareille  Petit.  Garmond)  do  You  account  for  the 
price  of  a  line  ? 

5^  What  a  rebate  do  You  consent  me?  I  join  still  to  my  last  question,  that  I  am  al- 
ready sinw  many  years  in  a  Direct  intercourse  with  more  than  500  german  newspaijcrs, 
and  that  nil  they  offered  me  at  the  same  conditions,  which  they  Krant  the  counter  of  an- 
nounces. With  these  I  discount  after  agreement  every  3  or  6  month ;  but  I  left  it 
entirely  to  Your  estimai  ion.  w  hat  concession  You  will  consent  me  in  concern  of  this,  how- 
ever I  expect  from  Your  side  favorable  conditions,  because  my  orders  being  for  the  great- 
est part,  considerable,  and  my  advertisements  of  large  extent. 

Expecting  a  defrayed  favorable  answer  I  am  with  consideration 

Isaac  Weinberg. 

(2)  Provincialisms  often  become  good  English,  but 
must  be  avoided  while  their  use  is  still  confined  to  a  lo- 
cality. 

Thus,  a  majority  of  those  that  frequent  them,  call  the  Adiron- 
dack mountains  "The  North  Woods,"   because  they  lie  to  the 


Chap.  XIX)  PROVINCIALISMS.  371 

north  of  the  people  of  Southern  and  Central  New  York,  whence 
most  of  the  visitors  come.  But  by  the  people  of  St.  Lawrence 
county  this  same  region  is  for  a  like  reason  known  as  "  The  South 
Woods."  Hence  to  use  either  term  in  literature  would  produce 
ambiguity. 

Take  another  illustration  from  the  same  region.  No  one  that 
has  travelled  there  with  guides  would  tliink  of  referring  to  the 
baggage  that  accompanies  one  in  the  trips  from  one  point  to  an- 
other except  as  "  duffle."  This  is  the  recognized  word  through- 
out that  region,  but  would  be  imintelligible  elsewhere. 

Again,  a  boy  brought  up  on  a  Vermont  farm  would  hear  the 
word  "clever"  used  only  to  indicate  good-nature.  A  clever  colt 
is  one  that  can  be  readily  handled  ;  a  clever  man  is  one  who  ac- 
cedes to  most  requests.  But  in  literature  the  word  is  the  adjec- 
tive that  corresponds  with  tact,  indicating  felicity  in  execution. 

The  question  therefore  arises.  What  is  the  standard  of  inirity  ? 
Is  it  usage  in  my  village,  or  in  Boston,  or  in  New  York,  or  in  Lon- 
don ?  Probably  Mr.  Richard  Grant  White  is  justified  in  assum- 
ing that  the  purest  spoken  English  is  to  be  heard  in  the  best 
society  of  London.  To  us  who  do  not  enter  that  circle,  it  is  ade- 
quately jwrtrayed  in  the  books  of  the  standard  English  authors. 
The  young  writer  will  for  a  long  time  find  in  the  dictionaries  aU 
the  help  he  can  make  use  of.  By  diligent  study  of  these,  by  care- 
ful and  critical  reatling,  and  by  intelhgent  listening  and  discus- 
sion, he  will  eventually  acquire  a  sense  of  fitness  that  will  rarely 
mislead  him  in  his  choice  of  words. 

By  •oorptod  nmgt  in  speech  we  nndentand  that  which  it  praotiaod  or  approved, 
ooiuiiiitentljr  end  advertently,  by  the  beet  writers  and  speakers  of  sny  given  time.  These 
qualifications  are  neoemary,  for  Landor  well  obsenrea,  **  Oood  writers  arc  authorities  for 
only  what  Is  good,  and  by  no  means,  and  in  no  degresi,  for  what  is  bad,  which  may  be 
found  even  In  tham.**— Uaix. 

One  writer,  thanfore,  in  these  days,  shall  not  follow  Piers  the  Plowman,  nor  Oower, 
nor  Ljrdgate,  nor  yet  Chauofr,  for  their  languago  ii«  now  not  of  unc  with  nn ;  neither  yet 
shsll  he  take  the  terms  of  the  Northmen.  Kuch  lut  they  u«e  in  daily  talk,  whether  they  be 
noblemen  or  gentlemen  or  their  best  clc^k^  nor  in  effect  any  opeech  used  beyond  the 
River  Trent ;  though  no  man  can  deny  that  theirs  is  the  pnrest  Bnglish  Saxon  at  this 
day.  Yes  it  is  not  m  eoortly,  nor  so  cnrtent  as  onr  Sontbcm  Bnglish  is,  no  more  is  tha 
far  Western  man's  speech.  He  shall,  therefore,  take  the  naoal  speeoh  of  the  Court,  and 
that  of  London,  and  the  shires  lying  about  London,  within  Kizty  miles,  and  not  mndi 
above.— PiMTKMHAM,  Art  of  SmgliMh  PoetU,  1683. 

(c)  Reputable  usage  excludes  tiic  u8o  of  slang. 


372  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

Slang  may  consist  in  words  or  expressions  (1)  that 
are  unjustifiably  created,  or  (2)  that  are  misused. 

(1)  Slang  Words  no  careful  speaker  will  employ  in 
any  signification.  They  are  low  in  origin,  low  in  usage. 
The  very  sound  of  them  locates  a  speaker  as  unerringly  as 
a  gilt  watch-chain  would. 

Yet  almost  all  the  new  words  coined  by  the  people  in  obedience 
to  popular  necessity  have  been  regarded  as  slang  when  first  em- 
ployed. "  Mob  **  is  a  contraction  of  mobile  rubjuSy  and  was  sneered 
at  contemptuously  by  Deim  S^^dft ;  yet  to-day  it  is  indispensable. 
Which  of  the  scores  of  words  that  assail  our  ears  upon  the  street 
will  be  employed  by  the  statesman  of  the  next  generation  ?  No 
one  knows  ;  but  the  principle  is  that  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 
If  the  word  is  a  necessity  to  the  popular  mind,  it  will  hold  its  own 
in  spite  of  those  that  are  heedful  of  the  words  they  use,  and  is  in 
no  need  of  their  support.  If  it  is  not  a  necessity,  it  will  disap- 
pear, no  matter  who  uses  it.  The  safe  rule,  for  the  young  writer 
at  least,  is  to  wait  till  the  word  has  been  accepted  by  writers  and 
speakers  of  unquestioned  authority. 

No  expression  can  become  a  ^^llgarism  which  has  not  a  broad 
foundation.  The  language  of  the  \Tilgar  hath  its  source  in  phy- 
sics, in  known,  comprehended,  and  operative  things. — Landor. 

These  vulgarisms  and  corruptions  of  language  do  not  come  at 
once  into  general  use ;  they  creep  in  stealthily  ;  they  often  spring 
from  ignorance  or  caprice  ;  then  they  do  some  service  in  an  hum- 
ble way,  in  the  market  or  the  courts,  ministering  to  the  wants  of 
the  poor  and  the  ignorant ;  then  they  attract  the  favor  of  the  press 
in  its  least  authoritative  form,  and  finally,  partly  from  assumption 
and  partly  from  necessity,  they  come  to  be  acknowledged  as 
good  citizens  and  freeholders  in  the  realm. — Quoted  by  Schkle  de 
Vere. 

(2)  Slang  Signification  is  a  greater  danger  to  the 
young  writer.  So  many  words,  admirable  in  themselves, 
and  found  in  the  works  of  the  best  authors,  have  been  de- 
based by  unthinking  misuse,  that  only  vigilance  and  deli- 
cacy of  apprehension  can  guard  one  against  them. 


Chap.  XDL]  SLANG.  878 

The  adjective  *'  nice,"  for  instance,  has  a  definite  and  useful  sig- 
nification. Yet  because  it  has  been  made  an  omnibus  for  expres- 
sion of  the  most  heterogeneous  qualities  (see  page  xxvi),  it  must 
be  avoided,  or  used  with  an  aiwlogy. 

The  adjective  "  genteel "  has  a  noble  lineage,  and  in  definitions 
of  the  dictionaries  and  books  of  synonyms  is  still  unimpeachcd. 
Yet  in  refined  circles  and  in  the  best  contempomiy  literature  it  is 
now  used  to  express  not  what  is  refined,  but  what  seeks  to  be 
so,  and  is  characterized  by  uneasy  consciousness  of  effort,  far 
removed  from  the  well-bred  assurance  of  the  lady  and  gentle- 
man. 

"Culture,"  again,  is  a  w^ord  so  indispensable  tliat  only  a  circum- 
locution will  approximately  express  the  idea  it  conveys ;  but  it 
can  no  longer  be  freely  used,  since  in  newspaper  columns  every 
local  politician  is  as  '  *  cultured  "  as  he  is  "  genial  "  and  *  *  high- 
toned."  The  last  expression  is  so  completely  relegated  to  the 
class  of  people  who  have  usurped  it,  that  one  gets  a  little  shock  of 
surprise  to  meet  the  following  sentence  in  an  Oxford  lecture  of 
Professor  Shairp : 

Again  there  arc  high-toned  spirits  which  regard  the  world  as  a  scene  made  to  give 
■oope  for  moral  heroism. 

The  fact  is,  these  words,  especially  those  that  denote  social  dis- 
tinction of  any  kind,  follow  the  experience  of  the  fashions.  A  new 
shape  of  l>onnet  is  introduced  by  some  one  to  whom  the  commu- 
nity is  accustomed  to  look  for  guidance  in  matters  of  taste. 
Hideous  as  it  might  have  seemed  if  introduced  under  other  aus- 
pices, it  soon  takes  on  by  association  of  ideas  the  same  air  of  fit- 
ness and  beauty  tliat  the  lady  has  always  seemed  to  have  about  her, 
till  presently  any  other  shape  seems  out  of  date  and  unbecoming. 
But  meantime  it  has  been  adopted  and  exaggerated  by  those 
looked  upon  as  the  worst-dressed  persons  in  the  community,  and 
so  gets  associated  with  itself  all  the  unpleasant  ideas  that  their  cos- 
tumes have  been  in  the  habit  of  suggesting.  It  is  now  full  time 
for  a  change,  and  when  tlie  leader  of  society  appears  in  a  new  shape 
we  are  the  more  ready  to  receive  it  cordially  because  we  are  so 
heartily  tirc»d  of  the  old. 

In  like  manner,  when  words  that  are  meant  to  be  titles  of  ad- 
mirable qualities  are  assumed  by  those  who  in  the  very  assnmp- 


374  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

tion  of  the  title  show  the  lack  of  the  qualities  the  title  indicates, 
the  man  of  sense  does  not  dispute  with  them  as  to  the  possession 
of  the  title,  but  simply  declines  it  himself. 

"  You  are  no  gentleman,"  screams  an  angry  disputant. 

*'Do  you  consider  yourself  one  ?"  is  the  quiet  rejoinder. 

*'  Yes,  I  do.** 

"  Then  I  am  glad  you  don*t  think  me  one." 

And  that  is  about  all  there  is  of  it. 

When  the  college  instructor  finds  that  the  district-school  teacher 
and  the  hair-dresser  and  the  white- washer  advertise  themselves 
*'  Professor  So-and-so,"  he  does  not  protest ;  he  simply  prefers  for 
the  future  to  be  called  *'  Mr." 

The  Duke  of  Saxo- Weimar  was,  in  Alabama,  asked  the  question, 
"Are  you  the  man  that  wants  to  go  to  Selma?  "  and  upon  assenting 
he  was  told,  "Then  I'm  the  gentleman  that's  going  to  drive  you." 
Precisely  the  same  thing  occurred  to  Sir  Charles  Lyell :  **  I  asked 
the  master  of  the  inn  at  Coming,  who  was  very  attentive  to  his 
guests,  to  find  my  coachman.  He  immediately  called  out  in  his 
bar-room,  '  Where  is  the  gentleman  that  brought  this  man  here  ? ' 
A  few  days  before,  a  farmer  in  New  York  had  styled  my  wife  wo- 
many  though  he  called  his  own  daughters  ladies,  and  would,  I  be- 
lieve, have  extended  that  term  to  the  maid-sei-vant.  I  know  of 
an  orator  who  once  said  at  a  public  meeting  where  bonnets  pre- 
dominated, '*  The  ladies  were  the  last  at  the  Cross  and  the  first  at 
the  Tomb  !  "     The  vulgarity  of  entering  a  traveller's  name  on  the 

register  of  the  house  as  **  Mr.  and  lady'^  is  only  suri)assed  by 

placing  the  same  words  on  visiting-cards. — Schele  de  Vere. 

A  clergyman  reading  in  the  Book  of  Daniel,  and  feeling  un- 
certain of  the  pronunciation  of  Shadi-ach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego, 
referred  to  them  a  second  time  &%  the  same  three  gentlemen. — Al- 

FOBD. 

In  a  railroad  car  the  seats  were  all  full  except  one,  which  was 
occupied  by  a  pleasant-looking  Irishman,  and  at  one  of  the  sta- 
tions a  couple  of  evidently  well-bred  and  intelligent  young  ladies 
came  in  to  procure  seats.  Seeing  none  vacant,  they  were  about  to 
go  into  the  next  car,  when  Patrick  arose  hastily  and  offered  them 
his  seat  ^vith  evident  pleasure. 

•'  But  you  will  have  no  seat  for  yourself,"  responded  one  of  the 


Chap.  XIX.]  SLANG.  375 

young  ladies  with  a  smile,  hesitating,  with  true  politeness,  to  ac- 
cept it. 

"Niver  mind  that,"  said  the  gallant  Hibernian  ;  "  I'd  ride  upon 
a  cowcatcher  to  New  York  any  time  for  a  smile  from  such  jinUe- 
manly  ladies." 

And  lie  retired  into  the  next  car  amid  the  cheers  of  his  fellow- 
passengers. 

The  two  uses  of  slang  are  (1)  to  escape  thought, 
and  (2)  to  conceal  it.  (I)  One  escapes  the  mental  exertion 
of  selecting  a  fitting  expression  by  using  a  stereotyped  label 
that  takes  the  place  of  all  expressions.  A  few  years  ago 
the  slang  adjective  was  "  red-hot."  A  pleasing  entertain- 
ment, a  becoming  ribbon,  delicious  ice-cream,  all  were 
alike  "  red-hot."  It  was  less  wearisome  to  apply  this 
epithet  to  all  three  than  to  select  "  pleasing,"  "  becoming," 
and  "  delicious "  as  the  suitable  adjectives.  Hence  the 
use  of  slang,  even  more  than  the  interpolation  of  foreign 
words  (see  page  366),  indicates  a  limited  vocabulary,  and 
tends  to  limit  it  still  further. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  peculiarities  of  English  slang  the  New 
Orleans  Times  recalls  the  anecdote  of  a  young  American  lady  in 
England  who,  while  playing  croquet,  exclaimed  at  a  surprisingly 
fortunate  shot  of  an  opposing  player:  "Oh!  what  a  horrid 
scratch ! "  whereupon  a  young  Enghsh  lady  remarked :  •*  You 
shouldn't  use  such  language ;  it's  slang."  *•  Well,  what  should  I 
say  ?  "  asked  Miss  America.  •*  Oh  !  you  should  say.  What  a  beastly 
fluke!" 

(2)  But  slang  also  panders  to  a  moral  laziness,  that  shirks 
the  responsibility  of  having  convictions. 

Take  for  example  the  tendency  in  what  are  fashionable  and 
claim  to  l)o  refined  circles  in  this  country,  and  perhaps  even  more 
especially  in  England,  to  the  use  of  vague  and  indefinite  phrases, 
not  Ko  much  to  hide  a  deficiency  of  ideas  as  to  cover  discreet  reti- 
cencies  of  opinion,  or  prudent  suppressions  of  natural  and  spont*- 


376  PURITY.  [Part  IV. 

neous  feeling.  The  practice  of  employing  these  empty  sounds — 
they  have  no  claim  to  bo  called  words— is  founded  partly  in  a  cau- 
tious desire  of  avoiding  embarrassing  self-committals,  and  partly 
in  that  vulgar  prejudice  of  polite  society  which  proscribes  the  ex- 
pression of  decided  sentiments  of  admiration,  approval,  or  dissatis- 
faction, or  of  precise  and  definite  opinions  uikju  any  subject,  as  con- 
trary to  the  laws  of  good  taste,  indicative  of  a  want  of  knowledge 
of  the  world,  and  moreover  arrogant  and  pedantic.  —Marsh. 

He  WM  showing  the  man  the  new  Imj  mule  that  he  waa  working  in  a  team  with  the 
<dd  gray.  "Yon  warrant  bim  eoond,  and  perfectly  kind  and  gentle?"  the  man  said. 
**  Perfectly,*^  aaid  Parmer  John ;  "  my  wife  and  children  drive  him,  and  he  is  a  jierfect  pet. 
Comes  into  the  houM>  like  a  dog.^  *'  Ea^j  to  shoe  ?  "  asked  the  man.  "  Well,  1  fn>efw  ku  ; 
fact  is,  I  never  hnd  him  Hhod,  I  don't  believe  in  it;  he  workK  better  without  it,"  naid  Far- 
mer John.  "  How  docs  he  act  when  you  put  the  crupper  on  ?  "  asked  the  man.  Farmer 
John  hesitated.  **  Well,  pretty  good,  I  guess,"  ho  said ;  '*  fact  is,  I  never  put  it  on." 
*'  How  does  it  get  on  ?  "  asked  the  man ;  "  who  does  put  it  on  ?  "  "  Well,  I  kind  of  don't 
know,"  said  Farmer  John  ;  "  fact  is,  he  had  the  hamem  on  when  I  got  him,  au'  it  fit  him 
so  well,  an'  he  seemed  to  l>e  so  kine  o'  contented  in  it,  like,  that  I  sort  of  never  took  it 
ofTn  him."  "  And  how  long  have  you  had  him  ?"  asked  the  man.  Farmer  John  chewed 
airtwatstraw  very  meditatively.  "Well,"  he  mid,  "not  to  exceed  more'n  two  year, 
mebhe.*^  And  the  man  backed  a  little  further  away,  and  said  he  would  '  *  sort  of  look 
round  a  little  further  before  he  bought,  like."  And  Farmer  John  never  saw  him  again, 
eren  unto  this  day. — Burlington  Hatokeye. 

Where  is  slang jpermissilhle  f  The  answer  is  easy  :  lS<o- 
where.  A  writer  in  BlackwoocTs  Magazine  says  that  all 
educated  people  use  three  different  kinds  of  English  :  "  Old 
Saxon  English  when  they  go  to  church,  or  read  good  poetry ; 
vernacular  or  colloquial  English,  not  altogether  free  from 
slang  and  vulgarity,  when  they  talk  to  one  another  in  the 
ordinary  intercourse  of  life;  and  literaiy  English  when 
they  make  speeches  or  sermons,  and  wu-ite  or  read  articles 
in  reviews  or  books." 

This  certainly  is  not  true  of  all  educated  people,  nor 
should  it  be  true  of  any.  The  language  of  ordinary  inter- 
course is  less  formal  than  that  of  the  essay  or  the  discourse, 
because  the  thought  is  less  formal ;  but  with  many  people 
there  is,  and  with  all  educated  people  there  should  be,  the 
same  effort  in  both  to  give  the  purest  as   well  as  the 


Chap.  XDL)  SLANG.  377 

most  exact  expression  to  the  thought  as  it  is.  So  in- 
terpenetrated are  thought  and  language,  that  slang  in 
speech,  even  in  the  freest  and  most  familiar  intercourse, 
betokens  shabby  ideas,  inexact  thought,  and  a  low  literary 
standard.  Stilted  and  pedantic,  speech  is  never  to  be ;  but 
the  easiest,  most  unassuming,  and  most  delightful  language 
of  daily  intercourse  will  be  best  assured  where  there  is 
thorough  mastery  of  reputable  English,  and  where  no  other 
is  heard. 

Exercise. — Give  purity  to  the  following  sentences  by 
altering  words  and  expressions : 

People  talk  about  the  emancipation  of  the  slaves,  as  if  it  could 
be  done  nff-kcnid.  How  cheering  it  is  to  hear  again  the  voice  of  a 
friend,  who  has  for  long  been  separated  from  us !  He  does  things 
in  a  careless,  slip-slop  manner.  In  the  following  year  the  tables 
were  turned^  and  the  party  of  the  Queen-mother  came  into  power. 
It  was  by  such  obsequious  conduct  that  he  curried  favor  with  the 
leader  of  his  party.  He  was  deserted  by  his  friends  for  good  and 
all.  Those  who  stick  bj/  you  and  supjwrt  you  in  adversity  are  true 
friends.  Nai)oleon  gained  a  great  lot  of  battles  before  his  career 
was  finished. 

The  secretary  did  not  come  up  to  the  so'atch  till  the  close  of  the 
debate,  when  he  more  than  insinuated  that  his  master  had  put  his 
foot  in  it. 

Many  of  them  came  readily  on  deck,  and  being  dotcn  on  their 
marrow-bones^  did  not  yenture  to  rise  till  they  were  positively  or- 
dered to  do  so. 

••  How  do  yon  like  my  boots,  love  ?  **  asked  a  youthful  bride. 
"  Oh,  they're  immense"  he  said. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Purity. 

^    English  words,  p.  353. 
((.   PriHcnt  fiS4t(jff  p.  353 

1.  Obsolete  words,  p.  354. 

2.  Novel  words,  p.  354. 

a.  Wholly  new  words,  p.  354. 

1.  New  things  and  new  thoughts  need  new  words,  p 
354. 

TECHNICAL  WORDS. 

Proper  use  of  technical  words,  p.  356. 

2.  Masters  of  style  may  coin  words,  p.  359. 

3.  Temporary  coinage  occasionally  permissible,  p.  361. 

4.  Factitious  notoriety  sometimes  becomes  popularity, 

p.  362. 

5.  Popular  need  gives  rise  to  new  words,  p.  363. 

Newspapers  not  exponents  of  popular  need,  p.  363. 
0.  Expansion  and  contraction  of  old  words,  p.  364. 
y.  Combinations  of  old  words,  p.  365. 
b.  National  umgi\  p.  366. 

1.  Foreign  usage,  p.  366. 

o.  Interpolation  into  English  construction,  p.  366. 

0.  Adoption  of  foreign  construction,  p.  368. 

1.  Speaking  another  language  unnecessarily,  p.  368. 

2.  Employing  foreign  idioms,  p.  369. 

2.  Provincialisms,  p.  370. 
C.  Reputable  usage^  p.  371. 

1.  Words  unjustifiably  created,  p.  372. 

2.  Words  misused,  p.  372. 
Uses  of  slang. 

1.  To  escape  thought,  p.  375. 

2.  To  conceal  tliouglit,  p.  375. 
Where  is  slang  permissible,  p.  376. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

PROPRIETY. 

The  opposite  to  lofrical  tnith  is  properly  error ;  to  moral  truth,  a  lie ;  to  grainm*tical 
truth,  a  blunder.— CiuPBELL. 

ii.  Authorized  Definitions  are  probably  less 
known  l)y  people  who  suppose  they  know  them,  than  any 
other  subject  of  information.  To  the  majority  of  men, 
most  words  not  representing  the  material  necessities  of  life 
are  mere  counters,  used  and  handed  about  with  no  ap- 
prehension of  their  meaning.  One  may  be  a  vohiminous 
reader,  and  yet  know  words  inadequately.  Unless  he  lias 
formed  the  habit  of  looking  up  the  dictionary  discussion 
of  unaccustomed  words,  his  definition  of  them  will  be 
based  upon  the  meaning  he  conjectured  from  the  context 
to  have  been  their  signification  in  particular  passages. 
When  one  remembers  that  all  science  is  based  on  a  few 
definitions ;  that  misunderstandings  and  quarrels  and 
wars  have  grown  out  of  words  meant  in  one  way  by  the 
speaker,  and  understood  in  another  by  the  hearer,  it  will 
seem  worth  while  to  be  sure  one  knows  the  meaning  of 
the  words  he  uses. 

Words  are  an  amaziDg  barrier  to  the  reception  of  truth.     .     .     . 

Definition  of  words  haa  been  commonly  called  a  mere  exercise 
of  g^mmarians  ;  but  when  we  come  to  consider  the  innumerable 
mnrdora,  proscriptions,  massaores,  and  tortures  which  men  have 
inflicted  on  each  other  from  mistaking  the  meanings  of  words,  the 


380  PROPKIETY.  [Part  IV. 

exercise  of  definition  certainly  begins  to  assnme  a  more  dignified 
aspect.     .     .     . 

If  70U  choow  to  qoAirel  with  your  eldest  son,  do  it ;  if  70a  are  determined  to  be  di»- 
gnsted  with  the  world,  and  to  go  and  live  in  Westmoreland,  do  ao ;  if  yoa  are  rcfMilved  to 
quit  your  coantry,  and  Mttto  in  America,  go  I— only,  when  yon  have  aectied  the  reamnR 
upon  which  you  take  <hm  or  the  other  of  these  steps,  have  the  goodneas  to  examine  whether 
the  u>onU  in  which  these  reasons  are  contained  have  any  diatinot  meaninR ;  and  if  you 
find  they  have  not,  embrace  your  flrst-bom,  forget  America,  unloose  your  packagcit,  and 
remain  where  yoa  are.— Stdmbt  Smrb. 

A  lecturer  on  natural  history  was  caUed  upon  the  other  day  to  pay  for  a  live  rabbit 
whi(^  he  had  in  a  basket  in  a  railway  car,  and  which  the  conductor  naid  would  be 
charged  the  same  as  a  dog.  The  lecturer  vainly  explaincil  that  he  was  going  to  use  the 
rabbit  in  illustration  of  a  lecture  he  was  about  to  give  in  another  town,  and,  indignantly 
taking  a  small  live  tortoise  from  his  pocket,  said  :  "  You'll  be  Lelllng  me  next  that  this  is 
a  dog,  and  that  I  murt  pay  for  it  also.**  The  conductor  went  for  superior  orders,  and  on 
his  return  delivered  this  lecture  on  natural  hihtory  :  *'  Cats  is  dogs,  rabbits  is  dogs,  but  a 
tortus  is  a  hinsect."    The  profemor  ha<!  to  pay  dog-fare  for  the  rabbit. 

Forming  Definitions  of  familiar  words  is  in  every 
way  an  admirable  exercise,  especially  in  class  or  in  company, 
where  there  is  the  stimulus  of  emulation.  These  may  be 
merely  formal,  like  the  following  : 

The  modem  book  is  an  assemblage  of  leaves,  of  convenient 
form  and  dimensions,  securely  united  at  one  edge,  with  pages 
regularly  numbered,  impressed  with  characters  of  different,  but 
fixed  forms,  according  to  their  several  uses,  words  separated  by 
spaces,  members  of  the  periods,  and  the  periods  themselves,  dis- 
tinguished by  appropriate  points,  and  the  whole  cut  up  into  para- 
graphs, sections,  and  chapters,  according  to  the  natural  divisions 
of  the  subject,  or  the  convenience  of  the  wiiter,  printer,  or  reader, 
and,  finally,  abundantly  provided  with  explanatory  notes  and  refer- 
ences, and  ample  tables  of  contents  and  indexes. — Mabsh. 

But  they  will  be  more  interesting  and  more  valuable 
when  they  reach  those  intangible  ideas  that  find  their 
definition  in  one's  life  experience  ;  that  to  the  boy  are 
abstract  ideas,  while  to  the  man  they  overflow  with  a  thou- 
sand memories.     Of  these,  the  following  is  an  instance : 

Sensibility  is  a  constitutional  quickness  of  sympathy  with  pain 
and  pleasure,  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  gi-atificatious  that  accom- 


Chap.  XX.] 


MALAPROPS.  881 


pany  social  intercotirse,  mutual  endearments,  and  reciprocal  pref- 
erences. — GoLBBIDaE. 

Propriety  may  be  violated  by  using  words  that  for 
the  meauing  intended  are  (a)  Inaccurate,  or  (b)  Inappro- 
priate. 

(a)  Inaccurate  Words  are  often  called  malapropos, 
a  word  which  recalls  Mrs.  Malaprop,  a  character  in  Sheri- 
dan's comedy,  "  The  Rivals." 

It  was  she  who  wanted  her  niece  to  illiterate  a  lover  from  her 
memory,  who  declared  Sir  Anthony  was  an  absolute  misanthropy, 
and  who  discouraed  as  follows  on  the  education  of  women : 

Obwrve  me,  Sir  Anthony,  I  would  by  no  means  wish  a  daughter  of  mine  to  be  a 
progeny  of  learning.  I  don't  think  so  much  learning  becomes  a  young  woman;  for  in- 
•tanoe,  I  would  never  let  her  meildlc  with  Greek,  or  Hebrew,  or  algebra,  ur  simony,  or 
flnxiona,  or  pnradoxea,  or  such  inflammatory  branches  of  learning ;  neither  would  it  be 
ry  for  her  to  handle  any  of  your  mathematical,  astronomical,  diabolical  instni- 
But,  Sir  Anthony,  I  would  send  her,  at  nine  years  old,  to  a  boarding-school,  in 
to  lenm  her  a  little  ingenuity  and  artifice.  Then,  sir,  she  should  have  a  super- 
ciUons  knowledge  in  accounts ;  and  as  she  grew  up  I  would  have  her  instructed  in  geom- 
etry, that  ahe  might  know  something  of  the  oontagious  countries ;  but  above  all.  Sir 
Anthony,  she  should  be  mistress  of  orthodoxy,  that  she  miglit  not  mis-spell,  and  mia 
pronotince  words  so  shamefully  as  girls  usually  do  ;  and  likewise  that  she  might  repre- 
hend the  tme  meaning  of  what  she  is  saying.  This,  Sir  Anthony,  is  what  I  would  have 
»  woman  know;  and  I  don't  think  there  is  a  supcrstitiouH  article  in  it 

Presently  she  remarks  that  nothing  is  so  conciliating  to  yon 
young  people  as  severity,  prei)ares  her  niece  to  receive  Captain 
Absolute's  invocations,  and  hopes  the  ca])tain  will  not  consider 
her  wholly  illegible.  8he  is  glad  to  get  her  niece  from  under  her 
intuition,  and  assures  her  maid  that  unless  she  is  faithful,  she  will 
forfeit  her  mistress's  malevolence  forever,  while  her  being  a  simple- 
ton shall  be  no  excuse  for  her  locality.  To  Captain  Absolute  she 
says  that  his  being  his  father's  son  is  a  sufficient  accommodation,but 
from  the  ingenuity  of  his  ai>i>earanco  she  is  convinced  he  doser\'es 
the  character  given  of  him.  Few  gentlemen,  she  sighs,  know  how 
to  appreciate  the  ineffectual  (pialities  in  a  woman,  and  after  pro* 
nouncing  the  captain  the  very  pine-apple  of  politeness,  drops  into 
grammatical  phrase  as  follows : 

I  am  snn  I  have  done  everything  in  my  pow«r  since  I  exploded  the  affair.  Lonir  ago 
I  laid  my  podtive  ooDJmiodoiM  oa  her  amvm  to  think  on  the  fMlow  again.    I  have  elnce 


382  PROPRIETY.  [Pabt  IV. 

Udd  Sir  Anthony's  preposition  buforc  her;  but,  I  am  anrry  tony,  she  aeenu  resolved  Ut 
decline  every  particle  that  I  cnjuin  her.  .  .  .  Oh,  ii  givex  me  the  hydrostatics  to 
such  a  tlegree  !  I  thought  lihe  had  persisted  from  corresiKindin^;  with  him ;  but,  behold, 
this  very  day  I  have  interoeded  another  letter  from  the  fellow.  .  .  .  There,  sir,  an 
attack  u|N>n  my  language  1  What  du  you  think  of  that  ?— an  aepersion  upon  my  parts  of 
speech  !  Wait  ever  such  a  brute  !  Sure,  if  1  reprehend  anything  in  this  world,  it  is  the 
use  of  my  oracular  tongue,  and  a  nice  deningumeni  uf  epitaphs !  .  .  .  Then  he'K  ro 
well  bred— so  full  of  alacrity,  and  adulation,  and  has  so  much  to  say  for  himself— in  micb 
good  language,  too.  His  physiognomy  is  so  grammatloal.  Then  bis  presence  is  so  noble  I 
X  protoit,  when  I  saw  him,  I  thought  of  what  Hamlet  says  tn  the  play : 

Hesperian  curls — the  front  of  Job  himself  I 

An  eje,  like  March,  to  threaten  at  command  i 

A  station,  like  Harry  Mercury,  new- 
Something  abont  kissing— on  a  hill— however,  the  similitude  stmck  me  directly.    .    .    . 
Well,  Sir  Anthony,  since  you  desire  it,  we  will  not  anticipate  the  past ;  so  mind,  young 
people,  oor  retrospection  will  be  all  to  the  future.    .    .    . 

So?  floT  Here's  fine  work!— here's  fine  suicide,  parricide,  and  simulation  going  on 
in  the  fields  I  And  Sir  Anthony  not  to  be  found  to  prevent  the  antixtrophe !  .  .  . 
That  gentleman  can  tell  you — twas  he  envelD|ied  the  affair  to  me  .  .  .  but  he  can 
tell  you  the  |ierpendiculars.  .  .  .  We  should  only  participate  thin*^.  .  .  .  Nay, 
no  delusions  to  the  past.     Etc 

Similar  blunders  are  found  where  they  could  hardly  be 
looked  for. 

I  do  not  know  what  character  you  have  for  accuracy. — Moobe. 

I  thus  obtained  a  character  for  natural  powers  of  reasoning, 
which  I  could  not  refute,  and  yet  which  I  felt  were  undesen'ed. — 
A.  B.  Edwards. 

[An  almost  incredible  series  of  blunders,  but  found  in  her  re- 
cent novel,  '•  Miss  Carew."] 

The  reciprocal  ciN-ility  of  authors  is  one  of  the  most  risible 
scenes  in  the  farce  of  life. — Dr.  Johnson. 

There  are  two  modes  of  estimating  the  relative  amount  of  words 
derived  from  different  sources  in  a  given  language. — Marsh. 

Macaulay  speaks  of  the  ohservatioyi  of  the  Sabbath. 

"William  Taylor  wrote,  in  1814:  "A  moral  and  political  rather 
than  a  beautiful  value."  Addison  speaks  of  apoplectic  balsam. 
Cowper  has  ludicrous  talent.  I  have  read  of  a  miscellaneous  au- 
thor. Yet  we  have  sick  rooms  and  di/ing  beds,  insane  asylums, 
mad  houses. — Hall. 

See  use  oijpersonality,  p.  47. 


Chap.  XX.  ]  MALAPROPS.  383 

Classical  Words. — It  will  be  noticed  tliat  Mrs. 
Malaprop's  blunders  are  mostly  in  the  use  of  woi<ls 
derived  from  the  Latin.  For  this  as  well  as  for  other 
reason 8 'preference  should  be  given  to  the  shoiter  words 
<»f  Anglo-Saxon  origin,  where  the  root  is  not  lost  in  tho 
mazes  of  a  voluminous  tail.  However  certain  a  writei 
may  be  that  his  use  of  English  is  correct,  he  cannot  be 
sui*e  that  his  hearers  will  apprehend  it  correctly.  Every 
blunder  in  speech  represents  a  scoie  of  blunders  in  hear- 
ing.    The  little  girl  that,  after  singing  Sunday  after  Sun- 

The  cunKCcratvd  crow  I'll  bear 
Till  death  Rball  set  mo  free, 

iiHpiiiL'd  with  languid  curiosity  what  kind  of  a  bear  a  con- 
secrated cross-eyed  bear  was,  anyway,  has  many  uncon- 
scious fellow^-sufFerers,  even  in  intelligent  congregations. 

Mi-8.  A. :  "  Now,  Mi-8.  B.,  will  yon  corao  and  soe  onr  apiary?" 
Mrs.  B.  (who  has  l>oeu  putting  it  oflf  all  the  afternoon)  :  "  Well, 
Mra.  A.,  the  thing  is,  you  know,  I'm — I'm  rather  afmd  of  mon- 
keys ! " 

Gent  to  the  waiter :  "  Bring  me  some  grammatical  and  typo- 
graphical errors."  Waiter  (looking  pu/zlod  at  fii-st,  but  recovering 
in  a  moment  his  usual  serenity)  :  "We  are  ju.st  out  of  them,  sir." 
"  Then  what  do  you  mean  by  keejnng  them  on  your  bill  of  fare?" 

"Are  you  the  judge  of  reprobates?"  said  the  Boston  rast^s 
Mrs.  Partington,  as  she  walked  into  an  oflice  of  a  Judge  of  Pro- 
bate. "  I  am  a  Judge  of  Piobate,"  was  the  reply.  "Well,  that's 
it,  I  expect,"  quoth  the  old  lady.  "You  see,  my  father  died 
detested,  and  he  left  several  little  infidels,  and  I  want  to  be  their 
executioner  I " 

A  gentleman,  wisliing  to  be  undisturbed  one  day,  instructed  his 
Irish  servant  to  admit  no  one,  and,  if  any  one  should  inquire  for 
him,  to  give  him  an  "equivocal  answer."  Night  came,  and  tlie 
gentleman  proceeded  to  interrogate  Pat  as  to  his  callers.  "Did 
any  one  call?"  "Yis,  sur,  wan  gentleman."  "  \Mjat  did  he 
Kjiy?"     "He  axed  was  yer  lioTior  in?"      " Will,  wlmt  did  ymi 


384  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

tell  him?**  "Sure,  I  gave  him  a  quivikle  answer  jist."  "How 
was  that  ?  "     "  I  axed  him  was  his  grandmother  a  moukej !  " 

Further,  it  is  a  certain  fact  that  when  we  are  much  accustomed 
to  jmrtieular  terms,  we  can  scarcely  avoid  fancying  that  we  under- 
stand them,  whether  they  have  a  meaning  or  not.— Campbell. 

Mankind  in  general  are  so  little  in  the  habit  of  looking  steadily 
at  theii-  own  meaning,  or  of  weighing  the  words  by  which  they 
express  it,  that  the  writer  who  is  careful  to  do  both  will  some- 
times mislead  his  readers  through  the  very  excellence  which 
qualifies  him  to  be  their  instructor ;  and  this  with  no  other  fault 
on  his  part  than  the  modest  mistake  of  supposing  in  those  to 
whom  he  aildresses  himself  an  intellect  as  watchful  as  his  own. — 

COLERIDOB. 

Short  Words  are  Best. — While  it  should  be  the 
writer's  iirst  eflFort  to  express  liis  meaning  as  exactly  as 
possible,  and  while  this  will  often  require  all  the  re- 
sources of  his  vocabulary,  alike  of  Anglo-Saxon  and  of 
classical  origin,  yet  where  there  is  a  choice  between  the 
crisp,  vigorous,  unmistakable  Saxon,  and  the  ornate,  sono- 
rous Latin,  choice  should  fall  upon  the  former,  as  not  only 
in  better  taste,  but  as  comparatively  free  from  liability  to 
misapprehension. 

You  will  often  find  that  a  sentence,  every  word  of  which  may  be 
authorized  English,  has  a  sickly  haze  hanging  over  it,  as  you  im- 
agine your  utterance  of  it  to  your  hearers,  which  is  entirely  due  to 
its  Latin  vocabulaiy.  It  becomes  transparent  the  instant  you 
strike  out  Norman  words  from  the  points  of  emphasis,  and  put 
Saxon  words  in  their  places. — Phelps. 

Valuable  as  the  Latin  adjuncts  to  our  language  are,  in  the  ap- 
preciation of  their  value  it  should  never  be  forgotten  that  they  are 
adjuncts.  The  fi*ame,  the  sinews,  the  nerves,  the  heart's  blood,  in 
brief,  the  body  and  soul  of  our  language  is  English ;  Latin  and 
Greek  furnish  only  its  limbs  and  outward  flourishes. — R.  G.  WnrrE. 

Exercise.  -  Use  simpler  words  in  the  following  sen- 
tences : 


Ohap.  XX.]  "JOHNSONESK"  385 

Their  hearts  are  like  that  of  the  principle  of  evil  himself  —in- 
corporeal, pure,  unmixed,  dephlegniated,  defecated  e\il. — Burke. 

We  may  well  commend  it  to  the  chaplain  of  a  neivine  hospi- 
tal, in  which  patients  congregate  who  are  afflicted  with  insomnia. 
—Phelps. 

I  would  inculcate  the  importance  of  a  careful  study  of  genuine 
English,  and  a  conscientious  scrupulosity  in  its  accurate  use. — 
Marsh. 

There  is  very  little  affinity,  either  in  sense  or  in  sound,  between 
precept  and  ihctrine ;  and  nothing  but  an  oscitancy  from  which  no 
writer  whatever  is  uniformly  excepted,  can  account  for  so  odd  a 
misapplication  of  a  familiar  term. — Campbell. 

They  agreed  to  fioinologate  the  choice  that  had  been  made. 
Some  writers  confine  their  attention  to  minutue  of  style.  His  de- 
mission of  office  caused  a  great  sensation.  If  we  wish  to  improve 
our  taste,  we  must  become  versant  with  the  best  classical  writers. 
Ceteris  paribus,  when  a  Saxon  and  a  Latin  word  offer  tliomselves, 
we  should  choose  the  Saxon.  The  amende  lionorable  ha\-ing  been 
made,  a  hostile  meeting  was  prevented.  The  subject  will  be 
treated  od  longum  in  the  next  edition  of  the  work.  The  produc- 
tion was  a  chef-d'ceuvre  of  ingenuity.  They  entered  into  the  con- 
cern with  great  gusto.  He  was  evidently  laboring  under  some 
hcUlucination.  My  friend  has  a  great  knack  at  remarks.  Our  cice- 
rone first  conducted  us  through  the  principal  buildings  of  the  city. 
The  mania  for  French  fashion  still  prevails.  It  was  not  considered 
quite  comme  il  faut  for  us  to  appear.  The  animus  that  pervaded 
the  address  was  manifest  throughout.  As  the  company  retired,  a 
ludicrous  coutretemps  took  i)lace. 

"Johnsonese"  is  a  term  frequently  applied  to 
writing  that  abounds  in  words  of  Latin  derivation,  so  called 
from  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson,  its  great  exponent. 

It  is  clear  that  Johnson  himself  did  not  think  in  the  dialect  in 
which  he  wrote.  The  expressions  which  came  first  to  his  tongue 
woi-e  simple,  energetic,  and  picturesque.  When  he  wrote  for  pub- 
lication, he  did  his  sentences  out  of  English  into  Johnsonese.  His 
letters  from  the  Hebrides  to  Mrs.  Thrale  are  the  original  of  that  work 
of  which  the  '*  Journey  to  the  Hebrides"  is  the  translation,  and 


386  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

it  is  amusing  to  compare  the  two  versions.  **  When  we  were  taken 
up-stttii-s,"  says  he  in  one  of  his  letters,  **  a  dirty  fellow  bounced 
out  of  the  l>ed  on  which  one  of  us  was  to  lie."  This  incident  is 
recorded  in  the  "Journey"  as  follows  :  "  Out  of  one  of  the  beds 
on  which  we  were  to  rei)Ose,  started  uj),  at  our  entrance,  a  man 
black  as  a  Cyclops  from  the  forge.  *'  Sometimes  Johnson  translated 
aloud.  *'  *  The  Rehearsal,' "  he  said,  very  unjustly,  ••  has  not  wit 
enough  to  keep  it  sweet ;  **  then,  after  a  pause,  "  it  has  not  vitality 
enough  to  keep  it  from  putrefaction." — Maoaulat. 
In  a  note  on 

Slattery  to  wadh  neat  •xoeOeDoe  opp<wed 
Should  make  derire  Tomit  from  empHnw : 

which  Johnson  explains,  **  fed  the  convulsions  of  eructation  with- 
out plenitude." — Htjdson. 

Dr.  Pan-  seems  to  think  that  eloquence  consists  not  in  an  abun- 
dance of  beautiful  images — not  in  simple  and  sublime  conceptions 
— not  in  the  feelings  of  the  passions  ;  but  in  a  studious  arrange- 
ment of  sonorovSy  exotic^  ctnd  sesqttijyetiul  words;  a  very  ancient 
error,  which  corrupts  the  style  of  the  young,  and  wearies  the  pa- 
tience of  sensible  men. — Sydney  Smith. 

Junius  did  much  to  limit,  Cobbett  something  to  overthrow,  the 
influence  of  the  stilted  Latinism  of  Johnson  and  his  school,  and 
to  bring  back  the  language,  if  not  to  a  Saxon  vocabulary,  at  least 
to  an  idiomatic  grammatic  structure. — Marsh. 

Modern  taste  shows  a  marked  preference  for  short 
words.  Marsh  gives  a  table  of  percentages  to  sliow  that 
the  best  writers  of  the  present  day  habitually  employ  in 
both  prose  and  poetry  a  larger  proportion  of  Anglo-Saxon 
words  than  the  best  writers  of  the  last  century. 

Think  not  that  strength  lies  in  the  big  round  word ; 

Or  that  the  brief  and  plain  must  needs  be  weak. 

To  whom  can  this  be  true  who  once  has  heard 

The  cry  for  help,  the  tongue  that  all  men  speak 

When  want,  or  woe,  or  fear,  is  in  the  throat. 

So  that  each  word  gasjied  out  is  like  a  shriek 

Pressed  from  the  sore  heart,  or  a  strange  wild  note 

Sung  by  some  fay  or  fiend  ?     There  is  a  strength 

Which  dies  if  stretched  too  far  or  spun  too  fine  ; 

Which  has  more  weight  than  breadth,  more  depth  than  length. 


Chap.  XX.]  SHORT  WORDS.  3S7 

Let  but  this  force  be  mine,  of  thooKht  and  speech. 

And  he  that  will  may  take  the  sleek  fat  phrase 

Whicli  glows  aud  burns  not,  though  it  gleam  and  shine ; 

Light  but  no  heat ;  a  flash  without  a  blaze  I 

Nor  is  it  mem  strength  that  the  short  word  boasts. 

It  serves  of  mure  than  fight  or  storm  to  tell. 

The  ruar  of  waves  that  clash  on  rock-bound  coasts ; 

The  crash  of  tall  trees  when  the  wild  winds  swell ; 

The  roar  of  guns,  i  he  groans  of  men  that  die 

On  blood-stained  fields.     It  has  a  voice  as  well 

For  them  that  weep  ;  for  them  that  mourn  the  dead. 

For  them  that  laugh,  and  dance,  and  chip  the  hand  : 

To  joy's  quick  step,  as  well  as  griefs  slow  tread. 

The  sweet  plain  words  we  learnt  at  first  keep  time ; 

And  though  the  theme  be  sad,  or  gay.  or  grand. 

With  such,  with  all,  these  may  be  made  to  chime 

In  thought,  or  8i)eech,  or  song,  or  prose,  or  rhyme. 

J.  Addison  Alexamdib. 

Tho  English  of  our  Bible  is  good.  Now  and  theu  some  long 
wonls  are  found,  and  they  always  hurt  the  verses  in  which  you 
find  them. 

Take  that  which  says,  "  O  ye  generation  of  vipers,  who  hath 
warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come  ?  " 

There  is  one  long  word  which  ought  not  to  be  in,  namely, 
"generation."  In  the  old  version  the  old  word  "  brood "  is  used. 
Read  the  verse  again  with  this  term,  and  you  feel  its  full  force : 
"  O  ye  viper's  brood,  who  hath  warned  you  to  flee  from  the  wrath 
to  come  ?  " 

Crime  sometimes  does  not  look  like  crime,  when  it  is  set  before 
us  in  many  folds  of  a  long  word.  Wlien  a  man  steals  and  wo  call  it 
•*  defalcation,"  we  are  at  a  loss  to  know  if  it  is  a  blunder  or  a  crime. 

If  he  does  not  tell  the  truth,  and  we  are  told  that  it  is  a  case  of 
"  prevarication,"  it  takes  us  some  time  to  know  just  what  we  should 
think  of  it. 

No  man  will  ever  cheat  himself  into  wrong-doing,  nor  will  he  be 
at  a  loss  to  judge  of  others,  if  he  thinks  and  speaks  of  acts  in  clear, 
orisp  ierms. 

It  Id  a  good  mle,  if  one  is  at  a  loss  to  know  if  an  act  is  right  or 
wrong,  to  write  it  down  in  short,  straight-out  English.— Uoratio 
Sbtmoub. 

Eaeampleg. — There  is  onlj  one  principle  of  public  conduct — 
Do  tohtU  you  think  rights  and  kUce  place  and  power  as  tm  acddmL 


388  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

Upon  any  other  plan,  office  is  shabbiness,  labor,  and  sorrow. — Syd- 
ney Smfth. 

Here  is  a  Chinese  version  of  the  parable  of  the  Prodigal  Son, 
which  was  read  at  a  festival  of  the  Chinese  Sunday-schools  in  New 
York: 

A  man,  he  two  sona.  Sob  tpmk  he  to  father ;  father  he  got  money ;  give  aome  he ; 
father  he  take  it  all  right.  I  joat  now  give  yoa  half.  He  give  him  half ;  he  go  long  way 
—  like  mc  come  China  to  New  Ycnrk. 

No  be  careful  of  mon«y,  oae  too  much  money,  all  gone;  he  very  hnngry.  He  go  to 
man.  He  want  work,  1m  mj,  all  right ;  he  tell  him  feed  pigs.  He  give  pigs  beans ;  he 
eat  with  pig«  himself. 

He  juKt  now  talk,  "  Ify  father  lie  rich  man— too  much  muney.  What  fur  inc  stay 
here  hungry  ?  I  want  to  go  back  and  aee  my  father.  I  say  to  him,  I  very  biid.  He  knows 
I  bad.     Emperor  (Gud)  see  I  bad.     No  bo  son,  may  be  coolie." 

He  go  back  ;  long  way,  father  see  him.  He  take  him  on  the  neck.  The  son  say,  "I 
very  bad.    I  just  now  no  be  your  son  ;  I  coolie." 

His  father  talkey  to  boy,  and  say,  "  Get  handsome  ooat ;  give  he  ring,  give  he  shoes ; 
bring  fat  cow— kill  him,  give  him  to  eat." 

They  very  g!a<1.    He  all  same  dead,  just  come  back  alive ;  he  lost ;  he  get  back. 

Number  one  M>n  oome.  He  hear  music ;  he  tell  Kervant.  '*  What  for  they  make  mu- 
sic?" 

He  say,  ••  Your  brother  oome  back ;  your  father  very  gtad  he  no  sick ;  he  kill  fat 
oow." 

Number  one  son  very  angry ;  he  no  go  inside  ;  very  angry.  Father  he  come  out ;  he 
say,  "  No  be  ftngry." 

Number  one  son  he  say,  "  I  stay  all  time  by  father ;  never  make  him  angry.  My 
father  never  kill  one  fat  cow  for  me.  My  brother  he  be  very  l)ad ;  he  use  muney  too 
much  ;  he  have  fat  cow  and  music.'' 

Father  8ay,  "  You  no  sec  ;  he  just  dead,  he  now  oome  to  life ;  he  lost,  he  now  come 
back."    They  make  music. 

(b)  Inappropriate  Words  may  convey  the  mean- 
ing unmistakably,  but  are  not  in  accordance  with  the 
English  idiom. 

A  Frenchman,  while  looking  at  a  number  of  vessels,  exclaimed, 
"  See  what  a  flock  of  ships  ! "  He  was  told  that  a  flock  of  ships 
was  called  a  fleet,  but  that  a  fleet  of  sheep  was  called  a  flock.  To 
assist  him  in  mastering  the  intricacies  of  the  English  language,  he 
was  told  that  a  flock  of  giiis  was  called  a  bevy,  that  a  bevy  of 
wolves  is  called  a  pack,  but  that  a  pack  of  cards  is  never  called  a 
bevy,  though  a  pack  of  thieves  is  called  a  gang,  and  a  gang  of  an- 
gels is  called  a  host,  while  a  host  of  poii^oises  is  termed  a  shoal. 
He  was  told  that  a  host  of  oxen  is  termed  a  herd,  and  a  herd  of 


Chap.  XX.]  SOLECISMS.  389 

children  is  called  a  troop,  and  a  troop  of  partridges  is  termed  a 
covey,  and  a  covey  of  beauty  is  called  a  galaxy,  and  a  galaxy  of 
ruffians  is  called  a  horde,  aud  a  horde  of  rubbish  is  called  a  heap, 
and  a  heap  of  bullocks  is  called  a  drove,  and  a  drove  of  blackguards 
is  called  a  mob,  and  a  mob  of  wliales  is  called  a  school,  and  a 
school  of  worship  is  called  a  congregation,  and  a  congregation  of 
engineers  is  called  a  corps,  and  a  corps  of  robbei*s  is  called  a  band, 
and  a  band  of  locusts  is  called  a  crowd,  and  a  crowd  of  gentlefolks 
is  called  the  Hite.  The  last  word  being  French,  the  scholar  under- 
stood it  and  asked  no  more.     (Compare  page  li.) 

iii.  Grammatical  Construction  should  have 
been  learned  in  previous  text-books,  and  we  can  allude 
here  only  to  those  errors  so  frequent  that  they  need  espe- 
cial avoidance.  A  violation  of  propriety  of  this  kind  is 
called  a  solecism. 

{a.)  In  Gender.— A  common  and  deplorable  affecta- 
tion in  speech  has  been  thus  ridiculed : 

"  So  you  have  finished  your  studies  at  the  seminary  ?  I  was 
much  pleased  with  the  closing  exercises.  The  author  of  that 
poem — Miss  Wait,  I  think  you  called  her — bids  fair  to  become 
known  as  a  poet." 

**  Wo  think  the  authoress  will  become  celebrated  as  a  poetess," 
remarked  the  young  lady  pertly,  with  a  marked  emphasis  on  two 
wonls  of  the  sentence. 

♦'Oh!— ah!"  replied  the  old  gentleman,  looking  thoughtfully 
over  his  H{)cctacle8  at  the  young  lady.  "  I  hear  her  sister  was  quite 
an  actress,  and  under  Miss  Hosmer's  instructions  will  undoubtedly 
become  quite  a  sculptress." 

The  young  lady  appeared  irritated. 

"  The  seminary,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  with  impertur- 
bable gravity,  "  is  fortunate  in  having  an  efficient  board  of  mana- 
gereesee.  From  the  prcHidenteas  down  to  the  humblest  teacheress, 
unusual  talent  is  shown.  There  is  Miss  Harper,  who,  as  a  chemisi- 
resa,  is  unequalled,  and  Mrs.  Knowles  has  already  a  reputation  as 
an  astronomeress.  And  in  the  department  of  mode  few  can  equal 
Miss  Kellogg  as  a  singeress." 


3i>0  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

The  young  lady  did  not  appear  to  like  the  chair  she  was  sitting 
on.     She  took  the  sofa  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  as  if  talking  to  himself, 
**  those  White  Sisters  are  very  talented.  Mary,  I  undei-stand,  has 
turned  her  attention  to  imnting  and  the  drama,  and  will  surely  bo- 
come  famous  as  a  {lainteress  and  even  as  a  lecturess." 

A  loud  slamming  of  the  door  caused  the  old  gentleman  to  look 
up  :  the  criticess  and  grammarianess  was  gone. 

Perhaps  it  was  one  of  her  fellow-studentesses  who  re- 
plied, when  asked  the  gender  of  "  academy,"  that  she  sup- 
posed that  depended  upon  whether  it  was  a  mule  or  a 
female  academy. 

The  following,  from  tlie  appendix  to  Mark  Twain's 
"  The  Tramp  Abroad,"  illustrates  some  of  the  difficulties 
of  the  German  language  which  English  students  escape  : 

It  is  a  bleak  day.  Hear  the  rain,  how  he  iK)urs,  and  the  hail, 
how  he  rattles  ;  and  see  the  snow,  how  he  drifts  along  ;  and  oh, 
the  mud,  how  deep  he  is !  Ah !  the  poor  fishwife,  it  is  stuck  fast 
in  the  mire ;  it  has  dropped  its  basket  of  fishes  ;  and  its  hands  have 
been  cut  by  the  scales  as  it  seized  some  of  the  falling  creatures, 
and  one  scale  has  even  got  into  its  eye,  and  it  cannot  get  her  out. 
It  opens  her  mouth  to  cry  for  help ;  but  if  any  sound  comes  out  of 
him,  alas,  he  is  drowned  by  the  raging  of  the  storm  !  And  now  a 
tom-cat  has  got  one  of  the  fishes,  and  she  will  surely  escape  with  him. 
No  ;  she  bites  ofi"  a  fin,  she  holds  it  in  her  mouth — she  will  swal- 
low her  ?  No ;  the  fishwife's  brave  mother-dog  deserts  his  jrappies 
and  rescues  the  fin,  when  he  eats  himself  as  his  reward  !  Oh,  hor- 
ror, the  lightning  has  stnick  the  fish-basket !  He  sets  him  on 
fire.  See  the  flame,  how  she  licks  the  doomed  utensil  with  her 
angry  tongue !  Now  she  attacks  the  fishwife's  foot — she  bums 
him  up,  all  but  the  big  toe,  and  even  she  is  partly  consumed  ;  and 
still  she  spreads,  still  she  waves  her  fiery  tongues  !  She  attacks 
the  fishwife's  leg  and  destroys  it ;  she  attacks  its  poor  worn  gar- 
ment and  destroys  her  also ;  she  attacks  its  body  and  consumes 
him ;  she  wreathes  herself  about  its  heart  and  it  is  consumed ; 
next  about  its  breast,  and  in  a  moment  she  is  a  cinder  ;  now  she 


Chap.  XX.]  SOLECISMS.  391 

reaches  its  neck — he  goes  ;  now  its  chin — it  goes  ;  now  its  nose — 
she  goes.  In  another  moment,  excei)t  help  come,  the  fishwife  will 
be  no  more !  Time  presses — is  there  none  to  succor  or  save  ? 
Yes!  Joy,  joy!  With  flying  feet  the  she-Englishwoman  comes! 
But,  alas,  the  generous  she-female  is  too  late !  Where  now  is  the 
fated  fishwife  ?  It  has  ceased  from  its  suffering  ;  it  has  gone  to  a 
better  land  ;  all  that  is  left  of  it  for  its  loved  ones  to  lament  over 
is  this  poor  smouldering  ash-heap.  Ah,  woful,  woful  ash-heap  I 
Let  us  take  him  up  tenderly,  reverently,  upon  the  lowly  shovel, 
and  bear  him  to  his  long  rest,  with  the  prayer  that  when  he  rises 
again  it  will  be  in  a  realm  where  he  will  have  one  good  square  re- 
s(X)nsible  sex,  and  have  it  all  to  himself,  instead  of  having  a  mangy 
lot  of  assorted  sexes  scattered  all  over  him  in  spots. 

{b)  In  Case  the  commonest  errors  are  shown  in  the 
following  instances : 

He  was  by  nature  less  ready  than  her. — Tbollope. 

As  mad  as  them. — Bolinobboke. 

I  esteem  you  more  than  [I  do]  they. 

I  esteem  you  more  than  them  [do]. 

Do  you  believe  your  affirming  they  are  not  married  will  bring 
both  him  and  I  to  give  up  the  lady  ? — Vanbruoh. 

Why  should  I  be  told  to  serve  Him,  if  I  do  not  know  whom  it  is 
I  serve  ? — Flobence  Niohtinoale. 

You  can  keep  this  letter  and  show  it  to  whoever  you  like. — 
H.  T.  Buckle. 

These  men,  no  matter  trho  spoke  or  whom  was  addressed. — 
DioKSira 

And  now  my  clammatm ;  ye  remaining  few 
That  number  not  the  half  of  thote  we  knew, 
Ye  againat  whose  familiar  name*  not  yet 
The  fatal  aaterink  of  death  is  Mt, 
Te  I  Mlnte.— LoNorsLLOw. 

Thackeray,  having  been  requested  to  write  in  a  Iady*8  album, 
found  on  scanning  its  contents  the  subjoined  lines : 

Mont  Blano  la  the  monarch  of  moantaina— 

They  crowned  him  long  ago ; 
Bat  wko  they  got  to  pat  it  on 

Nubudv  itotMiui  u>  know. — AuutBT  I 


392  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

Under  these  Thackenj  speedily  wrote  the  following  : 


I  know  thftt  Albert  wroCa  in  •  htirry  ; 

To  criticiw  I  acHrce  prmtune ; 
Bat  7«t  meihinks  that  Lindley  Murray 

of  who  had  written  w/nmi.—W.  M.  Tbackebat. 


An  Amherst  professor  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  room  whcrn 
Btiulents  were  carousing  late  at  night.  "  Who  in  there  ?  "  asked 
one  of  the  students.  '*  It  is  me."  "  Well,  who  is  *  me '  ?  *'  "  Pro- 
fessor   .*'     *•  Oh,  go  away  !  you  can't  fool  us  that  way  :  Pro- 

leasor would  say  •  It  is  I !' "    And  Professor went  away. 

(c)  In  Number^  Rushton's  rules  cannot  be  bet- 
tered : 

1.  When  the  two  or  more  nouns  in  the  singular  mean  different 
things,  or  represent  distinct  ideas,  put  the  verb  in  the  plural. 

2.  But  when  the  two  nouns  mean  the  same  thing,  or  very  nearly 
the  same,  strike  out  one  of  them,  put  the  verb  in  the  singular,  and 
learn  to  avoid  using  two  words  where  one  is  enough. 

Thus  the  following  sentences  should  be  corrected : 

The  reference  and  construction  of  the  concluding  words  in  the 
next  quotation  is  very  indefinite. — Cimpbell. 

And  it  will  in  general  be  found  that  the  use  and  signification  of 
the  interjections  employed  in  any  language  furnishes  a  tolerable 
key  to  the  character  of  the  people  who  speak  it. — Maksh. 

Nevertheless  a  clear  objective  conception  und  comprehension  of 
the  general  principles  of  syntax  is  very  desirable. — Mabsh. 

The  zeal  of  the  seraphim  breaks  forth  in  a  becoming  warmth  of 
sentiments  and  expressions,  as  the  character  which  is  given  us  of 
him  denotes  that  generous  scorn  and  intrepidity  which  attends 
heroic  virtue. — Spectator. 

Pei*sonal  refinement,  extending  to  finish,  care,  and  precision, 
and  a  certain  deliberation  and  thought  in  relation  to  the  details  of 
the  manner  of  liWng,  gives  a  personal  dignity  which  is  absent  in 
the  usual  rush  and  tear  of  modern  life.  IVIr.  Ruskin  expatiates 
somewhere  on  the  vulgarity  of  being  in  a  huriy,  and  assuredly 
nothing  that  is  worth  doing  is  the  better  done  for  being  unaccom- 
panied by  the  personal  dignity  which  results  from  such  refinement 
of  habit.— Pa^  Mall  Gazette. 


Chap.  XX.  1  SOLECISMS :   NUMBER.  393 

A  common  blunder  is  to  put  a  plural  verb  after  a  singu- 
lar subject,  through  the  misleading  influence  of  attributes 
of  the  subject  intervening.     Thus  : 

A  great  part  of  tho  diflferences  with  respect  to  the  language  of 
the  educated  classes  in  the  United  States  and  in  England  grow 
out  of  the  different  circumstances  and  employments  of  the  people 
of  the  two  countries. —  IFwceste/*'*  Dictionary. 

Find  an  illustration  on  page  79. 

As  to  expressions  like  "  Five  dollars  was  paid,"  or 
"  Five  dollars  were  paid,"  usage  is  divided.  The  general 
rule  is  of  course  that  the  verb  is  to  be  singular  or  to  be 
plural  according  as  the  subject  is  in  idea  (not  necessarily 
in  form)  singular  or  plural.  But  in  the  application  of  this 
mle  some  writers  seem  to  have  as  indistinct  ideas  of  what 
the  plural  miinber  is  as  the  young  lady  had  who  gave  for 
the  plural  of  "  forget-me-not " — "  forget-us-not,"  and  who 
"  mentioned  six  animals  of  the  polar  regions  "  by  naming 
"  three  polar  bears,  and  three  seals." 

Thus,  Worcester's  Dictionaiy  says  on  page  1 : 

A  ooDitiderable  number  of  these  proTinciaiinins  are  to  be  found,  eta 

While  two  pages  later  we  find  : 

There  in  a  oonniderable  number  of  words. 

The  New  York  Tinbune  lately  has  obstinately  adhered  to  the 
opinion  that  sentences  like  the  following  should  have  their  verbs 
in  the  singular  number  :  ••  The  usual  number  of  applicants  for  ad- 
mission to  the  freshman  class  was  examined  in  June."  And  here 
is  the  London  Academy  sanctioning  the  same  silly  notion  :  '•  An 
innumemblc  multitude  of  small  errors  disfigures  his  pages."  These 
editors  will  tell  us  that  "  number  "  and  "multitude"  being  collec- 
tive nouns  but  singular  as  reganls  form  should  be  followed  by  sin- 
gular verbs.  But  any  Second-Reatler  scholar  could  toll  them  that 
the  real  subjects  of  the  sentences  are  "applicants"  and  "errors," 
both  plural  notms.  If  we  say  a  "  number  of  applicants  tros,"  etc., 
we  must  also  say  "a  i>air  of  birds  is  singing  to  e&ch  other,"  "a 
couple  of  deaths  was  reported,"  and  "  a  score  of  persons  is  to  take 


394  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

part  in  the  semces."  It  need  not  be  diflScult  to  determine  what 
is  the  apparent  and  what  the  real  subject  of  a  verb  if  one  will  trust 
common-sense.— 3^.  C.  Advocate. 

It  is  probable  that  not  one  in  ten  of  the  English  plays  written  be- 
fore the  time  of  Shakspere  have  escaped  destruction.  —  R.  G.Whtte. 

As  any  of  these  three  qualifications  are  most  conspicuous  aud 
prevailing.  —Addison. 

Ignorance  or  dulness  have,  indeed,  no  jxjwer  of  affording  de- 
light ;  but  they  never  give  disgust,  except  when  they  assume  the 
dignity  of  knowledge,  or  ajie  the  sprightliness  of  wit. — Rambler. 

I  doubt  if  more  than  one  of  these  deserve  acceptation. — Hall. 

To  connect  both  a  singular  and  a  plural  verb  with  the 
same  subject  is  usually  inexcusable. 

We  must  still  dread  that  extraordinary  facility  to  which  human 
nature  is  so  prone,  as  sometimes  to  laugh  at  what  at  another  time 
they  would  shed  tears. — Colkridoe. 

Pleasure,  or  pain,  which  seizes  us  unprepared  and  by  surprise, 
have  a  double  force,  and  are  both  more  capable  of  subduing  the 
mind,  than  when  they  come  upon  us  looking  for  them,  and  pre- 
pared to  receive  them. — Fieldino. 

Constructions  should  be  avoided  that  use^the  same  word 
first  collectively  and  then  distributively ;  as,  The  Legisla- 
ture, who  were  incorruptible  men,  was  above  influence. 

You  was  is  among  the  most  ofiF^nsive  of  solecisms. 

In  conversation  you  will  x)erhaps  ten  times  oftener  hear  i>eople 
say,  "There's  the  books  you  wanted,"  than  ** These  are  the 
books —  ;"  and  "You  was  present,"  when  a  single  person  is  ad- 
dressed, than  "You  were  present."  Yet  good  use  is  always  con- 
sidered as  declaring  solely  for  the  last  mode  of  expression  in  both 
cases. — Campbell. 

In  w^ritings  of  the  last  century,  "  you  was  "  is  occasion- 
ally met  with. 

You  was  pushed  to  the  utmost  by  your  creditors. — Blair,  ii.  108. 
When  you  was  most  in  earnest. — Id.,  ii.  133. 
Sir,  was  you  ever  iu  Muscovy  ? — Vanbruqh. 


Chap.  XX]  SOLECISMS :   MOOD.  395 

Impersonal  Verbs. — When  a  verb  is  used  imper- 
sonally it  ought  undoubtedly  to  be  in  the  singular  number, 
whether  the  neuter  pronoun  be  expressed  or  understood, 
aud  when  no  nominative  in  the  sentence  can  be  regularly 
construed  with  the  verb,  it  ought  to  be  considered  as  im- 
personal. For  this  reason  analogy  as  well  as  usage  favor 
this  mode  of  expression,  "The  conditions  of  the  agreement 
were  mfoUows^''  and  not  as  follow. — Campbell. 

{d)  \Ti  Moody  the  principal  danger  is  the  neglect  of 
the  subjunctive.  There  are  those  who  would  do  away 
with  this  distinction  of  thought,  but  it  cannot  be  spared 
by  those  who  would  be  masters  of  exact  expression. 

You  are  speaking  to  me  of  a  man  of  whom  I  am  ix)i*sonally  ig- 
norant, and  I  say  :  "  If  he  is  such  a  man  as  you  represent  him,  he 
will  do  thus  and  so."  As  I  do  not  know  the  man,  there  must  be 
in  my  statement  some  degree  of  contingency — which  is  expressed 
by  "if."  But  by  coupling  "if"  with  the  declamtive  [indicative], 
I  imply  my  willingness  to  accept  your  testimony  conceniing  the 
man.  My  thought,  fully  expressed,  is  :  "If  (I,  myself,  know  noth- 
ing about  him),  but  if  he  is  (as,  on  your  testimony,  I  am  willing  to 
admit)  such  a  man  as  you  represent  him,  he  will  do  thus  aud  so." 
To  say  :  "If  he  be  such  a  man  as  you  represent  him,"  would  imply 
that  I  doubted  either  your  veiucity  or  your  judgment.  My  thought, 
expanded,  would  be,  "  If  he  be  such  a  man  as  you  represent  him 
(and  on  that  point,  not^-ithstandiug  your  testimony,  I  have  no 
opinion  to  express)  he  will  do  thus  and  so." 

The  tendency  to  obliterate  the  distinction  that  has  been  indi- 
cated, is  veiy  strong  at  the  present  day  ;  but  it  ought  to  be  pre- 
served, and  must — in  order  to  the  intelligent  study  of  Englisli 
literature— be  understood.— Oilmore. 

The  subjunctive  form  is,  however,  to  be  avoided  except 
where  the  coudition  is  assumed  to  be  doubtful.    Thus : 

Surely  it  would  be  desirable  that  some  i^erson  who  knew  Sir 
Walter     .     .     .     should  be  cliarged  with  this  article. — Macaulay. 


396  PROPRIETY.  [Part  IV. 

It  would  he  a  good  thing,  but  it  u  desirable. 

If  ever  man's  humor  were  [was]  useful  to  instruct  as  well  as  de- 
light, it  was  that  of  Michael  Angelo  Titmai-sh. — G.  B.  Smith. 

It  would  doubtless  have  exhibited  itself  quietly  enough  if  it 
were  [had  been]  absolutely  meditated. — Justin  McCarthy. 

{e)  In  Tense,  a  common  fault  is  the  use  of  the  past 
for  the  perfect ;  as, 

Of  antiquated  or  obsolete  words,  none  will  be  inserted  but  such 
as  are  to  be  found  in  authors  who  wrote  since  the  accession  of 
Elizabeth,  from  which  we  date  the  golden  age  of  our  language. — 
Johnson. 

Find  the  past  used  for  the  pluperfect  on  page  49. 

Or  in  the  use  of  the  perfect  for  the  past ;  as, 

In  yesterday's  paper  we  have  shown. — Addison. 

Another,  not  nnfrequently  an  affectation  on  the  part  of 
young  writers  wlio  esteem  an  expression  elegant  in  piopor 
tion  to  the  number  of  syllables  it  contains,  is  the  use  of 
the  perfect  infinitive  for  the  present. 

The  compound  past  infinitive  also,  formerly  very  frequent,  is  al- 
most disused.  Lord  Beruers  says  :  should  have  aided  to  hara  de- 
stroyed^ had  made  haste  to  have  entered^  and  the  like,  and  this  was 
common  in  colloquial  usage  until  a  very  recent  period.  In  cases 
of  this  sort,  where  the  relations  of  time  are  clearly  expressed  T>y 
the  first  auxiliary,  it  is  evident  that  nothing  is  gained  by  employ- 
ing a  second  auxiliary  to  fix  more  precisely  the  categoiy  of  tlie  in- 
finitive, but  where  the  simple  inflected  past  tense  preoodei  the 
infinitive,  there  is  sometimes  ground  for  the  employment  of  an  aux- 
iliary with  the  latter.  I  intended  to  go,  and  I  intended  to  Jiarer/ime, 
do  not  necessarily  express  the  same  thing,  but  the  latter  fonu  is 
not  likely  long  to  resist  the  present  inclination  to  make  the  infin- 
itive strictly  aoristic,  and  such  forms  as  I  had  intended  to  go  will 
supersede  the  past  tense  of  the  latter  mood. — Marsh. 

Campbell  thus  illustrates  the  distinction  : 


Chap.  XX.]  SOLECISMS  :   TENSE.  397 

"  I  commanded  him  not  to  do  it,  and  he  ought  not  to  have 
done  it.** 

So  one  may  say,  "  I  should  have  liked  to  read  the  story 
you  had,  but  1  should  like  to  have  read  through  every  page 
of  Webster's  Dictionary." 

If  the  traveller  is  in  haste,  and  wants  rather  to  have  seen  the 
country  and  the  people  than  to  see  them,  let  him  take  the  dili- 
gence.—John  Labouche. 

It  was  the  elder  Sheridan,  was  it  not,  who  asked  his  son  with 
disgust  why  he  insisted  uiK)n  going  down  into  a  coal  mine  ?  "  To 
say  I  have  been  there,"  replied  the  junior.  "  Then  why  the  dick- 
ens don't  you  say  you  have  been  there,  and  save  the  soot  ?  " 

There  are  many  that  would  iike  to  have  descended  a  ooal-shaft, 
who  would  not  have  liked  to  descend. 

Correct  the  following  sentences  : 

I  intended  to  have  insisted  on  this  sympathy  at  greater  length. 
— Buskin. 

I  liad  hoped  never  to  have  seen  the  statues  again  when  I  missed 
them  on  the  bridge. — Mac  aula  Y. 

When  I  inserted  the  strijies  and  curves,  her  delight  was  such 
that  I  greatly  feared  she  would  have  emhraced  me. — C.  W.  Dilke. 

Universal  truths,  or  permanent  arrangements,  are  ex- 
pressed in  the  present  tense  ;  as,  lie  testiiied  that  in  that 
country  the  snow  is  red. 

The  chief  occasion  of  mistake  on  this  point  is  when  a  universal 
truth  is  stated  as  maintained  or  denied  by  some  one  in  the  past, 
e.g.^  "  He  denied  tliat  electricity  and  magnetism  were  (are)  the 
same  agents." — Hodgson. 

The  proprietor  of  a  summer  resort,  wlio  kept  in  the 
newspapers  a  standing  advertisement,  headed,  "  There  ai-e 
no  mosquitoes  at  this  hotel ! "  defended  himself,  when 
swanns  of  them  were  pointed  out,  by  declaring  that  the 
cai-d  was  written  in  the  spring,  when  there  wasn't  a  mos- 
quito to  be  seen. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Propriety. 

II.  Authorized  definitions,  p.  379. 

Forming  detinitious,  p.  880.  ^ 

Propriety  violated  by  using. 

a.  Inaccurate  words,  p.  381. 

Classical  words,  p.  383. 
Short  words  are  best.  p.  384. 
Johnsonese,  p.  385. 
Modern  taste,  p.  386. 

b.  Inappropriate  words,  p.  388. 

in.  Crammaticai  construction,  p  389. 

a.  Errors  in  gender,  p.  389. 

b.  Errors  in  case,  p.  391. 

c.  Errors  in  number,  p.  392. 

You  was,  p.  394. 
Impersonal  verbs,  p.  395. 

d.  Errors  in  mood,  p.  395. 
3.  Errors  in  tense,  p.  396. 


CHAPTER  XXL 

PRECISION. 

Tbe  calling  two  or  more  different  thingt  by  one  and  the  same  tiamt  (aque  voeare) 
|h«'nce  tqiiivocation]  is  the  sonrce  of  almost  all  error  in  human  di8cour«o.  He  who 
u  ixhcs  to  t'lrow  dust  in  the  eyes  ot  an  opponent,  to  hinder  his  arrivinjf  at  the  real  facta 
.r  H  CH*o,  will  often  have  recourHC  to  this  aitittce,  and  thus  to  equivomi-'  mh.i  pnuijeitca- 
tion  have  attainetl  their  preocnt  sectwidnry  meaning.— Tbbn oh. 

Precision  requires  the  exact  expression  of  the 
tliought  to  he  conveyed.  It  demands  attention  (1)  to  tlie 
Words  employed,  and  (2)  to  tlie  Construction,  tliat  in 
stating  the  thought  the  sentence  may  tell  the  truth,  the 
whole  truth   and  nothing  hut  the  truth. 

(I)  Words  may  lack  pi-ecision  (a)  through  the  eon- 
founding  of  synonyms,  {h)  through  the  use  of  Equivocal 
Words,  or  (r)  of  (icncral  Words. 

(a)  Synonyms  are  by  etymology  words  that  liavi- 
precisely  the  same  signitication.  The  Englisli  language 
lias  very  few  such,  hefjin  and  cmmnence  being  perhaps  as 
near  approximations  as  can  be  found.  But  the  term  is 
exten«led  to  include  words  that  have  very  nearly  the  same 
meaning,  but  express  shades  of  difference  in  signitication. 

To  form  an  idea  of  the  extent  to  which  our  language  has  been 
deqrnonymized,  one  has  only  to  compare  together  our  word-s  de> 
rived  mediately  or  immedintoly  from  the  Latin,  and  those  which 
they  at  fii-st  roprpsonted.  Of  th^o  paii-H  there  arc  hundreds  upon 
hundreds  ;  and  yrl  of  not  a  sinj?l<»  pair  ait>  the  members  strictly 
identical  in  impoi-t.     Take  for  evample  ncid  and  iour^  cordiul  and 


400  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

hearty^  crime  and  guilty  diviur  and  'jod/i/ce,  juvenile  and  youthful, 
lucid  and  bright^  miserabh-  and  unhajnn/,  ponderous  and  weighty, 
portion  and  share,  quantity  and  tfea/,  sKjficient  and  enou(/h.  Where, 
moreover,  two  words,  one  of  which  is  a  material  corruption  of  the 
other,  are  taken  from  a  foreign  source,  we  find  them  very  far  from 
being  synonyms.  Cure  and  care,  engine  and  gin,  paralysis  and 
palsy,  penitence  axid  penance^  phantasy  and  fancy,  piety  and  pity,  are 
instances  in  point. — Hall. 

I  low  important  these  fine  distinctions  are  is  shown  on 
aliiiuit  every  page  of  standard  authors.  Take  the  follow- 
ing instances  from  Coleridge : 

's  face  is  almost  the  only  exception  I  know  to  tlic  observa- 
tion that  something  feminine — not  effeminate,  mind,  is  discovera- 
ble in  the  countenances  of  all  men  of  genius. —  Works,  vi.  384. 

Dr.  Ilennat;)'  saitl  to  Luth.r,  *'  Sir,  when  you  say  tliat  the  Holy  Spirit  is  the  certainty 
in  the  word  towards  Go^l,  that  is,  that  a  man  is  certain  of  hJK  own  mind  and  opinion  ; 
then  it  must  needs  follow  that  all  sects  have  the  Holy  Ghost,  for  they  will  needs  be  most 
certain  of  their  doctrine  and  religion."— LuMer'*  Table  Talk. 

Luther  might  have  answered,  "  Positive,  you  mean,  not  ct  itaiu." 
—V.  278. 

I  am  by  the  law  of  my  nature  a  reasoner.  A  person  who  should 
suppose  I  meant  by  that  word  an  arguer  would  not  only  not  un- 
derstand me,  but  would  understand  the  contraiy  of  my  meaning. 
I  can  take  no  interest  whatever  in  hearing  or  saying  anything 
merely  as  a  fact — merely  as  having  happened.  It  must  refer  to 
something  within  me  before  I  can  regard  it  with  any  curiosity  or 
care.  My  mind  is  always  energio— I  don't  mean  energetic  ;  I  re- 
quire in  every  tiling  what  for  lack  of  another  word  I  may  call^ro- 
priety — that  is,  a  reason  why  the  thing  is  at  all,  and  why  it  is  there 
or  then  mther  than  elsewhere  or  at  another  time. — \'i.  503. 

While  Purity  demands  that  a  word  be  in  itself  good 
English,  and  Propriety  demands  that  it  be  used  in  one  of 
the  significations  belonging  to  it,  Precision  still  further 
demands  that  tliis  signification  exactly  express  the  thought 
to  be  conveyed.  Faults  in  Purity  and  in  Propriety  can 
be  discerned  and  pronounced  upon  by  the  reader.     Faults 


Chap.  XXI.]  ROGET'S  THES.VURUS.  401 

in  Precision  must  often  be  left  to  the  detection  of  the 
writer  liiniself,  who  should  know  better  than  another  ex- 
actly what  he  wants  to  express. 

An  extensive  vocabulary  is  one  of  the  requisites 
to  precision  (see  pages  xxvi,  347).  Only  by  letting  all  the 
words  allied  in  meaning  pass  in  review  before  the  mind, 
can  one  be  certain  that  the  exact  word  has  been  selected. 

For  this  purpose  there  is  one  aid  so  far  superior  to  all  others 
tliat  its  use  sliould  be  understood  even  by  young  writers.  This  is 
Roget's  •*  Thesaums  of  English  Words." 

To  illiLstrate  its  comprehensiveness  and  the  manner  of  its  use, 
suppose  the  thought  in  my  mind  is,  "  Miss  Abbott's  dress  looks 
genteel,"  but  that  I  have  just  learned  this  adjective  is  no  longer 
used  in  a  commendatoiy  sense  (see  page  373),  and  that  I  wish  to 
replace  it  by  a  synonym. 

Turning  in  the  index  to  the  word  "genteel,"  I  find  the  num- 
bers '•  852,  875,'  indicating  the  paragraphs  that  include  this  word. 
Turning  to  852,  I  find  this  list : 

Fashion,  rtylt*,  ino«lc,  voioie. 

Manners,  bn*e<tinfr,  puliloneiw,  i^ood  behavior,  gentility,  deooram,  punctilio,  form, 
formality,  etiqut-tte,  ciiHtuin.  <lemoanor,  air,  port,  carriage,  presence. 

Show,  equipage,  etc.,  «<«•  S^8. 

The  world,  the  faHhionnbe  world,  high  life,  town,  coart,  gentility,  civiliiation,  ciril- 
tied  life,  M«  Nobility,  876. 

Verb*.— To  be  faiihU>nabk*.  etc. 

A4f^eU9eM.  — Fa«hional>lo,  in  fotthion,  in  vof^ie,  modish,  RtylJBh,  courtly,  genteel,  well- 
tired,   well-behaved,   p>>li^hc<l,   Rentlemunly,   liwly-like,    well  8|)uken,    civil,    preeentable, 
tlioronrh-lired.  uiicnilNiiTH><M^l. 
I. — Fanhionably,  in  fashion,  ctr. 


None  of  tliese  words  quite  replace  my  '*  genteel,"  so  I  turn  to 
875.    Here  I  find : 

Nobility,  noble***,  arl«roer*oy,  peerag*,  gentry,  genliUty,  qnality,  rank,  Mood,  birtb, 
faahUmable  world,  eta    fiBt.  diaUnctlon,  etc. 

A.  penonage.  man  of  dtatlnction.  rank,  etc;  a  nobleman,  lord,  peer,  grand**,  don, 
g*nU*wan,  aqnire,  patrici*n,  kmlling. 

Prince,  dnke,  marqnia,  enrl,  viaooant,  baron,  baronet,  knight,  oonnt,  eaqaire,  de.. 
Me  746. 

Verb*.— To  lie  nobl*.  tbe. 

J4NcMM«.— Nobt*.  csaUad,  princely,  of  rank,  titled,  pfrkitan.  ariatoonitic,  high- 
born, well-born,  genteal,  gentlemanly,  fuhiunable,  etc..  H&i. 


402  PRECISION.  [Part  IV 

No  word  here  quite  meets  the  want,  so  I  turn  to  the  cross  ref- 
erences.    Under  882  I  find : 

OKtcntation,  display,  nhow,  flourish,  parade,  p(mip,  Ktate,  iwlemnity,  pageantry,  daHh, 
glitter,  Ktrut,  ma^'iiiflcrnoc.  poinixwity,  pretoDidons,  showing  off. 

raffeant,  spectacle,  pn>oeraiun,  turn  out,  gala,  regatta. 

Ceremony,  curemunial,  niumnivry,  Hoicmn  mockery  ;  formality,  form,  etiquette,  punc 
tillo,  piiurtiliousneKs.  frip|)ery,  itnirl  dresM,  etc. 

VerlM.— To  be  OKtentationis  etc.;  to  dlnplay,  exhibit,  show  oft,  come  forwanl,  put 
one's  Hctf  forward,  flaunt,  emblazon,  glitter ;  make  or  cut  a  figure,  dash,  to  figure. 

To  observe  or  stand  on  ceremony,  etiquette,  etc 

^(Oe-'^tew.— OHtcnUtiou^  showy,  gaudy,  garish,  dashing,  flaunting,  glittering,  pomp- 
ons, snmptuouR,  theatrical. 

Pompous,  solemn,  stately,  high-bounding,  formal,  stiff,  ceremonious,  punctilious. 

Still  I  am  unsatisfied,  so  I  turn  to  745.  This  I  find  to  be,  as  I 
might  have  exi^ected,  a  list  of  titles,  useless  for  this  search. 

Under  852  the  words  priven  remind  me  of  "  natty,*'  a  favorite 
with  Thackeray.  That  will  hardly  answer  my  pnqwse,  as  it  im- 
plies an  attem])t  at  effect,  like  "spruce."  I  look  in  the  index  for 
"  natty,"  but  do  not  find  it,  so  I  turn  to  the  allied  adjective 
"spinice."  This  has  in  the  index  two  references:  "neat,  652; 
beautiful,  845."  I  find  that  the  words  under  652  have  reference 
only  to  the  condition  of  an  article,  without  reference  to  its  ma- 
terial or  form  ;  so  none  of  them  will  answer.  Under  845  I  find 
these  adjectives : 

Bcautifii',  handsonic,  fine,  pretty,  lovely,  graceful,  eleizant,  delicate,  refined,  fair, 
comely,  w-emly,  well-favonnl,  proixir,  shapely,  well-maile,  well-formed,  well-propor- 
tionetl,  fsymmetrical,  Itccoming,  goodly,  neat,  spruce,  sleek,  bright-eyed,  attractive, 
curious. 

Blooming,  brilliant,  shining,  beaming,  resplendent,  dazzling,  gorgeous,  superb,  nr.ag- 
nificent,  Bublime. 

Picturesque,  arti>tical. 

I>as8able,  not  amiss,  undeformed,  undefacd,  spotless,  unspotted. 

Of  these  words  *'  elegant"  is  so  much  nearer  my  meaning  than 
the  others  that  I  look  for  it  in  the  index.  I  find  that  besides  the 
list  just  quoted,  it  is  found  under  "  tasteful,  850 ;  style,  578." 
Turning  firat  to  the  latter,  I  have  : 

Elegance,  grace,  ease,  nature,  concinnity,  readiness,  e'lphony. 

Adjectives.— Wesant,  jwlished,  classical,  Attic,  Ci  eroniau.  graceful,  easy,  natural, 
unlabored,  chaste,  pure,  flowing,  mellifluous,  enphoniou-^,  rhyLhmical. 

These  do  not  help  me,  so  I  turn  to  850.    The  adjectives  here  are  : 

In  good  taste,  tasty  (tasteful),  unaffected,  pure,  chaste,  cla-ssiail,  lefir.eil,  elegaut, 
aesthetic. 


Chap.  XXI.  ]  SYNONYMS.  4^03 

I  am  beginning  to  think  I  shall  be  obliged  to  use  '*  elegant," 
but  first  I  look  up  the  words  allied  to  two  or  three  others  of  the 
adjectives  already  found  that  seem  nearest  to  what  I  want. 

Under  "  superb  "  I  tiud  in  the  index  only  845,  the  list  already 
quoted.  Under  "well-bred"  I  find  a  reference  to  "courteous, 
804;"  under  "fashionable,"  to  "customary,  G13 ;  "  and  I  look 
up  half  a  dozen  others,  only  to  find  that  all  hopeful  lists  liave 
been  alreatly  quoted.  Had  the  adjective  been  wanted  to  express  a 
judgment  less  ])08itive,  I  might  have  been  helped  by  the  fact  that 
besides  each  of  the  lists  of  words  quoted  was  found  on  each  page  a 
list  of  the  words  of  contrary  meaning.  Thus,  adjoining  the  last 
list,  850,  we  have  these  adjectives  : 

In  iMd  tnste,  valgar,  coatmo,  nnreflned,  groes,  heavj,  rade,  unpolished,  homespan, 
homcbml,  umxMith,  awkward,  ungraceful,  Hlovenly,  idattcrnly,  im|x>litc,  ill-mannered, 
uncivil,  ungentlcuinnly,  unladylike,  unfctnininc,  unaecuily,  unpresentable,  unkunipt,  un- 
cuntbed. 

Runtir.  IxMifiRh.  clowninh,  barbarous,  barbaric,  Gothic,  anclassical,  heathenish,  out- 
landish, untamed,  876. 

Obsolptc,  out  of  fn-ohion.  unfashionable,  antiquated,  old-fashioned,  gone  by. 

N'ewf.ingle«l.  <Mld,  fatitastic,  grote^pio,  nee  ridiculous  853,  Hcrio-coniic,  tragi-comic, 
affected,  mcrrtricion «,  extrnvo^rant,  monRtrouc,  shocking,  horrid,  revolting. 

Oaady,  tawdry,  bedizcne<l,  tncked  out. 

But  in  this  case  a  negative  form  like  **  not  ungraceful"  will  not 
express  my  thought,  so  I  am  forced  to  choose  among  the  words 
before  me.  On  the  whole,  if  I  must  employ  a  single  word,  I  de- 
cide that  **  elegant "  will  most  nearly  express  my  meaning ;  so  I 
write,  *•  Miss  Abbott's  dress  looks  elegant."  It  is  not  quite  what 
I  want  to  say,  but  it  is  as  near  to  my  thought  as  the  English  lan- 
guage permits  me  to  get.    (See  page  347. ) 

So  important  is  practice  in  finding  and  considering  syn- 
onyms, that  we  give  a  number  of  exercises  in  which  tlie 
pupil  is  to  replace  the  words  in  italics  by  others  that  ex- 
press the  meaning  as  well  or  better. 

Epeampie.—Tho  two  armies  stood  in  order  of  battle. 

Tlie  two  armies  stood  in  nrrm/  of  battle.  Courage  is  an  atlmir- 
ahli'  quality.  The  demand  is  steadily  incrmswrf.  Plants  nn^l  food 
as  well  as  animals.  Some  years  since  I  formt'tl  the  projtti  of  writ- 
ing a  history.     Tlu«  flios  that  I  had  obsfrrt-ii  wore  all  distinguished 


404  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

from  each  other  in  sJuqye  and  color.  Plants  are  the  habitatiotis  of 
insects.  The  victory  was  announced  by  a  jyeal  of  cantion.  The  re- 
flection of  the  moon  is  seen  in  the  placid  lake.  They  traversed  the 
lofty  mountains  that  surround  like  a  ramjHirt  the  beautiful  region 
of  Cashmere.  The  majority  of  mankind  earn  their  livelihood  by 
hard  ttork.  The  soldier  obeyed  the  command  of  his  officer  with 
alacrity.  When  the  evening  mi^  enveloped  the  plain,  a  troop  of 
wild  ducks  suddenly  settletl  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  con- 
fusion was  at  length  succeeded  by  profound  silence.  Birds  predict 
the  changes  of  weather.  Sea  birds  have  places  of  rendezrous,  where 
they  seetn  to  deliberate  on  the  of  airs  of  the  republic.  How  is  this 
city,  once  so  full  ofj^eoj^le,  now  so  solitary  ?  He  attained  a  high  po- 
sition by  industry  and  i)er8everance.  Books  afford  many  resources 
in  solitude.  It  can  be  demonstrated  that  the  earth  is  round.  The 
action  became  general  soon  after  it  began.  Manmd  labor  was  de- 
signed as  a  blessing.  The  sea- coast  displays  a  magnificent  prospect. 
The  army  was  animated  by  the  spirit  of  its  commander.  Man  is 
the  slave  of  habit.  The  sailor  encounters  many  perih.  The  citi- 
zens, under  their  gallant  governor,  made  an  admirable  defence. 
The  king  peremptorily  refused  the  request.  The  water  belonging 
to  our  globe  exists  in  various  states.  History  is  a  record  of  public 
events.  Charlemagne /ownffef/  various  seminaries  of  public  instruc- 
tion.    Some  ingenious  experiments  were  made. 

Mungo  Park.  — While  Mr.  Park  was  waiting  on  the  banks  of  the 
Niger  for  a  passage,  the  king  of  the  country  was  informed  that  a 
white  man  intended  to  visit  him.  On  this  intelligenxie,  a  messenger 
was  instantly  despatched  to  tell  the  stranger  that  his  majesty  could 
not  possibly  admit  him  to  his  presence  till  he  understood  the  cause 
of  his  arrival ;  and  also  to  loarn  him  not  to  cross  the  river  without 
the  I'oyal pei'mission.  The  message  was  accordingly  delivei'ed  by 
one  of  the  chief  natives,  who  advised  Mr.  Park  to  seek  a  lodging 
in  an  adjacent  village,  oxidi  promised  to  give  him  some  requisite  in- 
structions in  the  morning.  Mr.  Park  immediately  complied  with 
this  counsel ;  but  on  entering  the  village,  he  had  the  mortification  to 
find  every  door  closed  against  him.  He  was,  therefore,  obliged  to 
remain  all  the  day  without/oof/  beneath  the  shade  of  a  tree.  About 
sunset,  as  he  was  turning  his  horse  loose  to  graze,  and  expected  to 
pass  the  night  in  this  lonely  situation^  a  woman  returning  from  her 


Chap.  XXI.]  SYNONYMS.  405 

employment  in  the  fields  stopped  to  gcue  at  him  ;  and  observing  his 
d^ected  looks,  inquired  from  what  catise  they  proceeded.  Mr. 
Park  endeavored,  as  well  as  he  could,  to  make  known  his  destitute 
situation.  The  woman  immediately  took  up  his  saddle  and  bridle, 
and  desired  him  to  follow  her  to  her  residence,  where,  after  light- 
ing a  lamp,  she  presented  him  with  some  boiled  fish,  spread  a  mat 
for  him  to  lie  upon,  and  gave  him  permission  to  continue  under  her 
roof  till  morning.  Having  performed  this  beneficent  action,  she 
summoned  her  female  companions  to  their  spinning,  which  occupied 
the  chief  part  of  the  night,  while  their  labor  was  beguiled  by  a 
variety  of  songs. 

Gustavus  Vtisa. — This  hero,  who  rescued  his  country  from  a 
foreign  yoke,  was  allied  to  the  royal  family  of  Sweden.  On  the 
invasion  of  that  country  by  Christiern  II.  in  1518,  Gustavus  Vasa 
was  one  of  the  six  Jiostages  whom  he  took  to  Denmark,  and  failing 
in  detaching  him  from  his  allegiance  to  his  country,  he  gave  an 
order  for  his  death  ;  but  afterward  changed  it  to  imprisonment  in 
the  castle  of  Coi^nhagen.  Eric  Banner,  a  Danish  nobleman,  feel- 
ing compassion  for  the  sufferings  of  the  young  Swede,  obtained 
leave  to  take  him  to  a  fortress  in  Jutland,  of  which  he  was  the 
governor.  Here  Gustavus  passed  his  time  in  comparative  satis- 
faction, until  he  heard  of  the  accession  of  Christiern  II.  to  the 
Swedish  crown,  when  his  heart  burned  within  liim,  and  he  was 
reBolved  to  use  every  efort  to  recover  the  lost  liberties  of  his 
country.  Ho  escai>ed  to  Lubec,  but  soon  found  that  the  Danes 
were  in  quest  at  him,  which  obliged  him  to  assume  the  habit  and 
manners  of  a  peasant.  In  this  disguise  he  passed  through  all 
qnarters  of  their  army,  in  a  wagon  loaded  with  hay,  until  he 
reached  an  old  family  castle  at  Sudermania.  He  despntclted  letters 
hence  to  his  friends,  hoping  to  roi4se  them  to  an  attempt  for  the 
recovery  of  their  liberty  ;  but  meeting  with  little  success  among  the 
great,  he  next  tried  the  peasantry.  He  visited  their  villages  Ijy 
night,  harangued  them  at  their  festive  assemblies,  but  without  effect, 
as  they  uniformly  told  him  it  was  in  vain  for  them  to  attempt  to 
better  their  condition,  for  "  i)caKants  thoy  were,  and  ]>ea»<antA  they 
must  remain.**  Gnstavus  next  determined  to  try  the  miners  of 
Dalecarlia.  He  penetrated  the  monntains  of  that  remote  province, 
and  was  obliged  for  a  scanty  subsistence  to  enter  himself  as  a  com- 


406  PRECISION.  [Pakt  IV. 

mon  laborer  at  a  mine.  Here  be  worked  within  the  dark  caverns 
of  the  earth  :  but  the  fineness  of  his  linen  soon  led  some  of  his 
fellow-laborers  to  siiapect  that  he  was  more  than  what  he  seemed. 
By  the  adcice  of  a  friend,  at  whose  house  he  concealed  himself, 
Oustavus  rqyaired  to  Mora,  where  an  annual  feast  of  the  peasantry 
was  held.  There,  as  his  last  resource^  he  displayed  \*ith  so  much 
nature,  eloquence,  and  energy  the  miseries  of  his  countiy  and  the 
tyranny  of  Christiem,  that  the  assembly  instantly  determined  to 
take  up  arms,  and  adopted  him  as  their  leader.  While  their  hearts 
were  glowiny  ^vith  an  ardent  patriotism^  GustAVUS  led  them  against 
the  governor's  castle,  which  they  stormed^  and  took  or  destroyed 
the  whole  yannson.  Success  increased  his  forces  ;  multitudes  were 
eager  to  enlist  under  the  banner  of  the  conquering  hero,  Gustavus. 
At  the  head  of  his  little  army  he  overran  the  neighboring  prov- 
inces, defeated  the  Archbishop  of  IJpsal,  and  advanced  to  Stock- 
holm. Christiern,  who  hatl  in  vain  attempted  to  stop  the  progress 
of  Gustavus  by  the  threat  of  vuissacring  his  mother  and  sisters,  at 
length  put  the  dreadful  menace  into  execution.  The  cruel  deed 
animated  Gustavus  to  a  severer  revenge.  He  assembled  the  states 
of  Sweden  at  Wadstena,  where  he  was  unanimously  chosen  adminis- 
trator ;  and  after  a  variety  of  military  transactions,  he  laid  siege  to 
Stockholm.  Stockholm  surrendered,  aud  the  Danes  were  com- 
pletely expelled  from  Sweden. 

Columbus  on  the  New  World. — After  a  brief  interval,  the  sovereigns 
requested  of  Columbus  a  recital  of  his  adventures.  His  manner  was 
seriate  and  dignified,  but  warmed  by  the  glow  of  natural  enthusiasm. 
He  enumerated  the  several  islands  he  had  visited,  expatiated  on  the 
tempei*ate  character  of  the  climate,  and  the  cajyacity  of  the  soil  for 
every  variety  of  production,  appealing  to  the  samples  imported  by 
him  as  evidence  of  their  natural  prodmtiveness.  He  dwelt  more  at 
large  on  the  precious  metals  to  be  found  in  these  islands,  which  he 
inferred  less  from  the  specimens  actually  obtained  than  from  the 
unifoi-m  testimony  of  the  natives  to  their  abundance  in  the  une.rplored 
regions  of  the  interior.  Lastly,  he  pointed  out  the  wide  scope  af- 
forded to  Christian  zeid  in  the  iUuminalion  of  a  race  of  men  whose 
minds,  far  from  being  wedded  to  any  system  of  idolatry,  were  pre- 
pared by  their  extreme  simplicity  for  the  reception  of  pure  and  un- 
corrupted  doctrine.     The  last  considei'ation  touclied  Isabella's  heai-t 


C-HAP.  XXI.]  SYNONYMS.  407 

most  st'Hsihh/  ^-  and  the  whole  audience^  kindled  with  varions  emx)- 
(iims  by  the  speaker's  eloquence,  filled  up  the  perspective  with  the 
grrrtjf^tus  a)I(n'iug  of  their  own  fancies^  as  ambition,  or  avaiice,  or 
dt^rotiotidl  feeling  jrredomhiated  in  their  bosoms.  When  Columbus 
cetuittl,  the  king  and  queen,  together  with  all  jjresent,  prostrated 
themselves  on  their  knees  in  grateftd  thanksgivings,  while  the  sol- 
emn strains  of  the  Te  Deum  were  poured  forth  by  the  choir  of 
the  royal  chapel,  as  in  commemoration  of  some  glorious  victory. 

Alfred  and  the  Danes. — At  the  confinence  of  the  rivers  Paret  and 
Tone  there  were  about  two  acres  of  dryland,  surrounded  hj  swamps, 
which  afterward  became  celebrated  under  the  name  of  the  Prince's 
Island.  Here,  alone  and  in  disguise,  he  was  sheltered  in  the  cottage 
of  a  poor  cowherd,  who,  in  ignorance  of  his  real  dignity,  was  taught 
to  believe  him  some  fugitive  chief  whose  circumstances  required  a 
temixjrary  seclusion.  A  lively  picture  of  the  condition  to  which  he  was 
reduced  \a  preserved  in  the  well-known  anecdote,  which  he  himself 
was  cuxustomed  to  recite  in  his  hq^ier  hours,  of  the  chiding  he  pa- 
tiently endured  from  the  shrewish  wife  of  his  host  for  aUowing  her 
cakes  to  be  burned.  To  this  r>'treat  he  gradmUly  sitmmoned  a  few 
of  his  most /«///{/■///  retainers,  ft/rtijied  its  only  accessible  approacht 
and  began  to  make  successful  excursions  upon  straggling  parties  of 
the  enemy.  But  the  first  ray  of  hope  broke  from  another  quarter. 
AlK)ut  four  months  after  the  inrasion  by  Guthrum,  another  f/irmon 
of  his  countrymen,  landing  in  Devonshire  under  the  ferocious 
Ubba,  laid  siege  to  the  castle  of  Kenwyth,  into  which  the  brave 
Ealdorman  Odun  and  a  few  subordinate  chiefs  had  hastily  thrown 
themselves.  In  a  desperate  sally  the  garrison  succeeded  in  surpris- 
ing thn  camp  of  the  invaders,  and  slaying  Ubba  himself  ;  an  event 
which  stnick  such  terror  into  his  followers  that  they  left  their 
enchantfxl  standanl,  the  Raven  of  Woden,  in  the  hands  of  the  victors. 

Hetretit  of  Sir  John  Moore. — The  British  tn)aj>s,  under  Sir  John 
Moore,  were  now  athancing  from  Portugal  into  Spain  to  co-operitt9 
with  the  patriots.  In  the  course  of  his  mitrcJt,  the  British  general 
soon  disntrer*^!  how  fallacious  and  eaeaggerated  were  the  imftrcssions 
cntertainiil  in  England  respecting  the  condition  of  the  Sjianianls,  and 
their  ability  or  inclination  to  offer  an  effective  resistance  to  tlic  enemy. 
He  crnitinued  his  march,  however,  in  onler  to  crtmply,  as  far  as  pos- 
sible, with  the  expectations  of  the  ministrv,  and  the  urgent  representa- 


408  PRECISION.  [Pakt  IV. 

tions  made  to  him  ;  till  at  length,  having  learned  that  Madrid  had 
fallen,  and  that  Bonaparte  had  quitted  that  city  at  the  head  of  a  su- 
perior forcey  with  the  view  of  taking  up  a  position  in  the  rear  of  the 
British,  while  another  armt/  under  Soult  lay  in  front,  he  found  it 
indispensable  to  make  a  prompt  retreat.  This  he  accomplished  in  the 
most  masterly  manner,  though  the  weather  was  severe,  provisions 
scanty,  the  inhibitants  of  the  country  ookl  and  unfriendly,  and  a  vet- 
eran army,  greatly  superior  in  numbers,  pressing  on  his  rear.  This 
famous  retreat  closed  at  Ck>runna  on  the  11th  of  January,  1809,  hav- 
ing been  attended  with  the  loss  of  many  men  from  disorder,  and  the 
sacrifice  of  many  horses  from  want  of  forage  ;  but  without  a  stand- 
ard  being  taken,  or  a  single  check  sustained  in  action.  The  trans- 
ports, on  board  of  which  the  troops  were  to  embark,  unfortunately 
did  not  reach  Ck)runna  till  two  days  after  the  arrival  of  the  army. 
In  consequence  of  this  delay  it  became  necessary  to  risk  an  engage- 
ment on  the  6th,  in  very  disadvantageous  circumstances,  and  against 
an  enemy  greatly  superior  in  numbers.  In  spite  of  this  disparity, 
however,  the  French  were  every tr here  repulsed,  and  compelled  to  re- 
treat with  the  loss  of  two  thousand  men.  But  the  gallant  Sir  John 
Moore  was  mortally  wounded  in  the  action  by  a  cannon-ball.  Gen- 
eral Baird  being  also  disabled.  Sir  John  Hope  took  the  command, 
and  succeeded  in  embarking  the  troops,  and  bringing  them  off 
safely  without  further  Tnolestation, 

How  much  depends  upon  the  choice  of  words  is 
shown  in  the  following  poem  of  Coleridge's,  printed  as  it 
appears  in  liis  collected  works,  with  interlineations  in  small 
type  showing  the  changes  of  expression  made  in  quoting 
it  for  "  Dana's  Household  Book  of  Poetry." 
COMPLAINT. 

[The  Grood,  Great  Man.] 

How  seldom,  friend,  a  good  great  man  inherits 
Honor  or  wealth,  with  all  his  worth  and  pains  ! 

[and] 

It  sounds  like  story  from  the  land  of  spint« 

[seems  a]  [world] 

If  any  man  obtain  that  which  he  merits. 

[When]  [obtains] 

Or  any  merits  that  which  he  obtains. 


COAP.  XXI.)  EQUIVOCAL  WORDS.  4"'> 

Reproof. 

[Omitted.] 

For  shame,  my  friend  !  renounce  this  canting  strain  ! 

[idle] 

What  wouldst  thou  have  a  good  great  man  obtain  ? 
Place,  titles,  salary,  a  gilded  chain, 

[Wealth]    [title]    [dignity]         [golden] 

Or  throne  of  corses  which  his  sword  hath  slain  ? 

[heap] 

Greatness  and  goodness  are  not  means,  but  ends, 

[Goodness  and  greatnen] 

Hath  he  not  always  treasures,  always  friends, 

The  good  great  man  ?  these  treasures,  love  and  light, 

[great  good]  [three] 

And  calm  thoughts,  equable  as  infant's  breath ; 

And  three  firm  friends,  more  sure  than  day  and  night — 

[fart]  [or] 

Himself,  his  maker,  and  the  angel  death. 

[Maker]  [Death] 

In  tlie  tliiid  line  of  the  "  Reproof,"  for  instance,  all  of 
Coleridge's  words  are  more  powerful  than  Dana's,  because 
by  e.xpressing  less  intrinsic  value  they  show  more  strongly 
the  worthlessness  of  the  objects  referred  to ;  and  in  the 
ne.xt  line,  the  substitution  of  heap  for  throne  eliminates 
the  implied  idea  that  the  great  man's  elevation  is  not 
only  accotnpanied  by  but  based  on  the  woes  of  others. 
For  the  uses  of  or  and  rt«//,  see  pages  cxxi,  cx.xii,  where  it 
will  appear  that  both  the  substitutions  made  are  erroneous. 

(b)  Equivocal  Words  are  those  that  may  be  taken 
in  more  stMiscs  than  one.  "  He  (jverlooked  the  transac- 
tion," may  ini*aii  either  that  he  supervised  it,  or  that  he 
forgave  it. 

••  What  I  want,**  shouted  a  stump-speaker,  "  is  common  sense.** 
'*  Exactly  so,*'  replied  his  opponent  (See  a  similar  example  on 
pi«e266.) 


410  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

"  The  Queen  did  not  want  solicitation  to  consent  to  the  meas- 
ure." 

The  word  ••  want "  may  imply  either  that  she  did  not  desire  soli- 
citation, or  that  she  tr<«  not  without  it. 

"Henry  had  been  from  his  youth  lUtitclieil  to  the  Church  of 
Rome." 

This  may  mean  either  that  he  had  been  fond  of  the  church,  or 
that  he  had  been  a  member  of  it. 

•*  Exactly  at  eight  the  mother  came  up,  and  discovered  that  sup- 
l^er  was  not  far  off." 

"Discovered"  may  be  taken  in  either  of  two  senses.  It  may 
imply /oMw</  out,  or  it  may  imply  made  hwirn,  revetded. 

'*  The  minister's  resignation,  in  these  circumstances,  cannot  be 
too  highly  praised." 

Does  this  mean  lus  having  resigned  his  office,  or  his  being  I'e- 
signed  to  his  fate  ?  *'  Retirement "  would  imply  the  one  meaning, 
"submission"  the  other.  If  the  former  is  intended,  say  "the 
minister's  resignation  of  his  office ;"  if  the  latter,  say  **  the  resig- 
nation exhibited  by  the  minister." 

(c)  General  Words  instead  of  individual  words 
are  often  affected  by  young  writers.  They  are  as  fatal  to 
precision  as  to  every  other  quality  of  good  style.  (See 
pages  225,  240,  420.) 

Those  beautiful  English  words,  boi/s  and  girls,  are  almost  ban- 
ished from  our  modem  vocabulary.  Boi/s  and  girls  are  transformed 
into  juveniles ;  workmen  have  become  operatives ;  and  people  in 
genei*al  are  now  individuals.  These  individuals,  be  it  observed, 
are  never  dressed,  but  always  attired  or  arrayed ;  they  are  never 
ayigry,  but  often  irate;  they  never  go  into  a  sJiop,  though  they 
sometimes  condescend  to  enter  an  emporium,  or  perhaps  a  depot  ; 
and  when  they  return  home  they  never  t(fKe  off  their  things,  but 
divest  themselves  of  their  hahiUments. 

Another  practice  with  these  wiiters  is  to  sul)stitute  for  single 
terms  milk-and-water  definitions  of  them.  With  thoni  a  fire  is 
always  the  devouring  element ;  a  man  is  an  individual  of  the  mascu- 
line gender  ;  &  footman  is  a  superb  menial ;  and  a  school-master  is  the 
princip(d  of  a  collegiate  institution. — Graham. 


chap.xxi.j  excessive  brevity.  411 

The  pet  phrases  [a  "pet  phrase"  of  Mr.  Marsh  himself]  of 
hack  journalists,  the  euphemism  that  but  lately  characterized  the 
American  new8i>ai>ers,  are  fast  giving  place  to  less  affected  and 
more  appropriate  forms  of  expression.  It  is  only  the  lowest  class 
of  dailies  that  still  regard  "woman  "as  not  an  honorable  or  re- 
sjxjctful  designation  of  the  sex,  and  it  is  in  their  columns  alone 
that,  in  i)lace  of  "well-dressed  or  handsome  women,"  we  read  of 
*'  elegantly  attired  females"  and  of  '*  beautiful  ladies." — Mabsh. 

Coleridge  says  of  one  of  his  old  school  masters  : 

In  onr  own  Kngliah  compoaitions  (at  least  for  the  last  three  years  of  onr  Knglish  edu- 
cation), he  showed  no  mercy  to  phrase,  metaphor,  or  image,  uti8npport(>d  by  a  sound 
senile,  or  where  the  rame  acnsc  might  have  been  conveyol  with  equal  force  and  dignity 
in  plainer  words.  LuU,  harp,  and  li/re.  Muse,  Muaen,  and  iiiMpiratiotm,  Pegatun, 
l\tma*»u«,  and  Hippocrtne,  were  all  an  abomination  to  him.  In  fancy  I  can  almost 
hear  him  now.  exclaiming.  "  Harp*  Har^)?  Lyre?  Pen  and  ink,  boy,  you  mean  !  Muse, 
boy.  Muse?  Your  nurse's  daughter,  you  mean!  Pierian  spring?  Oh  aye !  the  cloister 
pump,  I  BUppoHe." 

Coleridge  adds  that  it  is  worthy  of  ranking  as  a  maxim  in  criti- 
cism, that  whatever  is  translatable  in  other  and  simpler  words  of 
the  same  language,  x^-ithout  loss  of  sense  or  dignity,  is  bad.  By 
dignity,  he  means  the  absence  of  ludicrous  or  debasing  associa- 
tions.—iii.  147. 

(2)  Construction  may  lack  precision  through  (a) 
Excessive  Brevity,  (b)  Redundance,  (c)  Affectation,  (d) 
I.ooseness  of  Tliought. 

(a)  Brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit ;  but  it  must  consist  in 
the  compactness  and  exactness  of  the  thought,  not  in  :i 
curtailed  expression  of  it.  It  is  excessive  wlienever  it 
leads  to  lack  of  precision,  by  (i)  the  Omission  of  Necessary 
Words ;  or  by  (ii)  the  use  of  Ambiguous  Pronouns. 

Ba<l  judges  (and  how  few  are  not  so  !)  desire  in  composition  the 
concise  and  ob.scurc ;  not  knowing  that  the  one  most  frequently 
arises  from  {laucity  of  materials,  and  the  other  from  inability  to 
manage  and  disiKwo  them. — Landou. 

(i)  The  Omission  <>f  Necessary  Words  is  illus- 
trated in  the  following  examples: 
I  must  now  make  to  you  a  general  assertion,  which,  if  yuu  will 


412  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

note  [it]  down  and  examine  [it]  at  your  leisure,  you  will  find  both 
true  and  useful. — Buskin. 

Harry  eyed  her  with  such  a  rapture  as  the  first  lover  is  described 
as  having  by  Milton. — Tuackebat. 

[The  meaning  probably  is,  **as  the  first  lover  is  described  by 
Milton  as  having  eyed  his  mistress  with.*'] 

How  to  nurse  and  take  care  of  their  children  long  before  she 
had  one  [child]  herself. — Id. 

There  is  never  wanting  a  set  of  evil  instruments  who  either  out 
of  mad  zeal,  private  hatred,  or  [greed  for]  filthy  lucre,  are  always 
ready.— Swift. 

He  lamented  the  fatal  mistake  the  world  had  been  [making]  so 
long  in  using  silk-worms. — Swift. 

That  the  discoursing  on  politics  shall  be  looked  upon  as  dull  as 
talking  on  the  weather. — Freehohler. 

[Campbell  suggests  another  as  before  the  first  as  ;  perhaps  to  he 
would  be  better.] 

I  do  not  reckon  we  want  a  genius  more  than  the  rest  of  our 
neighbors  [do]. — Swift. 

His  diet  was  abstemious,  his  prayers  [were]  long  and  fervent. — 
Gibbon. 

I  am  anxious  for  the  time  when  he  will  talk  as  much  nonsense 
to  me  as  I  have  [talked]  to  him. — Landob. 

He  says,  inter  alia  : 

The  correspondence  alone  which  I  have  to  condnct  is  at  once  extensive  and  demand- 
ing thoughtful  attention,  but  I  never  have,  nor  ever  will,  allow  literary  work  to  inter- 
fere with  the  performance  of  pastoral. 

You  never  have  allow  that,  doctor,  the  magistrate  means,  Mr. 
Editor,  and  he  hopes,  too,  that  you  never  icill  allowed  it,  never  no 
more.     "  Literary  work,"  indeed. — Moon. 

Friends  and  children  who  come  after  me,  in  which  way  will  you 
bear  your  trials  ?  I  know  one  that  pi-ays  God  will  give  you  love 
rather  than  pride,  and  that  the  Eve  all-seeing  shall  find  you  in 
the  humble  place.  Not  that  we  should  judge  proud  spirits  other- 
wise than  charitably.  'Tis  nature  hath  fashioned  some  for  ambi- 
tion and  dominion,  as  it  hath  formed  others  for  obedience  and 
gentle  submission.  The  leopard  follows  his  nature  as  the  lamb 
does  [?].    She  can  neither  help  her  beauty,  nor  her  courage,  nor 


Chap.  XXI.]  AMBIGUOUS  PRONOUNS.  413 

her  omelty,  not  a  single  spot  on  her  shining  coat ;  nor  the  con- 
quering spirit  which  impels  her ;  nor  the  shot  which  brings  her 
down.  — Thackeray,  Esmond. 

DBTBSMiNATrv'ES. — In  spite  of  the  necessity  of  frequently  intro- 
ducing determinatives  in  languages  with  few  inflections,  it  will  in 
general  be  found  that  a  given  period  framed  wholly  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  will  contain  as  few  words,  perhaps  even  fewer,  than  the 
same  thought  expressed  in  the  Romance  dialect  of  English.  The 
reason  of  this  is  that  the  unpleasant  effect  of  the  frequent  recur- 
rence of  particles  has  obliged  us  to  invent  forms  of  expression  in 
which  such  members,  though  grammatically  required  to  complete 
the  period,  are  dispensed  with,  and  we  use  these  forms  with  less 
repugnance  in  Saxon  combinations,  where  they  were  first  employed, 
than  in  Latin  ones,  which  are  of  later  introduction  and  less  famil- 
iar structure.  Thus  we  say,  "The  man  I  bought  the  house  of," 
•'The  man  we  were  talking  of;"  and  we  may  with  equal  gram- 
matical propriety  say,  •'  The  gentleman  I  purchased  the  house  of,** 
•*  The  person  we  were  conversing  of ; "  but  we  should  be  much 
toore  likely  to  employ  a  more  formal  syntax,  **  The  gentleman  of 
whom  I  purchased  the  house,"  "  The  person  of  whom  we  were 
conversing."  Again,  one  would  say,  •*  I  told  him  I  had  called  on 
General  Taylor,"  omitting  the  conjunction  that  before  the  second 
member  of  the  period  ;  but  if  we  employed  Romance  words,  we 
should  more  probably  retain  the  conjunction,  as,  **I  informed 
him  t?iat  I  had  paid  my  respects  to  the  President."  Although, 
then,  the  Anglo-Saxon  so  far  controls  all  other  elements  that  we 
may  grammatically  employ  foreign  words  in  the  same  way  as 
native  ones,  yet  a  half-conscious  sense  of  linguistic  congruity 
usually  suggests  a  more  formal  structure  of  the  period,  when  it  is 
composed  chiefly  of  Romance  radicals.  — Mabsh. 

(ii)  Ambiguous  Pronouns  are  so  great  an  evil  in 
composition  that  Bain  says  the  clearness  of  composition  de- 
pends more  upon  the  use  of  he^  she^  it,  they,  than  upon  any 
other  single  matter  coming  within  the  scope  of  grammar. 

The  word  it  is  the  greatest  troubler  that  I  know  of  in  the  lan- 
guage. It  is  so  small,  and  so  convenient,  that  few  are  careful 
enough  in  using  it.     Writers  seldom  spare  this  word.     Whenever 


414  PRECISION.  (Part  IV. 

they  are  at  a  loss  for  either  a  nominative  or  an  adjective  to  tlieir 
sentence,  they,  without  any  kind  of  ceremony,  clap  in  an  it. — 

COBBETT. 

llewrite  the  following  sentence  so  as  to  avoid  the  con- 
fusion of  iU. 

It  is  many  times  as  troublesome  to  make  good  the  pretence  of 
a  good  quality  as  to  have  it ;  and  if  a  man  have  it  not,  it  is  ten  to 
one  but  he  is  discovered  to  want  it,  and  then  all  his  pains  and 
labors  to  seem  to  have  it  are  lost. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  sometimes  needlessly  avoided. 
Thus: 

During  our  stay  in  town  one  young  man  had  his  cheek  cut 
open;  another  his  under-lip  nearly  taken  off;  a  third  his  scalp 
cut  in  two  ;  and  a  fourth  the  tip  of  his  nose  so  thoroughly  excised 
that  tfie  end  of  his  nasal  organ  [itj  lay  upon  the  ground. — Henry 
Mathew,  German  Li/e^  ii.,  67. 

A  Strikino  Illusttration. — ^You  say,  "While  treating  of  the 
pronunciation  of  those  who  minister  in  public,  two  other  words 
occur  to  me  which  are  very  commonly  mangled  by  our  clergy. 

A 

One  of  these  is  *  covetous,'  and  its  substantive  *  covetousness.'    I 
hope  some  who  read  tJiese  lines  will  be  induced  to  leave  off  pro- 

B  c 

nouncing  t?iem  *  covetious  *  and  *  covetiousness.'    I  can  assure  them 

D  E  F 

that  when  thei/  do  thus  call  thejn,  one  at  least  of  their  hearers  has 

G 

his  appreciation  of  tJieir  teaching  disturbed." 

I  fancy  that  many  a  one  who  reads  these  lines  will  have  Jiis  ap- 
preciation of  your  teaching  disturbed,  as  far  as  it  relates  to  the 
Queen's  English.  But  now  for  the  changes  which  may  be  mng 
on  these  bells,  as  I  have  called  them.  The  first  of  them,  A,  may 
apply  either  to  7coi'ds  or  to  our  clei'gy.  One  of  these  is  "  cov- 
etous." I  am  sony  to  say  that  the  general  belief  is  that  there  are 
more  than  one ;  but  perhaps  you  know  one  in  particular.  How- 
ever, my  remarks  interrupt  the  bell-ringing,  and  we  want  to  count 
the  changes,  so  I  will  say  no  more,  but  will  at  once  demonstrate 


Chap.  XXI. 


AMBIGUOUS   PRONOUNS. 


415 


that  we  can  ring  10,240  changes  on  your  peal  of  bells  !  In  other 
words,  that  your  paiugraph,  of  loss  than  ten  lines,  is  so  anihiguonsly 
worded  that,  without  any  alteration  of  its  gmmniar  or  syntax,  it 
may  be  read  in  10,240  different  ways !  and  only  one  of  all  that 
number  shall  be  the  right  way  t  j  express  your  meaning. 


The 
ProaotuuL 

Noaiw  to  which  they  may 
apply. 

S5» 

No.  of  Different  Readings. 

A,  tksm 

wortKoreleiKy 

words,  cJerjry,  readcrn,  or  lines. 

I.         ••             »              tt 
words,  clergy,  readers,  lines,  or 
hearers 

2 

9 

B.  tketH.: 
C  tkem.. 

D,  «*«y  . 

E,  tkem.. 

F,  tketr.. 
Q,  ikeir.. 

4.... 
4.... 
4... 
4.... 
4..  . 

6.... 

these  4  X  by  the  above       2  =          8 
these4x     "           "           8=        82 
these  4  X     "           •'         32=      128 
the«i4x      "            "        128=       612 
these  4  X     ••           "       612=   2,048 

theaftS  X     "           *'    2,048=10,240 

-Moon. 


He  [Maeanlay]  has  a  perfect  hatred  of  pronouns,  and  for  fear  of 
a  iwssible  entanglement  between  "  him's  "  and  "  her's  "  and  •*  it's," 
he  will  rei)eat  not  merely  a  substantive  but  a  whole  group  of  sub- 
stantives. Sometimes,  to  make  his  sense  unmistakable,  ho  will 
repeat  a  whole  formula  with  only  a  change  in  the  copula. — Leslie 
Stephen. 

Other  Inotances  op  Ambiguous  Pronouns.— They  [those  histo- 
rians] who  have  talents  want  industry  or  virtue  ;  they  [those]  who 
have  industry  want  talents.— Southey. 

His  servant  Ijeing  ill,  fie  had  consented  to  allow  his  brother,  a 
timid  youth  from  the  country,  to  take  his  place  for  a  short  time, 
and  for  that  short  time  fie  was  a  constant  source  of  annoyance. — 
Life  of  C.  J.  Matfietts. 

Lisias  promised  to  his  father  never  to  abandon  his  friends. — 
Quoted  by  Oami'Bell. 

My  good  lord  often  talked  of  visiting  that  land  in  Virginia 
which  King  Charles  gave  us— gave  his  ancestor.  —Thackeray. 

The  war  then  exciting  attention  to  the  American  Colonies  as 
one  of  the  chief  points  in  dispute,  they  came  oat  in  two  volumes 
octavo. — Prior,  Life  of  Burfce. 

Men  look  with  an  evil  eye  upon  the  good  that  is  in  others,  and 
think  that  tfieir  reputation  obscures  them,  and  tlnit  tlfir  commend- 


416  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

able  qualities  stand  in  their  light ;  and  therefore  tJiet/  do  what 
/Acy  can  to  cast  a  cloud  over  tJiem^  that  the  shining  of  their  virtues 
may  not  obscure  tfietn. — Tillotson. 

There  are  some  men  who  allow  the  sex  no  virtues  because  they 
allow  them  no  favors.  — Fieldino. 

The  exercise  of  reason  appears  as  little  in  them  as  in  the  beasts 
thei/  sometimes  hunt,  and  by  whom  thei/  are  sometimes  hunted. — 

BOLIKOBBOKE. 

There  is  no  popular  Life  of  Bossuet  to  be  found  in  France — 
Cardinal  de  Bausset's  is  the  only  one  [life],  and  that  is  bulky  and 
dry. — Bossuet  and  his  Contemporaries. 

In  any  testimony  (whether  oral  or  written)  that  is  unwillingly 
borne,  it  will  more  frequently  consist  in  something  incidentally 
implied  than  in  a  distinct  statement. — Whatblt. 

Mr.  A.  presents  his  compliments  to  Mrs.  B.  /  have  got  a  hat 
which  is  not  his ;  if  he  have  got  a  hat  which  is  not  yours^  no  doubt 
they  are  the  missing  one. — Hodgson. 

Even  in  this  short  sentence  we  may  discern  an  inaccuracy — why 
our  language  is  less  refined  than  those  of  Italy ,  Prance^  and  Spain  ; 
putting  the  pronoun  those  in  the  plural,  when  the  antecedent  sub- 
stantive to  which  it  refers  is  in  the  singular,  our  Language. — Blaib. 

[Here  Blair  is  manifestly  in  error.  The  sentence  should 
read,  why  our  language  is  less  refined  than  are  the  lan- 
guages of  Italy ^  France.,  and  Spain.     (See  page  cxxv.)  ] 

Find  other  instances  of  ambiguous  pronouns  on  pages 
45,  TO,  240. 

A  genderless  personal  noun  is  a  marked  want 
of  the  English  language,  as  witness  the  following : 

When  everybody  [allj  can  ride  as  soon  as  they  are  bom. — Sydney 
Smith. 

It  is  true  that  when  perapective  was  first  discovered,  everybody 
[all]  amused  themselves  with  it. — Ruskin. 

Each  of  the  sexes  should  keep  within  its  proper  bounds,  and  con- 
tent themselves  to  exult  within  their  respective  districts. — Addison. 

Each  prayed  for  the  other  rather  than  for  themselves. — Mrs. 
Gaskell. 


Chap.  XXI.  J      A  GENDERLESS  PRONOUN.  417 

When  it  took  a  twelvemonth's  hard  work  to  make  a  single  vol- 
nme  legible,  men  considered  a  little  the  diflference  between  one 
book  and  another ;  but  now,  when  not  only  (inyb(Hhf  can  get  them- 
selves made  legible,  through  any  quantity  of  volumes,  in  a  week, 
but  the  doing  so  becomes  a  living  to  them,  and  they  can  fill  their 
stomach  with  the  foolish  foam  of  their  lips,  the  universal  pesti- 
lence of  falsehood  fills  the  mind  of  the  world  as  cicadas  do  olive- 
leaves,  and  the  first  necessity  of  our  mental  government  is  to  ex- 
tricate from  among  the  insectal  noise  the  few  notes  and  words  that 
are  divine. — Ruskin. 

It  is  probably  through  the  habit  of  using  a  plural  pro- 
noun when  the  antecedent  is  of  both  sexes  that  tlie  plural 
is  sometimes  used  for  the  singular  when  the  antecedent  Tn- 
cludes  only  one  sex.     Thus : 

Each  of  the  girls  went  up  into  their  [her]  separate  rooms  [room] 
to  rest  and  calm  themselves  [hei-selfj.— Mrs.  Gaskkll. 

[Hodgson  corrects  the  sentence  as  above,  but  the  meaning  is 
better  pi*eserved  by  substituting  aU  for  each  of.\ 

The  use  of  "one"  as  a  personal  pronoun,  cor- 
responding with  the  French  On  dit  and  the  German  Man 
sagt,  is  growing  in  favor,  and  is  beginning  to  be  character- 
istic of  the  best- bred  speech. 

OfM  doth  not  know 
How  maoh  an  ill  word  may  empoison  liking.— JTmcA  Ado  about  Nothing. 

See  examples  on  pages  4,  5,  9,  18,  etc.  Avoid  awk- 
wardness by  sn!)stitiiting  o?ie  for  he  or  she  on  page  47. 

Reflexive  Pronouns  require  care,  as  witness  the 
following : 

If  this  trade  be  fostered,  we  shall  gain  from  one  nation  ;  and  if 
another,  from  another. 

Which  might  help  us  to  discover  the  conformity  or  disagreeable- 
ness  of  the  one  to  the  other. — Addison. 

The  greatest  masters  of  critical  learning  differ  among  one  an- 
other.— Spectator, 


4rl8  PRECISION.  (Part  IV. 

Hereafter,  when  tmioR  moving  in  an  opposite  direction  are  ap- 
proaching each  other  on  separate  lines,  conductoi-s  and  engineers 
will  be  required  to  bring  their  rosi^ective  trains  to  a  dead  halt  be- 
fore the  i>oint  of  meeting,  and  be  very  careful  not  to  proceed  until 
each  train  has  passed  the  other. 

A  writer  in  the  Atlantic  of  the  death  of  Dabney  Carr,  the  brother- 
in-law  of  Thomas  Jefferson,  says : 

Mindful  of  the  ronuntlc  agreement  of  their  youth  that  whidiever  died  flnt,  should 
bury  the  other  under  the  giant  oak  on  MontioeUo,  etc,  etc. 

This  is  rather  hard  on  **  the  other  " — and  on  IMr.  Jefferson — and 
on  the  corpse. — Danhury  News. 

(b)  Redundance  is  fatal  to  precision. 

Looseness  from  redundance  is  specially  apt  to  occur  in  speaking 
on  difficult  themes  to  the  popular  mind.  Under  such  conditions, 
one  is  apt  to  explain,  to  qualify,  to  rei^eat,  to  speak  in  circum- 
locutory phrase,  to  experiment  with  variation.  These  easily  over- 
whelm the  thought  with  words.  One  then  loses  precision  in  the 
effort  to  be  perspicuous.  Style  moves  askant  and  askew  in  the 
effort  to  move  at  all.  Sometimes  the  very  struggle  to  be  precise 
— the  mind,  in  the  very  act  of  composing,  being  intent  on  preci- 
sion— may  defeat  itself.  Here,  again,  thought  is  overbonie  by 
the  machineiy  employed  to  give  it  utterance.  Writers  who  pride 
themselves  on  philosophical  accuracy  are  apt  to  mnltij^ly  qual- 
ifications, and  circumstantial  incidents,  and  secondaiy  clauses, 
and  parenthetical  disclosures,  so  that  no  possible  en-or  shall 
be  affirmed  ;  but  that  very  strain  after  accuracy  defeats  its  aim 
through  the  mere  expansion  of  bulk  and  involution  of  connections. 
When  a  dozen  words  might  have  been  underetood,  a  dozen  dozen 
may  fall  dead  on  the  ear. 

Edmund  Burke  sometimes  illustrates  this.  In  one  of  his  elabo- 
rate sentences  you  will  sometimes  find  words  and  clauses  selected 
and  multiplied  and  arranged  and  compacted  and  qualified  and 
defined  and  repeated,  for  the  veiy  purpose  of  extending  and  limit- 
ing the  truth  to  its  exact  and  undoubted  measure.  He  obviously 
labors  to  say  just  what  he  means — no  more,  no  less,  no  other. 
Still,  on  the  whole,  he  fails,  because  he  is  so  elaborately  precise 
in  details.     The  thought  is  suffocated  by  the  multitude  of  words 


Chap.  XXL]         llEDUNDANCE— AFFECTATION.  419 

employed  to  give  it  life.  It  is  bnried  alive.  To  change  the  figure, 
yon  can  divide  and  snbdivide  a  field  into  so  many,  so  small,  so 
regular,  and  so  exact  patches,  that  the  chief  impression  it  shall 
leave  on  your  eye  is  that  of  the  fences.  Similar  is  the  impression 
of  an  excessively  precise  style. — Phelps. 

It  is  needful  to  insist  the  more  on  the  energetic  effect  of  con- 
ciseness, because  so  many,  especially  young  writers  and  si^eakers, 
are  apt  to  fall  into  a  style  of  pompous  verbosity,  not  from  negli- 
gence, but  from  an  idea  that  they  are  adding  to  the  pei*spicuity 
and  force  of  what  is  said,  when  they  are  only  encumbering  the 
sense  with  a  needless  load  of  words.  And  they  are  the  more  likely 
to  commit  this  mistake  because  such  a  style  will  often  apiKjar  not 
only  to  the  author  but  to  the  vulgar  (i.e.,  vulgar  in  intellect) 
among  his  hearei*s  to  be  very  majestic  and  impressive.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  hear  a  sj^eaker  or  writer  of  this  class  mentioned  as 
having  a  very  fine  command  of  language,  when  perhajjs  it  might 
be  said  with  more  correctness  that  his  language  had  a  command 
of  him;  i.e.,  that  he  follows  a  train  of  words  ratlier  than  of 
thought,  and  strings  together  all  the  more  striking  expressions 
that  occur  to  him  on  tlie  subject,  instead  of  first  forming  a  clear 
notion  of  the  sense  he  wishes  to  convey,  and  then  seeking  the  most 
appropriate  vehicle  in  which  to  convey  it.  He  has  but  the  same 
command  of  language  that  the  rider  has  of  a  horse  that  runs  away 
with  him. — Whately. 

For  illustration,  on  page  222  it  is  said  that  the  printer's 
place  will  not  be  easily  filled  by  his  equal.  It  would  l)e 
precise  to  say  tliat  his  place  would  not  be  easily  tilled,  or 
that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  his  equal.  But  tliere  is 
no  reason  why  bis  equal  sbould  not  fill  bis  place  easily 
enough. 

(c)  Affectation  is  a  prevailing  enemy  to  precision. 
Young  writers  are  slow  to  learn  that  the  simplest,  most 
direct  statement  of  a  thought  is  tbe  best ;  and  they  strive 
ti)  array  ideas  tbat  they  recognize  as  commonplace  in  dis- 
tinguished language.     (See  pages  193,  197,  349.) 

A  two-foot  rule  was  given  to  a  laborer  in  a  Clyde  boat-yard  to 


420  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

measure  an  iron  plate.  The  laborer,  not  being  well  up  in  the  use 
of  the  rule,  after  spending  a  considerable  time,  returned.  "  Noo, 
Mick,"  asked  the  plater,  •*  what  size  is  the  plate  ?  **  "  Well,"  re- 
plied Mick,  with  a  grin  of  satisfaction,  ••  it's  the  length  of  your 
i-ule  and  two  thumbs  over,  with  this  piece  of  brick,  and  the 
breadth  of  my  hand  and  my  arm  from  here  to  there,  bar  a  finger.** 
— Punch. 

We  laugh  at  the  workman  for  employing  thirty. two 
words  and  six  kinds  of  measurement  to  express  what 
would  have  been  more  exactly  understood  if  he  had  said 
'*  thirty-three  inches."  But  his  blunder  was  due  to  igno- 
rance of  the  use  of  the  rule.  Had  he  been  accustomed  to 
the  rule,  and  had  the  circumlocution  been  an  aflFectation  of 
elegance,  or  an  attempt  to  make  the  measurement  seem 
more  important,  he  would  have  been  discharged  for 
idiocy.  Yet  his  fault  would  have  been  no  greater  than 
that  of  the  reporter  who  writes  that  "  the  devouring  ele- 
ment is  devastating  the  capacious  granary  of  one  of  our 
most  influential  citizens,"  when  he  means  that  a  fire  ha» 
broken  out  in  John  Smith's  barn. 

A  writer  in  the  Westminster  Review  discourses  after  this^ 
fashion  : 

Anothpr  curioas  observation  upon  philosophic  activity  is,  that  the  co-ordination  of  all 
the  functions  which  constitute  the  whole  intellectual  enenry  of  philosophic  minds  is  pre- 
served in  its  plenitude  for  only  a  short  period  of  their  whole  duration  of  life.  There  oc- 
curs, and  generally  at  a  period  of  middle  life,  an  epoch  when  the  assimilation  of  scientific 
material  and  its  ulterior  elaboration  proceed  with  an  energy  more  vigorous  and  more  con- 
tinuous than  is  ever  afterward  attained  by  the  same  mind.  This  phase  of  philosophical 
superactivity  is  always  succeeded  by  an  intellectual  phase  characterized  by  less  expendi- 
ture of  simultaneous  powers. 

I  do  not  say  that  this  has  no  meaning.  But  what  is  its  mean- 
ing ?  If  I  do  not  miss  it  in  the  volume  of  its  long-tailed  vocabu- 
lary, it  is  this,  and  this  is  the  whole  of  it — that  the  mind  of  a  met- 
aphysician is  more  \igorous  for  a  time  near  middle  life  than  it 
ever  is  afterward.  Why  could  not  the  re^^ewer  say  that,  if  he  must 
say  a  thing  so  obvious,  and  be  content  ?    .     .     . 


Chap.  XXL]  BOMBAST.  421 

That  a  profound  mind  doing  honest  work  cannot  make  profound 
thought  clear,  implies  intellectual  disease  or  imbecility  in  the  rest 
of  mankind  to  an  extent  which  is  never  true,  except  in  effete  or 
decadent  mces.  It  is  more  probable  that  some  of  our  philosophi- 
cal writers  strain  after  the  look  of  profoundness  when  the  reality 
is  not  in  them.  That  was  a  perilous  principle  which  Coleridge 
advanced  respecting  the  capacity  of  human  language,  that  it  can- 
not express  certain  metaphysical  ideas,  and  therefore  that  clear- 
ness of  style  in  a  metaphysical  treatise  is  prinui  facie  evadence  of 
superficialness.  As  Coleridge  was  accustomed  to  illustrate  it,  the 
pool  in  which  you  can  count  the  pebbles  at  the  bottom  is  shallow 
water ;  the  fathomless  depth  is  that  in  which  you  can  only  see  the 
reflection  of  your  own  face.  This  would  be  tiiie  if  thinking  were 
water.  But  the  principle  opens  the  way  to  the  most  stupendous 
impositions  upon  speculative  science.  It  tempts  authors  to  the 
grossest  affectations  in  style.  In  the  study  of  modem  psychology, 
therefore,  a  preacher  needs  to  be  on  his  guard.  We  may  safely 
treat  as  a  fiction  in  philo.sophy  anything  which  claims  to  be  a  dis- 
covery, yet  cannot  make  itself  understood  without  huge  and  un- 
manageable contortions  of  the  English  tongue. — Phelps. 

Bombast,  whicli  originally  meant  tlie  cotton  wadding 
with  which  garments  are  stuffed  and  lined,  is  now  appro- 
priately applied  to  inflated  diction,  words  that  are  big 
but  empty.     (See  page  223.) 

A«  one  of  the  faults  of  over-civilization,  an  intellectual  as  well 
as  a  personal  coxcombry  is  apt  to  prevail,  which  leads  jx»ople  to 
expect  from  each  other  a  certain  dashing  turn  of  mind,  and  an  ap- 
{x^arance  at  least  of  having  ideas,  whether  they  can  afford  them 
or  not.— LmoH  Hunt. 

Ignorant  and  unreflecting  persons,  though  they  cannot  be, 
strictly  speaking,  convinced  by  what  they  do  not  understand,  yet 
will  very  often  suppose  each  tliat  the  rest  understand  it ;  and  each 
is  ashamed  to  acknowledge  even  to  himself  his  own  darkness  and 
perplexity :  so  that  if  the  speaker  with  a  confident  air  announces 
his  conclusion  as  established,  they  will  often,  aircording  to  the 
maxim  omne  ignoium  pro  matpiijico^  take  for  granted  he  has  ad- 
vanced valid  arguments,  and  will  be  loath  to  seem  behindhand  in 


4^22  PRECISION.  fPAUTlV. 

comprehending  them.  It  usnally  requires  that  a  man  should  have 
some  confidence  in  his  o\*ti  understanding  to  venture  to  say, 
*'  What  has  been  sjwken  is  unintelligible  to-me."— Whatelt. 

I  have  heard  of  a  preacher  wlio,  desirous  to  appear  verj-  pro- 
found, and  to  make  observations  on  the  commonest  subjects,  which 
had  never  occun*ed  to  anybody  before,  remarked  as  an  instance  of 
the  goodness  of  Providence  that  the  moments  of  time  come  suc- 
cessively and  not  simultaneously  or  together,  which  last  method  of 
coming  would,  he  said,  occasion  infinite  confusion  in  the  world. — 
Campbell. 

See  similar  illustration  at  foot  of  page  85. 

Examples  of  Bomhaat  ai*e  unliappily  frequent;  the 
newspapers  are  full  of  them.  Here  are  a  few.  (See  also 
pages  306,  307.) 

"Mr.  and  Mrs.  D ,  Boston,  U.  8.  A.  Best  and  -most  pros- 
perous countrj^  under  the  sun.  Thank  God  !  Just  arrived  from 
Chamouny  on  mules ;  pleased  with  the  mountains."  This  is  an 
inscription  on  a  Swiss  hotel  register.  The  mules  could  not  write* 
—  Gokltn  Age. 

A  yoimg  man  at  Elkhart,  Ind.,  has  started  a  six-column  weekly 
paper  with  the  avowed  object  of  **  restoring  to  the  Republic  its 
wonted  grandeur  and  prosperity."  You  can't  do  it,  young  fellow. 
We  tried  for  six  years  to  restore  the  Republic  to  its  wonted  gran- 
deur and  prosperity  by  publishing  the  ablest  paper  in  this  country 
and  taking  turnips  and  slab  wood  on  subscription,  and  never  had 
money  enough  to  buy  a  dog  ;  but  of  late  years  we  have  let  the 
wonted  grandeur  of  the  Republic  shirk  for  itself,  and  on  the  first 
of  January  we  had  over  six  dollM*s. — Peck's  Sun. 

"Young  Subscriber"  wants  to  know  "  what  is  an  organ  ?  "  It 
is  the  opposition  paper,  my  son;  the  vile  and  truckling  sheet 
through  whose  venomoiis  maw,  fetid  with  vice  and  festering  with 
the  loathsome  corruption  in  which  it  daily  wallows,  the  other 
party,  blistered  with  the  x^lague  spot  of  political  leprosy,  sewers 
the  noisome  filth  of  its  i>estilential  ideas.  Gur-r-r ! !  That's  what 
an  organ  is,  my  boy.  Our  own  j^aper  is  a  Fearless  and  Out- 
spoken Champion  for  the  Truth.  You  may  have  noticed  that. — 
Burlington  Haw  key  e. 


Chap.  XXI]  BOMBAST.  423 

Congress  has  been  nnder  bad  influences,  according  to  the  Hon. 
Rolliu  M.  Daggett,  of  Nevada,  who,  in  a  late  speech  to  the  House, 
remarked: 

"  M»ny-tongued  rumor,  tho  unblest  evangel  of  caJumny,  has  more  than  hinted 
that  to  the  flitter  of  gold  have  been  added  the  enchantments  of  beauty  to  warp  the  judg- 
ments of  mm,  and  that  the  corporate  Aladdinn  of  tho  land,  whose  influence  it  in  impoB- 
•ibte  not  to  feel,  even  in  the  inner  chambers  of  thii4  temple,  have  uallcil  to  their  council? 
both  the  sightleas  son  of  Ceres  and  the  star-eyed  cyprlan  whose  home  is  on  the  heights." 

Mr.  Daggett  himself  is  inclined  to  charitably  disbelieve  these 
reports ;  but  even  his  alleged  disbelief  is  not  reassuring,  because 
this  is  its  basis  : 

*'  Even  were  it  possible  for  me  to  believe  them,  over  my  shoulders  I  would  hang  the 
mantle  of  doubt,  and,  like  the  blessed  of  Noah's  sons,  walk  backward  with  it  to  cover  the 
infamy  before  the  world  beheld  it  or  our  own  eyes  were  blasted  by  the  unwelcome  vision." 

The  matter  would  seem  to  be  one  for  inquiry,  even  if  the  sight- 
less son  of  Ceres  and  the  star-eyed  cyj^rian  had  to  be  summoned 
to  testify.— .y<w  York  Sun. 

A  yoang  lady,  Miss  Alice  Ilgenfritz,  delivered  nn  address  on  journalism  to  the  Fourth 
Iowa  District  Press  Association  the  other  day.  We  find  her  essay  in  the  Burlington 
Itaiokeye.  She  thinks  that  there  is  still  room  at  the  top,  and  that  a  negh'ct  of  literary 
flnUh  Is  one  of  the  great  faults  of  American  newspapers.  Instead  of  dwelling  on  and 
polishing  up  thHr  idea.*,  men  think  more  of  making  a  speedy  and  advantageous  sale  of 
them.  Miss  Alice  is  a  rather  clever  girl,  but  she  must  not  dwell  on  her  ideas  to<»  long,  or 
polish  them  up  too  elaborately.  The  result  of  too  much  liU-rary  finish  is  seen  in  such 
amasing  passagfS  as  this  in  her  address  to  the  Iowa  editors :  "  I  am  thankful  for  the 
iooaodMtio  spades  which  are  rooting  up  old  saws  that  have  become  stripped  of  all  signifl- 
canoe,  Hke  Cleopatra's  Needle,  by  being  removed  from  their  natural  surroundings."— JVeio 
York  Sun. 

A  flnioky,  fofHqr,  round  little  man  stepped  up  to  the  first  waiter  in  a  new  oyster  saloon 
in  Sixth  Avenue,  and  said : 

"  Have  yoa  got  any  really  nioe,  fresh,  good  oysters  ?  ** 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Not  too  fM,  yoa  know— bat  not  thin,  either.  I  want  them  jost  exactly  right,  and  I 
want  them  psrfectly  fresh.** 

"  How  will  yoa  have  them— half  shell  f  " 

••Stop  a  moment,**  said  the  little  man  ;  "  if  you  have  got  Just  the  riRht  kin<l  in  jjist 
the  right  condition,  plaaae  take  half  a  pint  of  small  ones  (not  too  small,  you  know)  and 
strain  the  juioe  off  them  carefully,  leaving  just  a  little  juice  on  them  :  put  them  in  a  |>an 
which  has  been  sooared  and  drii-d,  and  then  add  a  little  butter  (goo<l  pure  butter) 
and  a  little  milk  (not  New  Y«»rk  milk,  but  real  country  cow's  milk),  and  then  place  the 
pan  over  a  ooai  flre  and  bo  careful  to  keep  the  pnn  In  n>otinn  so  as  not  to  let  the  oysters 
or  the  milk  Imm :  add  a  tittle  juice  If  you  choone,  and  then  watch  the  pan  closely  so  that 
it  it  coinea  to  a  boil  yoa  can  whip  It  off.    At  the  same  time  have  a  deep 


424  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

dish  warming  near  at  hand,  and  when  yoa  see  the  flnt  dgn  of  boiling  empty  the  pan  into 
the  dish.     Do  jou  think  yoa  can  remember  that  f  ** 

"  One  stew  I  "  the  waiter  called  oai.—RetaUer. 

The  mellow  light  that  saffused  this  valley  at  the  dawn  of  the  annlTenary  of  the  birth 
of  liberty  on  Tuesday  morning  was  reflected  npon  acanva«  that  was  pare  and  virgin ;  the 
bmsh  of  oiroamstances  had  never  Tisited  it,  and  it  was  rung  up  by  the  Divine  Crtator 
amid  the  din  and  noise  of  the  universe — yea,  it  revealed  a  day  that  was  bright  with  the 
contributions  of  nature.  Here  below  everybody  was  in  an  apparently  happy  mood, 
and  the  spirit  of  good-fellowship  seemed  to  prevail  The  air  was  aromatic  with  the 
smoke  and  fumea  of  hot  salt-petra,  and  the  reaonant  sound  of  caonon  waa  mingled  with 
the  roar  of  human  voicea  and  the  shitoka  of  steam  whixtles.  The  streets  were  thronged 
with  participants  In  Fooith  of  Joly  faativitiea,  and  everybody  abandoned  themselves  to 
a  general  good  time.  But  there  was  a  tragedy  rapidly  incubating,  and  it  wa8  to  cast  a 
gloom  and  terrible  awe  over  the  happy  features  of  the  natal  day  of  freedom.  The  bullet 
was  to  play  its  part  and  stab  hilarity  to  the  heart.  Between  two  and  three  o'clock,  while 
peace  supported  the  aoeptre,  oommoUoo  and  strife  suddenly  seized  it  and  tore  along  liar 
rison  Avenue.  Ouns  were  seen  glittering  m  the  sunlight,  and  a  man  was  seen  tottering 
across  the  street.     It  was  Tommy  Bennett  who  had  been  shot.  —LeadviUe  Herald. 

Let  it  be  written  on  every  leaf  that  trembles  in  the  Canadian  and  American  forests, 
every  blade  of  grass  that  waves  in  the  morning  breeze,  every  sail  that  whitenH  the  sea  of 
commerce  :  let  it  blaae  from  the  stm  at  noontide  and  be  reflected  in  the  milder  radiance 
cA  every  star  that  bedecks  the  ftrmaroent  of  Ood  ,  let  it  echo  through  the  arches  of  heaven 
and  reverbeiate  through  the  corridors  of  our  national  temple,  that  the  grand  and  sym 
pathetic  words  cf  Queen  Victoria  which  flashed  on  the  wings  of  cltHrtricity  over  the  At- 
lantic cable  and  hovered  like  a  guardian  angel  over  the  l>ed  of  the  dying  President  Oar- 
field,  were  words  of  pearls  and  diamonds  set  in  the  necklace  of  international  unity  and 
harmony,  hung  aroand  the  neck  of  the  Goddess  of  Liberty.  — Cokkul  A.  B.  Elxjott. 

Now  1  haven't  the  slightest  disposition  to  become  liyperbolical,  nor  in  any  way  to  mis- 
represent or  exaggferate  the  state  of  facts  relative  to  the  repeated  annoyance  to  which  1 
have  been  subjected,  both  by  envious,  jealous,  and  half -educated  renegades  and  counter- 
feits, pretending  to  be  of  my  own  political  faith  and  friendly  to  me,  and  the  ridiculously 
insane  and  contemptible  bowlings  of  a  partisan  press  ;  but  I  du  wish  to  say,  that  if  there 
be  an  adult  of  masculine  persuasion  on  the  face  of  this  mundane  sphere,  upon  whom  at- 
tempts at  persecution  are  l)eing  daily  and  hourly  enacted,  and  by  a  class  of  men,  neither 
represented  by  the  honest,  fair-minded,  and  hard-working  mechanics,  nor  by  the  purely 
high-toned,  reliable,  and  justice-dealing  business  men  of  this  community,  that  very  un- 
favored individual  is  your  most  obedient  and  bumble  Bub6cril)er.  Throwinp  aside  every- 
thing in  the  shape  of  political  sentiment,  and  givins?  heed  to  naught  but  the  spirit  of 
justice  and  fairness  among  men,  as  they  live,  move,  and  have  their  being  in  the  world,  I 
desire  to  say  that  I  have,  at  all  times,  endeavored  to  comply  strictly,  and  have  complied 
strictly,  I  flatter  myself,  with  all  the  requirements  of  the  law,  in  the  discharge  of  my 
official  duties,  and  that  it  is  my  solemn  purpose  to  continue  to  do  so  during  my  occu- 
pancy of  the  public  position  with  which  fortune,  fate,  chance,  or  circumstances  have 
found  or  burdened  me.— Sheriff  Crosby,  in  the  Viclsburg  Herald. 

The  American  people — and  we  are  glad  to  call  ourselves  that— are  rocked  on  the 
bosom  of  two  mighty  oceans,  whose  granite-bound  shores  are  whitened  by  the  floating 
canvas  of  the  commercial  world  ;  reaching  from  the  ice-fettered  lakes  of  the  north  to  the 
febrile  waves  of  Australian  seas,  comprising  the  vast  interim  of  five  billions  of  acres, 
whose  alluvial  plains,  romantic  mountains,  and  myst.c  rivers  rival  the  wildest  Utopian 


Chap.  XXI.]  AFFECTED  HUMOR.  426 

drsMiu  tiimt  ever  gathored  around  the  inspired  bard,  as  he  walke<l  the  amaranthine 
promenades  of  Hesperian  gardens,  is  proud  Columbia,  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home 
of  tha  hnLve.—L«ffUlcUor  Hetwood  on  Oravcl  Roads,  January  21,  1871. 

Affected  Humor  is  akin  to  bombast.  The  incon- 
venience of  being  a  recognized  wit  has  already  been 
pointed  ont  (see  page  129).  Even  genuine  humorists 
sometimes  lap  over  the  narrow  boundary  that  separates 
the  facetious  from  the  imbecile. 

Bret  Harte,  invited  to  appear  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  So- 
ciety of  Harvard  College,  prepared  and  read  a  poem  of  which  the 
plot  was  the  inflation  with  hydi'ogen  and  the  subsequent  explosion 
of  the  skirts  of  a  young  woman  who  wanted  ampler  crinoline  than 
her  neighbors.  Mark  Twain,  responding  to  a  toast  at  an  Atlantic 
dinner,  represented  the  adventures  in  a  mining  district  of  three 
gambling  cut-throats,  who  called  themselves  Longfellow,  Wliittier, 
and  Emerson.  The  newspapers  had  already  begun  to  quote  this 
speech  as  his  latest  and  wittiest,  when  it  came  to  light  that  the 
guests  had  listened  first  with  amazement  and  then  with  ill-con- 
cealed disgust,  and  that  Mr.  Clemens  had  written  a  most  abject 
letter  of  apology. 

Where  men  like  these  fail,  it  is  not  strange  that  dabblers  are 
often  misled.     For  instance  : 

Rerenge  was  once  man'H  hiKhcRt  duty ;  rcvengs  became  hio  choicest  pleasure.  Now 
it  haM  sunk  in  the  scale  of  enjoyment!^  to  the  rank  of  wifc-beatinj?  and  skittles. 

Take  the  case  of  Smilcr,  for  inRtance.  There  is  not  a  better  nor  a  more  eriiiablc  crea- 
ture in  exi<>tencc.  lie  can  remain  calm  when  his  cook  MMidH  hitii  up  an  uneatable  dinner. 
The  appearance  of  an  unexpected  milliner's  bill  is  not  Miffleient  to  throw  him  off  his 
balance.  Ho  is  able  to  witnesa  his  sons  playing  havoc  with  his  furniture  without  expe- 
riencing an  in»-linaiion  to  commit  murder. -/.<*«ra/  Review. 

(d)  Looseness  of  Thought  is,  however,  the 
commonest  cause  of  looseness  of  language.  Rhetorical 
principles  can  do  little  for  minds  that  express  themselves 
satisfactorily  in  sentences  like  the  following. 

He  knew  an  Irishman  who,  overcome  by  heat,  lay  six  weeks 
spoechloHs  ill  the  mouth  of  August,  and  all  his  ciy  was  "  water.** — 
QutUt'ii  hij  St'iiKfiE  i)K  Verk. 

This  extraonlinary  man  left  no  children  except  his  brother,  who 
was  killed  at  the  same  time.— J/ei;toir  of  Jiobeitj)ierre. 


420  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

A  deaf  man  named  Taff  was  run  down  by  a  passenger  train  and 
killed  on  Wednesday  moniing.  He  was  injured  in  a  similar  way 
about  a  year  ago. — New  Jersey  Journal. 

Monthly  school  reports  must  be  handed  in  on  Wednesday  of 
each  week  to  insure  their  publication. 

On  a  bridge  at  Athens,  Ga.,  was  the  following:  "Any  person 
driving  over  this  bridge  in  a  faster  pace  than  a  walk  shall,  if  a 
white  person,  be  fined  35,  and  if  a  negro,  receive  twenty-five 
laslies,  half  the  i>enalty  to  be  bestowed  on  the  informer." 

A  Mr.  Crispin  of  Oxford  announced  that  he  sold  '*  boots  and 
shoes  made  by  celebrated  Hoby,  London."  Mr.  Hoby,  irate,  put 
into  the  Oxford  pai^er,  **  The  boots  and  shoes  Mr.  Crispin  says  he 
sells  of  my  make  is  a  lie." — Alfobd. 

Carelessness  often  leads  to  expressions  so  exagger- 
ated as  to  be  absurd,  or  so  loosely  constructed  as  to  be 
ridiculous. 

A  manufacturing  wire-worker  in  an  advertisement  invites  the 
public  to  come  and  see  his  invisible  wire  fences. 

Of  course,  erery  one  mil  be  thei-e,  and  for  the  edification  of  those 
who  are  absent,  a  full  report  ^ill  be  found  in  oui-  next  paper. 

The  applause  at  the  end  of  the  scene  was  unanimous,  having 
been  heard  in  various  jmrts  of  the  house  ;  there  were  few  hisses. 

I  follow  fate,  which  does  too  fast  pursue.  —  DbtD£N. 

Those  who  recommend  the  exclusive  employment  of  either  the 
simpler  or  the  more  complex  words  of  our  rich  English,  both  err. 
— Popular  Grammar, 

Such  was  the  end  of  Murat  at  the  premature  age  of  forty-eight. 
— Alison. 

The  command  was  reluctantly  forced  upon  Prince  Eugene. — 
Alison. 

The  first  project  was  to  shorten  discourse  by  cutting  polysylla- 
bles into  one.  —Swift. 

To  Millers.  —To  be  let,  a  windmill,  containing  three  pair  of 
stones,  a  bakehouse,  corn  shop,  and  about  five  acres  of  land, 
dwelling-house,  and  garden. — Alford. 

I  had  like  to  have  got  one  or  two  broken  heads  for  my  imperti- 
nence.— Swift. 


Chap.  XXL]  COLLOCATION.  427 

The  editor  of  the  New  England  Journal  of  Education  b&jb  we 
referred  to  that  committee  matter  at  the  American  Institute  in  a 
"half -serious,  half-truthful  way." 

That  puzzles  us.  Is  the  lialf-truthful  the  same  half  as  the  half- 
serious,  or  is  it  the  other  half  ?  If  it  is  the  same  half  what  is 
the  other  half,  and  how  many  halves  are  there  to  that  ? — School 
Bulletin. 

Another  Hmall  banner  bore  the  device :  ''  Jonmeymen  Stonecatters*  Society ;  "  on  the 
back,  "  Kight  Hours  for  Wurk,  BiKht  Hours  for  Sleep,  Eight  Hours  for  Recreation,  and 
Bight  Hours  for  HcMt."     Still  another  banner  had  a  similar  inscription  in  Gorman. 

Eight  houi-8  for  work  does  not  seem  out  of  the  way,  neither 
does  eight  hours  for  sleep ;  but  to  make  a  thirty-two-Iiour  day  might 
prove  a  diihoult  matter. 

Bamum's  tattooed  Greek  sailor  was  on  exhibition  in  Albany, 
and  the  advertisement  said  : 

He  boa  upon  his  body  7,000,UOU  punctines,  and  it  war  all  done  by  a  female  savage. 
The  poor  man  loet  a  drop  of  blood  and  fihcd  a  tear  for  every  puncture,  and  was  the  only 
one  of  tirenty-four  who  survived  the  operation.  The  woman  who  did  the  tattooing 
worked  Biz  houn  a  day  for  ninety  days  iteforc  the  task  was  completed. 

A  mathematician  of  the  Albany  Express  figured  as  follows  : 

The  woman  raoFt  have  given  him  3^  punctures  a  second.  Then,  if  he  lost  one  drop 
of  blood  with  every  puncture,  h<>  lost,  estimating  the  usual  number  of  drops  to  a  pint, 
and  taking  a  pint  for  a  pound.  5,833  i>oun<I-i.  Or,  to  put  it  differently,  just  889  gallons  of 
blood,  or  a  trifle  over  twenty  barrels  during  ninety  days.  Tears  don  t  weigh  as  much  as 
blood,  ao  bunching  the  two  together,  the  gentleman  from  Albania  must  have  lost  about  5)i 
tons  of  tboee  fluids  within  three  months. 

Bamum's  agent  retorted  that,  if  tho  (lieek  had  not  been  a  won- 
derful man,  he  would  not  have  been  exhibited. 

Collocation  may  produce  ambiguity  in  sentences 
that  express  the  writer's  meaning,  but  that  are  susceptible 
of  another  interpretation.  Tims,  a  drugstore  advertises 
pills  as  follows :  "  Try  one  box,  and  you  will  never  take 
any  other  medicine."  Of  most  articles,  this  would  ha  an 
imimi)eachable  form  of  indoi-sement ;  but  as  the  box  of 
pills  would  make  the  guarantee  good  in  case  it  killed  the 
purchaser,  the  advertisement  is  ambiguous. 

This  ambiguity  may  be  intentional,  thus : 


428  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

A  familiar  exam])le  is  the  word  got,  which  may  mean  either  was, 
or  procured.  Thus  one  boy  says  to  another,  with  a  grave  face, 
"Fred  got  shot  to-day."  "Where?"  asks  the  other,  in  alarm. 
**  He  got  shot  in  a  hardware  store,**  is  the  answer — meaning,  of 
coarse,  that  he  bought  it. 

A  man  assured  a  storekeeper  who  hesitated  to  trust  his  compan- 
ion for  a  purchase:  "If  he  refuses  to  pay  for  it,  I  will."  His 
companion  refused  to  pay  for  it,  and  so  did  the  s|>eaker— as  in  one 
sense  he  had  said  he  would. 

A  sheriff  asked  the  wife  of  a  Quaker  ag^nst  whom  he  had  a 
writ  if  her  husband  was  at  home.  She  replied:  "Yes;  he  will 
see  thee  m  a  moment."  The  sheriff  waited  ;  but  the  Quaker  did 
not  appear.  He  was  contented  with  seeing  the  sheriff ;  he  did  not 
care  that  the  sheriff  should  see  him. 

"Edward,"  said  Mr.  Rice,  "  what  do  I  hear,  that  you  have  dis- 
obeyed your  grandmother,  who  told  you  just  now  not  to  jump 
down  these  ste})s  ? "  •*  Grandma  didn't  tell  us  not  to,  papa,  she 
only  came  to  the  door  and  said,  *  I  wouldn't  jump  down  those 
steps,  boys,'  and  I  shouldn't  think  she  would,  an  old  lady  like 
her ! " 

"  The  candles  you  sold  me  last  week  were  very  bad,"  said  Jer- 
rold  to  a  tallow-chandler.  "Indeed,  sir,  I  am  very  sorry  for  that." 
"  Yes,  sir  ;  do  you  know  they  burnt  to  the  middle,  and  then  would 
bum  no  longer  ? "  "You  surprise  me!  What,  sir,  did  they  go 
out  ?  "     "  No,  sir,  no ;  they  burned  shorter  !  " — Mail.    ' 

Many  popular  puzxles  depend  on  the  ambigaity  or  donble  meaning  of  words  nnd 
phrases.  Thus  we  are  told  there  was  a  man  who  had  six  children,  and  had  never  seen 
one  of  them.  We  are  led  to  suppose  that  none  of  the  children  had  ever  been  belichl  by 
their  parent.  But  the  words  may  mean  equally  as  well  that  one  of  them  had  been  bf>ru 
while  the  man  was  on  a  journey,  and  he  had,  consequently,  never  pe»'n  that  one.  An- 
other puzzle  is  this.  There  was  a  poor  blind  beggar  who  had  a  brother :  the  brother 
died,  but  the  man  who  died  had  no  brother.  What  relation  was  the  begijar  to  the  m:in 
who  died  ?  We  are  apt  to  think  that  the  b^gar  was  a  man  ;  but,  when  we  think  that 
the  beggrar  might  be  a  girl,  the  answer  becomes  quite  plain. 

We  are  told  of  two  men  who  met  each  other  at  an  inn,  and  greeted  each  other  affec- 
tionately. The  hotel-keeper  inquired  of  one  how  he  was  related  to  the  other,  who  replied : 

"  Brother  and  sister  have  I  none. 
Yet  this  man's  father  was  my  father's  son." 

This  is  a  perfectly  plain  st:\teraent,  and  yet  there  are  few  whose  minds  are  clear 
enough  to  see  at  once  that  this  jingle  of  words  is  only  a  roundabout  way  of  saying  that 
this  man  was  the  speaker's  son. 


Chap.  XXI.  J  COLLOCATION.  429 

"The  New  York  Central  fast  express  ran  oflf  the  bridge  at 
Schenectady  to-day»'*  cries  out  a  man,  in  affected  horror,  as  he 
rashes  up  to  a  crowd  of  i)eople.  After  many  exclamations  and  in  - 
qniries,  he  explains  that  after  a  train  has  run  upon  the  bridge  it 
generally  does  run  off  again. 

•*  I  hope,  my  lord,  if  you  ever  come  within  a  mile  of  my  house, 
you  will  stay  there  all  night,**  wrote  Sir  Boyle  Roche  to  a  friend. 

The  proprietor  of  a  phosphate  mill  advertises  that  parties  send- 
ing their  own  bones  to  be  ground  will  be  attended  to  with  fidelity 
and  despatch.  In  like  manner  a  chemist  advertises :  "  The  gentle- 
man who  left  his  stomach  for  analysis  will  please  call  and  get  it.'* 

Notice  at  the  door  of  a  ready-made  clothing  establishment  in 
one  of  the  poorer  quarters  of  Paris  :  '*  Do  not  go  somewhere  else 
to  bo  robbed  ;  walk  in  here." 

"Furnished  Lodgings.— A  young  man  is  open  to  hear  of  the 
tkho\e"—AdvU. 

He  must  be  the  yoimg  man  so  easily  seen  through,  because  he 
had  a  pain  in  his  chest  and  in  his  back.  Perhaps  it  was  he  that 
testified  in  an  application  for  life-insurance  that  his  little  brother 
died  of  some  funny  name. 

**I  propose  introducing  some  new  features  into  the  service," 
said  Rev.  Mr.  Textual.  "All  right,"  remarked  Fogg.  "New 
features  in  tliat  pulpit  are  just  what  I  am  longing  for." 

A  lion  tAmer  quarrelled  with  his  wife,  a  powei-ful  virago,  and 
was  chased  by  her  all  around  his  tent.  On  being  sorely  pressed 
he  took  refuge  in  the  cage  among  the  lions.  "  Oh,  you  contemp- 
tible coward/*  she  shouted,  "  come  out  if  you  dare." 

An  Iri8hman*s  friend  having  fallen  into  a  slough,  the  Irishman 
called  loudly  to  another  for  assistance.  The  latter,  who  was 
busily  engaged  in  cutting  a  log,  and  wishetl  to  procrastinate,  in- 
quired, "  How  deep  is  the  gentleman  in  ?"  "  Up  to  his  ankles." 
"Then  there  is  plenty  of  time,"  said  the  other.  "No,  there  is 
not,"  rejoined  the  first ;  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you  he*s  in  head  first." 

This  reminds  one  of  the  man  who  exasperated  a  painter  by  driv- 
ing a  close  bargain  for  a  lialf-length  portrait.  The  portrait  was 
delivered  according  to  agreement,  but  proved  to  be  of  the  lower 
half,  stopping  at  the  waist-belt. 

Dominique,  when  at  table  with  the  King,  kept  his  eyes  on  a 


430  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

dish  of  partridges.  The  Prince,  who  noticed  it,  said  to  the  ser- 
vant, "Give  tliat  dish  to  Dominique."  "Wliat,  Sire,  and  the 
partridges  too?"  The  King  replied,  "Yes!  and  the  partridges 
too."  So  Dominique  had,  with  the  i>artridges,  the  phite,  which 
was  of  gold. 

A  Philadelphia  pai>er  published  the  following  paragraph  : 

An  enamored  PhUaticlithian  haH  been  convicted  of  petty  larceny  for  abatraoting  his 
adored  one's  carte  de  viaite  from  her  photofnraph  album ;  the  Judge  decided  that  to  steal 
a  "  carte  "  waa  an  bad  aa  to  steal  a  horae. 

A  contemi)orary  made  use  of  it  as  follows,  being  careful,  of 
course,  to  leave  out  the  pun : 

A  Philadelphia  Judge  decides  that  stealing  a  girPs  photograph  from  her  album  is  as 
b«d  as  stealing  a  hone  from  a  bam. 

Here  is  an  interesting  piece  of  local  information  from  Newburg : 

One  of  our  most  thickly  inhabited  streets  ha^  had  a  caae  of  varioloid. 

A  contemporary  in  reproducing  this  blunder  says  seriously 
enough : 

Such  news  should  make  other  localities  careful  about  vaccination. 

In  a  recent  number  of  a  fashionable  morning  paper  there  is  a 
paragraph  headed,  **  A  Dangerous  Cow,"  of  which  it  is  said  not 
only  that  it  tossed  several  persons,  but  that  "it  plunged  and  tossed 
about  the  street  in  a  formidable  manner." — Moon. 

A  story  is  told  of  an  Englishman  who  landed  at  Dublin,  filled  with  apprehension  that 
the  life  of  any  loyal  subject  of  her  Majesty  was  not  worth  a  farthing  there  and  there- 
abouts. The  Land  Leafruers,  he  imagined,  were  all  bloodthirsty  assassins,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.  But  it  was  his  duty  to  travel  in  the  land— a  duty  he  approached  with  fear 
and  trembling.  Now  there  happened  to  be  on  his  route  a  number  of  towns  the  names  of 
which  begin  with  the  sujrgestive  syllable  "Kil."  They  were  Kilmartin,  and  so  on.  In 
his  ignorance  of  geographical  nomenclature,  his  affrighted  senses  were  startled  anew  on 
hearing  a  fellow  passenger  in  a  railway  carriage  remark  to  another  as  follows :  "  I'm  just 
afther  bein'  over  to  Kilpatrick."  "  And  I,"  replied  the  other,  "am  afther  bein'  over  to 
Kilmnrj-."  •'  What  murderers  they  are  !  "  thought  the  Ensflishman  :  "  and  to  think  that 
they  talk  of  their  assassinations  so  publicly!"  But  the  conversation  went  on.  "And 
phare  are  ye  goin'  now  *  "  asked  assassin  No.  1.  "  I'm  goin'  home,  and  then  to  Kilmore." 
was  No.  ys  reply.  The  Englishman's  blood  curdled.  "Kilmore,  is  it?"  added  No.  1. 
•'  You'd  betther  be  comin'  along  wud  me  to  Kilumalle  !  "  It  is  relate«l  that  the  English- 
man left  the  train  at  the  next  station. 

Constructions  must  be  avoided  that  make  it  difRcnlt  to 
determine  which  of  two  parts  of  speech  a  word  is,  or  what 


Chap.  XXI.]  AMBIGUITY.  431 

relation  it  bears  to  the  rest  of  the  sentence.  See  pages 
oil,  414.  Thus,  on  page  191,  "dreams"  may  be  eitlier  a 
verb  or  a  noun.  The  ambiguity  is  removed  by  substi- 
tuting "  to  dream,"  for  "  and  dreams." 

Care  to  avoid  ambiguity  from  collocation  must  extend 
even  to  the  possibility  of  mispronunciation. 

Once  when  Edwin  Forrest  was  playing  "  William  Tell"  in  Bos- 
ton, Sdniem,  Gesler's  lieutenant,  should  have  remarked  :  "I  see 
yon  love  a  jest,  but  jest  not  now."  Imagine  Forrest's  feelings  when 
that  worthy  declaimed  :  "I  see  you  love  a  jest,  but  not  jest  now." 

Lady  (engaging  footman)  :  "  You  are  clever  at  table  ?  "  Jeames 
•'  Yes,  ma'am."    Lady  :  "  And  you  know  your  way  to  announce  ?  " 
Joanies :  **  Well,  ma'am,  I  know  my  weight  to  a  iK)und  or  so,  but 
I  hardly  like  to  say  to  im  ounce.'' — Funny  Folks. 

Some  special  words  are  so  liable  to  produce  am- 
biguity that  they  should  be  scrutinized  in  re-reading  a 
composition. 

Any,  when  not  modified  by  a  negative,  means  "  any  you  like," 
Le.f  "every;"  but  "not  any"  instead  of  meaning  "not  every" 
means  *•  not  a  single  one."  Hence,  when  the  negative  is  carelessly 
placed,  any  becomes  ambiguous,  because  we  cannot  tell  whether 
it  means  erery,  or  one,  e.g.  : 

No  |M>r»on  iihall  <icrive  any  boncflt  from  thin  rule  who  hu  not  b«en  cngHKod  for  mt  least 
flre  yeani  to  a  honac  of  bOAinem  employing  not  \em  than  a  hundred  clerkh  at  nnv  tima. 

This  ought  to  mean,  "  employing  at  no  time  less  than  a  hun- 
dred clerks  ;  "  but  any  in  such  cases  is  often  confused  with  some. 
.\gain,  in 

I  cannot  belie vp  anyUUng  you  ny, 
and 

I  cannot  iM>lievc  anythma  yon  chooae  toaay, 

anything  means,  in  the  first  case,  '*  a  single  thing,"  in  the  second 
case  "  everk-thing." 

It  is  quite  iin)M).sHiblc  to  determine,  without  fuller  context,  the 
meaning  of  the  word  any  in  such  a  sentence  as — 

I  am  DOC  booitd  U>  receive  any  mc«i«vnger  whom  ymi  may  aend. 


432  PRECISION.  [Part  IV. 

But  sometimes  causes  obscurity ;  and  since  it  may  mean,  ac- 
cording to  the  context,  ** except,"  or  "on  the  other  hand,"  or 
•*  only,"  must  be  very  carefully  handled. 

Am  for  the  falsehood  of  yoar  brother,  1  feel  no  doubt ;  but  wh*t  joa  wy  ia  tme. 
A»  for  the  falaehood  of  your  brother.  I  feel  uo  doabt  but  what  yoa  s»y  ix  true. 
I  expected  twelve ;  but  (either  oitiy  or  contrartf  to  my  eaepectcMon)  ten  came. 

The  following  is  perfectly  clear,  but  shows  the  possibility  oi 
ambiguity : — 

There'*  ne'er  a  Tillain  dwelling  in  all  Denmark 
But  he's  an  arrant  knave.— £/amie<.— Abbott. 

Nothing  less  than  is  another  phrase  susceptible  of 
opposite  interpretations.     Thus, 

He  aimed  at  nothing  less  than  the  crown, 

may  denote  either, 

Nothing  was  leai  aimed  at  by  him  than  the  crown, 
or, 

Nothing  inferior  to  the  crown  could  aatlsfy  his  ambition. 

All  such  phrases  ought  to  be  totally  laid  aside.— Campbell. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Precision. 

1.  The  icords  emplayed,  p.  399. 

Words  may  lack  precision  through : 

a.  The  confounding  of  synon^Tns,  p.  399. 

An  exteu.sive  vocabulary,  p.  401. 

The  choice  of  words,  p.  408. 
6.  The  use  of  equivocal  words,  p.  409. 
c.  The  use  of  general  words,  p.  410. 

2.  The  construction  J  p.  411. 

a.  Brevity,  p.  411. 

i.  Omission  of  necessary  words,  p.  411. 
ii.  Use  of  ambiguous  pronouns,  p.  413. 


3HAP.  XXL]  TOPICAL   ANALYSIS.  433 

A  genderless  personal  noun,  p.  416. 
The  use  of  "  one,"  p.  417. 
Reflexive  pronouns,  p.  417. 
b.  Redundance,  p.  418. 
c  Affectation,  p.  419. 
Bombast,  p.  421. 
Affected  humor,  p.  425. 
d.  Looseness  of  thought,  p.  426. 
Carelessness,  p.  42G. 
Collocation,  p.  427. 
Some  special  words,  p.  431. 
"Nothing  less  than,"  p.  432 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

PERSPICUITY. 

Out  of  the  relations  of  thonfcht  and  language,  and  the  speaker  to  the  hearer,  grow 
three  qualities  of  a  good  rtyle.  They  are  pcrspicaity,  energy,  and  elegance.  Perspicu- 
ity txpnmm  the  otoarnean  of  the  thought  to  the  iieroeKions  of  the  hearer.  Energy  ex- 
presses the  force  of  the  thought  to  the  Mensibilities  of  the  hearer.  Elegance  expresses 
the  beauty  of  the  thought  to  the  taste  of  the  hearer.— Phku>s. 

PuRiTi',  Propriety,  and  Precision  are  all  absolute  qual- 
ities. Perspicuity,  Power,  and  Perfection  are  relative 
(jualities,  dependent  upon  the  perception,  the  sensibilities, 
and  the  taste  of  the  reader. 

Precision  demands  that  the  sentence  say  what  the 
writer  means.  Perspicuity  demands,  further,  that  it  say 
what  the  writer  means  so  clearly  that  the  reader  cannot 
mistake  it.*  Whether  a  given  sentence  is  perspicuous 
depends  upon  who  is  to  read  it.  Herbert  Spencer's  defi- 
nition of  evolution  (see  page  357)  is  precise,  but  it  is  per- 
spicuous only  to  scientists.  The  fundamental  requirement 
of  perspicuity  is  adaptation  to  the  audience  addressed. 

"I  had  remarked  to  him  "  [Coleridge],  says  Mr.  De  Quincey, 
"that  the  sophism,  as  it  is  usually  called,  but  the  difficulty,  as  it 
should  be  called,  of  Achilles  and  the  Torioise,  which  had  puzzled 
all  the  sages  of  Greece,  was,  in  fact,  merely  another  form  of  the 
perplexity  which  besets  decimal  fractions ;  that,  for  example,  if 
you  threw  |  into  a  decimal  form,  it  ^s-ill  never  terminate,  but  be 
.666666,  etc.,  ad  infinitum.     '  Ye^,'  Coleridge  replied,  *  the  appar- 

•  Non  nt  intelligere  poesit,  sed  ne  omi:iiio  posdt  non  iutelligere  curandum.— QniN 

TILIAN. 


Cbap.  XXII.)  PBUSPICUITY.  435 

ent  absnrdlty  m  the  Grecian  problem  arises  thns, — because  it  as- 
Bumea  the  inonite  tlinsibility  of  space,  but  drops  out  of  view  the 
correHi)omling  intiuity  of  time.'  There  was  a  fla.sh  of  lightning, 
which  illuminated  a  darkness  that  had  existed  for  twenty-three 
centuries." 

Coleridge's  explanation  was  precise  ;  as  addressed  to  De 
Quincey  it  was  perspicuous ;  but  had  it  been  made  to  a 
class  in  a  primary  school  it  would  have  been  decidedly 
obscure. 

Universally,  indeed,  an  unpractised  writer  is  liable  to  be  misled 
by  his  own  knowledge  of  his  own  meaning  into  8upi)osiiig  those 
expressions  clearly  intelligible  whieh  are  so  to  him,  but  which  may 
not  be  80  to  the  reader,  whose  thoughts  are  not  in  the  same  train. 
And  hence  it  is  that  some  do  not  write  or  speak  with  so  much  per- 
spicuity on  a  subject  which  has  long  been  very  familiar  to  them, 
as  on  one  which  they  understand  indeed,  but  with  which  they  are 
less  intimately  accpiainted,  and  in  which  their  knowledge  has  been 
more  recently  ac(piired.  In  the  fonner  case  it  is  a  matter  of  some 
difficulty  to  keep  in  mind  the  necessity  of  carefully  and  copiously 
explaining  principles  wliieh  by  long  habit  have  come  to  assume, 
in  our  minds,  tlie  api)eftrance  of  self-evident  truths.  Utterly  in- 
correct, therefore,  is  Blair's  notion,  that  obscurity  of  style  neces- 
sarily springs  from  indistinctness  of  conception.  A  little  conversa- 
tion on  nautical  afTaii-s  with  sailors,  or  on  agriculture  with  farmers, 
would  soon  have  undeceived  him.— Wiiately. 

A  Government  surveyor  tells  of  a  western  pioneer  who  seemed 
interested  in  the  theodolite.  The  suneyor  explained  its  work- 
ing, and  found  the  pioneer  so  attentive  that  he  went  on  to  illus- 
trate the  variation  of  the  needle,  the  ^magnetic  currents,  the  pre- 
cession of  the  equinoxes,  and  finally  the  calculation  of  coming 
ecIiiMios,  congratulating  himself  ui)on  finding  so  intelligent  a 
listener.  Aft-er  two  hours  of  this,  the  ]Moneer  for  the  first  time 
broke  silence.  "  It's  wonderful,  wonderful,"  he  exclaimed.  •*  And 
nieblH)  you  can  show  me  another  thing  that's  always  bothered  me. 
Why  is  it  that  in  adding  up  figures,  you  have  to  cany  one  for 
eveiy  ton  ?  ** 


A36  PERSPICUITY.  [Part  IV 

Teachers  learn  to  measure  the  information  they  give  not  by 
what  they  tell  their  scholars,  but  by  what  their  scholars  t€ll  back 
to  them. 

It  in  agreed  among  all  writers  upon  rhetoric,  that  the  first  property  in  style  is  that  by 
virtue  of  which  it  is  intelligible.  The  understanding  is  the  aveooe  to  the  man.  No  one 
io  affected  by  truth  who  doe*  not  apprehend  it.  Diaooune  must,  therefore,  first  of  all,  be 
plain.  This  property  was  termed  ptr^teuUOM,  by  the  Latin  i  hetorictans.  It  is  trans 
paren«y  in  diaoourM.  as  the  e^molagy  denoCea  The  word  cvcpycia.  which  the  Greek 
rheiorloians  employed  to  mark  thla  mme  oharacteriatio;,  tignilles  distinctness  of  outline. 
The  adjective  iripyiK  is  applied  by  Honoer  to  the  goda,  when  actually  appenring  to  hu- 
man Tiaion  in  their  own  bright  forms :  when,  like  Apollo,  they  broke  through  the  dim 
ether  that  ordinarily  veiled  them  from  mortal  eyes,  and  stood  out  on  the  edge  of  the 
horiaon  distinctly  defined,  radiant,  and  splendid  (Od.  vii.  SUl,  2).  Vividness  seems  to 
have  been  the  ruling  conception  for  the  Greek,  in  this  property  of  style,  and  tranRparenoy 
for  the  Latin.  The  English  and  French  rhetoricians  have  transferred  the  I^tin  perapi- 
CHtUu,  to  designate  the  quality  of  intelligibility  in  diaoonrae.  The  Germans  have  not 
transferred  the  Latin  word,  beoauae  the  remarkable  flexibility  of  their  langiinge  relieves 
them  from  the  necessity  of  tranaferring  words  from  other  languages,  but  they  have 
coined  one  (DurchtiehUgkeU)  in  their  own  mint,  which  agrees  in  signification  precisely 
with  the  Latin  pertptcHUoM.  Theee  facta  evince  that  the  modern  mind  is  inclined,  with 
the  Latin,  to  ccMupare  the  property  of  intelligibility  of  style  to  a  clear  pellucid  medium ; 
to  CKyatal  or  gimm.  that  permits  the  rays  of  light  to  go  through,  and  thus  permits  the 
komaa  eye  to  see  through. 

While,  however,  the  attention  is  fixed  upon  this  conception  of  transparency,  and  the 
property  under  ctmsideration  is  denominated  perspicuity  in  the  rhetorical  nomenclature, 
it  is  important  not  to  loi«  sight  of  that  other  conception  of  distinctness,  or  vividneas, 
which  was  the  leading  one  for  the  Greek  mind.  Style  is  not  only  a  medium,  it  is  also  s 
form.  It  is  not  only  translucent  and  transparent,  like  the  undefined  and  all-pervading 
atmo<;phere  ;  it  also  has  definite  outlines,  like  a  single  object.  Style  is  not  only  clear, 
'like the  light;  it  is  rotund  lik3  the  sun.  While,  therefore,  the  conception  of  persptcuity 
of  medium  is  retained,  there  should  also  be  combined  with  it  the  conception  of  fulness  of 
outline,  and  vividness  of  impression,  so  as  to  secure  a  comprehensive  and  all-including 
idea  of  that  first  fundamental  quality  of  style  which  renders  it  intelligible- 
It  is  not  enough  that  thoughts  be  seen  through  a  clear  medium  ;  they  must  be  seen  in 
a  distinct  shape.  It  is  not  enough  that  truth  be  visible  in  a  clear,  pure  air ;  it  must  stand 
cut  in  that  air,  a  single,  well-defined  object.  The  atmosphere  most  not  only  be  crystal- 
line and  sparkling,  but  the  things  in  it  must  »)e  bounded  and  defined  by  sharply  cut  lines. 
There  may  be  perspicuity  without  distinctness,  especially  vrithout  that  vivid  distinctness 
which  is  implied  in  the  Greek  ivepyeta.  A  style  may  be  as  transparent  as  water,  and  yet 
the  thoughts  be  destitute  of  boldness  and  individuality.  Such  a  style  cannot  be  charged 
with  obscurity,  and  yet  it  does  not  set  truth  before  the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer 
in  a  striking  or  fmpressive  manner.  Meie  isolated  perspictaity  is  a  negative  quality  ;  it 
furnishes  a  good  m»»dium  of  vision,  but  it  does  not  present  any  distinct  objects  of  vision. 
Distinctness  of  outline,  on  the  other  hand,  is  a  positive  quality.  It  implies  a  vigorous 
action  of  the  mind  upon  the  truth,  whereby  it  i.s  moulded  and  Rhai)ed  :  whereby  it  is  cut 
and  chiselled  like  a  statue;  whereby  it  is  made  to  assume  a  substantial  and  well-defined 
form  which  smites  upon  the  eye.  and  which  the  eye  can  take  in.— Shedd. 

"  Our  laneruage,"  says  Quintilian,  "ought  to  convey  our  meaning  so  clearly  that  the 
meaning  shall  fall  on  the  hearers'  minds  as  the  sunlight  falls  on  our  eyes."    But  the  sun- 


Cdap.  XXII.]  SIMPLICITY.  437 

shine  of  winter  w  col«1  ami  barren,  although  its  radiance  ifl  brightened  by  the  traniipar- 
•ncy  of  the  air  and  the  reflections  of  the  ice  and  t-now.  The  snmmers  snn  has  le«s  bril- 
liancy indeed,  bat  far  more  heat  u  heat  that  causes  blue  vapors  u>  veil  the  distant  hills 
and  (diver  mists  to  wreath  the  green  mountains,  that  gathem  ^torm-clouds  whicli  darken 
th*  earth  and  sky  and  discharge  such  Tolleja  of  lightning  as  render  that  darkneas  all  the 
man  appalling.— Hkbtxt. 

Simplicity  is  a  prime  essential  to  Perspicuity,  and 
should  be  aimed  at  both  (i)  in  Thought,  and  (ii)  in  Ex- 
pression. 

(I.)  Thought  is  Simple  when  it  is  direct,  straight- 
forward, intent  solely  on  the  truth  concerned,  and  its 
clearest  expression.  (See  pages  346,  347,  348.)  Mozart 
gave  as  his  reasons  for  marrying :  "  I  wish  to  marry 
because  I  have  no  one  to  take  care  of  my  linen  ;  because 
I  cannot  live  like  the  dissolute  men  around  me ;  and  be- 
cause I  love  Catharine  Weber." 

Cultivate  simplicity,  Coleridge ;  or  rather,  I  shonld  say,  banish 
elaborateness  ;  for  simplicity  springs  spontaneous  from  the  heart, 
and  carries  into  daylight  its  own  modest  buds,  and  genuine,  sweet, 
and  clear  flowers  of  expression.  I  allow  no  hot-beds  m  the  gar- 
dens of  Parnassus.  — C.  Lamb. 

Youthful  vanity  and  inexperience  alone  sufficiently  account  for 
the  g^eat  part  of  the  deviations  from  propriety,  simplicity,  and 
common  sense  now  alluded  to.  Those  who  laud  nature  in  oppo- 
sition to  art  are  too  apt  to  forget  that  this  very  vanity  forms  a  jwirt 
of  it.  .  .  .  While  some  men  talk  as  if  to  speak  naturally  were 
to  speak  like  a  natural,  others  talk  as  if  to  sjieak  with  simplicity 
meant  to  speak  like  a  simpleton.  True  simplicity  does  not  con- 
sist in  what  is  trite,  bald,  or  commonplace.  So  far  as  regards  the 
thought  it  means,  not  what  is  already  obvious  to  everybody,  but 
what,  though  not  obvious,  is  immediately  recognized,  as  soon  as 
propounded,  to  be  true  and  striking.  As  it  regards  the  expression, 
it  means  that  thoughts  worth  hearing  are  expressed  in  language 
that  every  one  can  understand.  In  the  first  point  of  view  it  is 
opposed  to  what  is  abstruse ;  in  the  second,  to  what  is  obscure. — 
Whatet^t. 

I .  Conceive  of  things  clearly  and  distinctly  in  their 


438  PERSPICUITY.  [Pakt  IV. 

own  natures.  2.  Conceive  of  things  conqiletely  in  all 
their  parts.  3.  Conceive  of  things  coniprehensively  in  all 
their  properties  and  relations.  4.  Conceive  of  things  ex- 
tensively in  all  their  kinds.  5.  Conceive  of  things  orderly, 
or  in  a  proper  method. — Watts. 

I  cannot  conclude  this  lectare  without  insisting  on  the  impor^ 
tance  of  accuracy  of  style  as  being  near  akin  to  veracity  and  truth- 
ful habits  of  mind;  he  who  thinks  loosely  will  write  loosely.— 

COLERIDOE. 

Propriety  of  thought  and  propriety  of  diction  are  commaiily 
found  together.  Obscurity  and  affectation  are  the  two  greatest 
faults  of  style.  Obscurity  of  expression  generally  springs  froLi 
confusion  of  ideas ;  and  the  same  wish  to  dazzle  at  any  cost  which 
produces  affectation  in  the  manner  of  a  writer,  is  likely  to  prodwce 
sophistry  in  his  reasonings. — MacauiiAT. 

One  would  indeed  think  it  hardly  pomible  that  a  man  of  sense  who  perfectly  nnder- 
Rtandeth  the  language  which  he  aneth  should  erer  speak  or  write  in  such  a  manner  an  to 
be  altofrether  unintelligible.  Yet  this  is  what  frequently  happens.  The  cauw  of  this 
fault  in  any  writer  I  take  to  be  always  cne  or  uther  of  the  three  following :  first,  great 
confusion  of  thought,  which  is  commonly  accompanied  with  intricacy  in  the  expression  ; 
secondly,  affectation  of  excellence  in  the  diction  ;  thirdly,  a  total  want  of  meaning.  I  do 
not  mention  as  one  of  the  causes  of  this  imputation  a  penury  of  language  :  though  this, 
doubtless,  may  contribute  to  produce  it.  In  fact  I  never  found  one  who  had  a  justness 
of  appreciation,  and  was  free  from  affectation,  at  a  loss  to  make  himself  understooi  in  his 
native  tongue,  even  though  he  had  little  command  of  language,  and  made  but  a  bad 
choice  of  words.— Campbell. 

Titles  often  mislead  through  affectation  of  qiiaintness. 

Unfortunately,  writers  are  not  careful  in  their  choice  of  names, 
and  titles  are  occasionally  adopted  which,  instead  of  explaining 
the  nature  of  the  book,  serve  only  to  mislead  the  buyer.  Mr,  Ras- 
kin, who  is  noted  for  such  unintelligible  titles  as  "  Fors  Cla^dgera  " 
and  "  Sesame  and  Lilies,"  issued  a  theological  discoui-se  under  the 
name  of  *' A  Treatise  on  Sheepfolds,"  thus  leading  a.stray  many 
librarians  and  indexers,  as  well  as  imsnspecting  fanners  and  shep- 
herds. The  "Diversions  of  Purley,"  at  the  time  of  its  publication, 
was  ordered  by  a  village  book-club  under  the  impression  that  it 
was  a  book  of  amusing  games.  The  "  Essay  on  Irish  Bulls  '*  was 
another  work  which  was  thought  by  some  folks  to  deal  with  live 


Chap.  XXILJ  SIMPLICITY.  439 

stock.  ••  Moths,**  a  novel  by  Ouida,  has  been  asked  for  under  the 
impression  that  it  was  an  entomological  work,  and  Charles  Kings- 
ley's  "Yeast,"  by  those  in  search  of  information  on  the  Torula 
cerevisicPt  or  yeast-plant.  Coleridge's  **  Ancient  Mariner  "  was  sold 
largely  to  seafaring  men,  who  concluded  from  the  name  that  it 
had  some  relation  to  nautical  matters.     Coleridge  himself  says : 

It  is  somewhat  singular  that  the  name  of  another  and  larger  book  of  Mr.  Wordsworth's 
should  also  owe  its  drcolation  to  a  mibconccptiuu  of  the  title.  It  has  been  my  fortune  to 
hare  met  with  *'  The  Excursion  *^  at  a  great  number  of  inns  and  boarding-houseH  in  pic- 
ttureeqae  soenes— in  places  where  parties  go  for  excunions ;  and  upon  inciuiry  bow  it  hap- 
pened that  so  expensive  a  book  was  purchased,  when  an  old  Universal  Jfagaaine,  an 
"  Athenian  Oracle,"  or,  at  best,  one  of  the  "  Bridgewatcr  Treatises,"  would  do  as  well  to 
send  the  guests  to  sleep— 1  was  given  to  nnderrtand  in  those  separate  places  that  they 
were  left  by  parties  who  had  flnisheil  their  material  excuroion,  but,  ala8  for  their  taste, 
had  left  their  poetic  "  Excursion  *'  untouched — uncut,  even,  beyond  the  story  of  "  ICar- 
gtnt.'"— Chambers' $  Joitmal. 

(ii.)  Expression  is  Simple  when  it  expresses  the 
thought  in  the  most  direct  and  obvious  words.  "Think 
witli  the  learned,  speak  with  the  vulgar,"  says  Bacon. 

"  There  are  six  little  ones  who  call  General  Grant 
*  grandpa,' "  was  a  recent  newspaper  paragraph.  This  was 
in  the  first  place  untrue,  the  counting  of  the  grandchildren 
having  been  suggested  by  the  birth  of  the  sixth,  who  at 
this  time  did  not  call  anybody  anything.  But  on  general 
principles  the  paragraph  would  be  more  perspicuous  and 
more  forcible  if  it  read  simply,  "  General  Grant  has  six 
grandchildren." 

Tlie  whole  merit  of  violent  deviations  from  common  style  de- 
pends upon  their  rarity,  and  nothing  does  for  ten  pages  together 
but  the  indicative  mood.— Sydney  Sxuth. 

If  you  take  Sophocles,  Catullus,  Lucretius,  and  the  better 
parts  of  Cicero,  and  so  on,  you  may,  with  just  two  or  three  excep- 
tions, arising  out  of  the  different  idioms  as  to  cases,  translate  page 
after  page  into  good  mother  English,  word  by  word,  without 
altering  the  order;  but  you  cannot  do  so  with  Virgil  or  Tibullus. 
If  you  attempt  it  you  will  make  nonsense.— Colertdoe. 

Tlie  writings  of  Addison  and  Dr.  Johnson  have  often  been  com- 
pared.   One  of  the  chief  points  of  contrast  in  their  style  lies,  I 


440  PERSPICUITY.  [Part  IV. 

apprehend,  in  the  easy  and  natural  recurrence  in  the  former  of  the 
verb,  and  the  artificial  preponderance  given  in  the  latter  to  the 
noun.  Since  Dr.  Johnson's  time  the  substantive  has  been  gaining 
ground ;  the  infinitive  mood,  the  gerund,  and  the  compound  par- 
ticiple have  been  in  the  same  proportion  suppressed  in  many 
works  of  which  the  composition  is  highly  elaborate.  As  ftu*  as  un- 
studied writings  can  be  expressed  in  sot  phrases,  the  usurpation 
has  extended  even  to  these. — HaiiL. 


Dr.  Allen  wm  pnaddaff  <nm  dtij  la  Tenm— a,  wImh  aa  old  Methodiai  African  cam* 
to  him  aft«r  the  ■eimon,  and  aald,  '*  I  like  to  hear  yon  preach,  for  I  ondentand  your 
preaching.**  Dr.  Allen  replied,  '*  I  am  glad  of  It."  **  Bat  I  understand  every  word  you 
Bay.**  "  I  hope  ao,**  aaid  the  dergyman,  *'  for  I  try  to  make  myself  understood."  Again 
the  man  came  to  the  charge.  *'  Yea,**  be  laid,  **  I  nnderetand  yon  jee*  as  well  as  if  yoa 
was  a  nigger." 

Periodic  Structure  of  sentences  often  makes  the 
meaning  clearer,  but  when  habitual  or  excessive  becomes 
tedious. 

The  period  is  a  structure  in  which  the  completion  of  the  sense 
is  suspended  till  the  close.  The  ancient  rhetoricians  compared  it 
to  a  sling,  from  which  the  stone  is  ejected  after  many  circuits.  A 
loose  sentence  is  one  in  which  the  end  might  grammatically  occur 
before  the  close.  Such  a  sentence  is  a  chain,  from  which  a  link 
may  be  dropped  from  the  end,  and  it  will  still  be  a  chain,  and  ^ill 
have  an  end.  The  periodic  structure  is  a  glass  ball ;  to  part  with 
a  fragment  of  it  is  to  ruin  the  whole. — Phelps. 

All  of  these  are  instances  also  of  perfect  antithesis  without  pe- 
riod ;  for  each  of  these  sentences  might  grammatically  be  con- 
cluded in  the  middle.  So  also,  "  It  is  (indeed)  a  just  maxim  that 
honesty  is  the  best  policy  ;  but  he  who  is  governed  by  that  maxim 
is  not  an  honest  man."  This  antithetical  sentence  is  or  is  not  a 
period,  according  as  the  word  '*  indeed  "  is  inserted  or  omitted. — 
Whatelt. 

John  Morley,  in  writing  of  Cobden's  style,  says  that 
classical  training  is  more  aptly  calculated  to  destroy  the 
qualities  of  good  writing  and  fine  speaking  than  any  other 
system  that  could  have  been  contrived.  He  refers  to  the 
excessive  use  of  the  periodic  structure ;  but  much  as  the 


Chap.  XXIL]  PARENTHESES.  441 

period  is  to  be  coDdemned  where  the  meanhig  might  as 
well  have  been  expressed  by  short  sentences,  it  is  indis- 
pensable to  perspicuity  when  the  thought  is  complex. 

The  following  is  an  example  of  the  period : — 

Compelled  by  want  to  attendance  and  solicitation,  and  »o  mnch  vfiraed  in  common 
life,  that  he  has  tranbmitted  to  us  the  most  perfect  delineation  of  the  manners  of  his 
age,  Erasmus  joirid  to  his  knowledge  of  the  world  aitch  application  to  books,  that  he 
will  stand  for  ever  in  the  first  rank  of  literary  heroes. 

The  words  on  which  the  thread  of  the  sentence  is  suspended 
are  printed  in  italics.  The  introductory  clauses,  '*  CJompelled 
.  .  .  age,"  are  obviously  attributive,  and  lead  us  to  expect  a 
subject  to  which  they  relate.  "We  find  that  subject  in  "  Erasmus." 
The  latter  part  of  the  sentence  is  held  together  by  the  correlative 
particles  "  such  "  and  "  that." 

The  following  illustrates  the  loose  construction  : — 

It  is  in  vain  to  say  that  the  portraits  which  exist  of  this  remarkable  woman  are  not 
like  each  other ;  for,  amidst  their  discrcjmncy,  each  poascsses  general  features  which 
the  eye  at  once  acknowledges  as  peculiar  to  the  vision,  tehich  our  imaKination  has  raised, 
wkUe  we  read  her  history  for  the  first  time,  and  which  has  been  impressed  upon  it  by 
tiw  numeroaB  printn  and  pictures  which  we  have  seen. 

This  sentence  is  not  only  loose,  but  viciously  so.  In  the  second 
member  of  it,  the  main  assertion  ends  with  "  features."  To  this 
word,  two  of  the  remaining  clauses  are  clumsily  attached  by 
"which,"  and  each  of  these  has  another  "tM/c/i"  clause  attached 
to  it,  one  of  them  being  still  further  prolonged  by  the  clause  be- 
ginning with  **  trAtfe." 

Re-write  this  sentence  in  ixjriodic  form. 

Parentheses  should  be  avoided  except  when  they 
express  a  thought  more  completely  without  clogging  it. 
For  many  illustrations,  see  pages  271-274. 

Some  critics  have  been  so  strongly  ])erKuade<l  of  the  bad  effects 
of  parentheses  on  perspionity  as  to  think  they  ought  to  l>e  dis- 
canlod  altogether.  But  this  I  imagine  is  also  an  extreme.  If  the 
I)art>nthe8is  Im»  short,  and  if  it  be  iiitrcnluced  in  a  proi)er  place,  it 
will  not  in  thc>  least  hurt  the  cltMUiiess,  and  may  add  both  to  the 
vivacity  and  to  the  energy  of  the  sentence. — Oajipbell. 


^2  PERSPICUITY.  [Part  IV. 

"  I  Sat." — ^A  very  bail  sentence  this ;  into  which,  by  the  help  of 
a  parenthesis  and  other  interjected  circumstances,  his  lordship 
has  contrived  to  thrust  so  many  things  that  he  is  forced  to  begin 
the  consti-uction  again  with  the  phrase  /  mi/,  which,  whenever  it 
occurs,  may  be  always  assumed  as  a  sure  mark  of  a  clumsily  ill- 
constmcted  sentence ;  excusable  in  speaking,  where  the  greatest 
accuracy  is  not  expected,  but  in  polished  writing  unpardonable. — 
Blair. 

Excessive  Simplicity  seems  at  first  an  impossi- 
bility, but  there  are  certain  considerations  worthy  of  at- 
tention. 

(a)  Simjdiciti/  mu^t  not  he  Affected, — Simple  language 
is  to  be  chosen,  not  because  it  is  simple,  but  because  it 
best  expresses  the  meaning.  To  assume  unnatural  sim- 
plicity under  the  impression  that  simplicity  in  itself  is  an 
ornament,  and  because  it  is  thought  to  be  an  ornament,  is 
more  ridiculous  than  the  affectation  of  elegance. 

Observations  should  not  be  proposed  in  scholastic  style,  nor 
in  commonplace  guise.  They  should  be  seasoned  ^\-ith  a  sweet  ur- 
banity, accommodated  to  the  capacities  of  the  people,  and  adapted 
to  the  manners  of  good  men.  One  of  the  best  expedients  for  this 
purpose  is  a  reduction  of  obscure  matters  to  a  natural,  popular, 
modem  air.  You  can  never  attain  this  ability  unless  you  acquire 
a  habit  of  conceiving  clearly  of  subjects  yourself,  and  of  expressing 
them  in  a  free,  familiar,  easy  manner,  remote  from  everything 
forced  and  far-fetched.  All  long  trains  of  arguments,  all  embar- 
rassments of  divisions  and  subdivisions,  all  metaphysical  investi- 
gations, which  are  mostly  impertinent,  and,  like  the  fields,  the 
cities,  and  the  houses  which  we  imagine  in  the  clouds,  the  mere 
creatures  of  fancy — all  these  should  be  avoided. 

Care  must  be  taken,  however,  to  avoid  the  opposite  extreme, 
which  consists  in  making  only  poor,  dry,  spiiitless  observations, 
frequently  said  under  pretence  of  avoiding  scliool-divinity,  and  of 
speaking  only  popular  things.  Endeavor  to  think  clearly,  and  try 
also  to  think  nobly.  Let  your  observations  be  replete  with 
beauty  as  well  as  propriety,  the  fmits  of  a  tine  fancy  under  the 


Chap.  XXII.]  SIMPLICITY.  443 

direction  of  a  sober  jndgment.  If  you  be  inattentive  to  this  ar- 
ticle, you  will  pass  for  a  contemptible  declaimer,  of  mean  and 
shallow  cajmcity,  exhausting  yourself  and  not  edifying  your  hear- 
ers ;  a  very  ridiculous  character. — Claude. 

WonJsworth'8  weak  side,  as  a  poet,  was  hU  great  difficulty  in  perceiving  when  he  had 
ami  when  ho  had  not  Kuccceiletl  tn  fusing  the  langunge  which  ho  used  with  the  fire  of  his 
own  meditative  iiassiun.  Sometimes  in  the  midst  of  a  passage  of  the  truest  rapture,  he 
will  descend  suddenly  uiK>n  a  little  bit  of  dry,  hard  fact,  and  not  be  at  all  aware  that  the 
fact  remain?  like  an  irregular,  unlovely  stone  pressing  down  u  group  of  flowers,  a  raona- 
mentof  the  sudden  failure  of  the  power  of  his  emotion  over  his  language.  Thus,  in  the 
lovely  lines,  '*  She  was  a  phahtoin  of  delight,*'  the  reader  is  suddenly  oppressed  by  being 
told  that  the  poet  at  last  sees,  "  with  eye  serene,  the  very  pulse  of  the  machine," — as  if  a 
phantom  of  delight  could  possibly  hiivc  been  a  machine,  or  even,  like  a  waxwork  figure, 
contained  one.  There  is  the  same  fault  in  one  of  the  finest  of  the  original  '*  Lyrical  Bal- 
lada,**— the  one  called  "  The  Thorn,"  of  which  Mrs.  Oliphant,  by  the  way,  who  does  not 
■eem  to  have  written  with  a  copy  of  the  "  Lyrical  Ballads  "  before  her,  makes  no  men- 
tion, but  which  Lord  Jeffrey  epitomized,  if  we  remember  rightly,  as  describing  how  a 
woman  in  a  red  cloak  went  up  to  thu  top  of  a  hill  and  said,  "  Oh,  misery  1 "  and  then 
oame  down  again.  The  greater  part  of  the  ballad.  L^rd  JefTrey  '*  to  the  contrary  in  auy- 
wlae  notwithatanding,''  as  the  lawyers  say,  is  i)cnctrated  through  and  through  by  the 
moat  geooine  imaginative  pasaion  ;  but  when,  in  the  form  in  which  the  ixxsm  originally 
i^tpeued,  Wordsworth  apooifled  the  dimensions  of  the  little  muddy  pool  by  the  infant's 
BraTe— 

Fve  measured  it  from  side  to  side; 

'Tis  three  feet  long  and  two  feet  wide, 
he  suddenly  precipitated,  as  it  were,  into  the  midst  of  his  |ioem  a  little  deposit  of  ngly 
clay,  which  made  his  readers  change  the  sob  which  the  finer  parts  of  the  ballad  excited 
Into  a  hysterical  giggle.  Wonlsworth's  weakness— es|)eci ally  in  the  earlier  part  of  hia 
oureer  as  a  poet— was  this,  that  he  never  knew  hotv  far  bis  imagination  had  tranimnted, 
or  bad  failed  to  transmute,  the  rough  clay  of  rude  circumsUnces  into  the  material  of 
plaatic  art.  Ue  was  not  awakened  from  his  dream  by  such  a  de«;ccnt  as  we  have  just 
quoted,  and  he  did  not  know  that  his  readers,  who  did  not  fully  enter  into  his  ecstasy, 
and  probably  did  we,  what  Wordsworth  ooald  not  see,  the  lodicroua  oontrasta  and  ine- 
qnalitiea  of  bit  mood,  woold  be  awakened  from  their  dream  by  these  shocks.— 7%«  Spec- 
tator. 

(b)  SivipUcUy  must  never  seem  a  Condescension. — Not 
men  alone,  but  children  as  well,  resent  the  impntation 
that  it  is  necessary  to  adapt  one's  thoughts  and  vocabulary 
to  their  ignorance. 

It  is  a  just  and  curious  observation  of  Dr.  Kenrick  that  *'  the 
case  of  languages,  or  rather  speech,  being  quite  contrary  to  that 
of  science,  in  the  former  the  ignorant  understand  the  h^arned 
better  than  the  learned  do  the  ignorant,  in  the  latter  it  is  other- 
wise.*' — Oamfbkll. 


444  PERSPICUITY.  [Part  IV. 

The  style  of  a  sermon  mav,  like  the  stars,  be  at  once  very  clear 
and  very  lofty ;  while  the  peasant  derives  from  the  stars  rules  for 
farming  and  the  mariner  for  sailing,  the  mathematician  equally 
draws  thence  the  principles  that  guide  him  in  his  astronomical 
calculations.  The  former,  unable,  it  may  be,  either  to  read  or 
write,  can  nevertheless  apprehend  the  stars  as  far  as  is  necessary 
for  him  ;  the  latter,  in  spite  of  all  his  scientific  knowledge,  is  very 
far  from  comprehending  all  the  stellar  universe. — Antonio  Vie- 

TERA. 

So  far  as  it  is  meant  to  gain  favor  by  patronizing,  sim- 
plicity, like  other  affectations,  fails  of  its  end  ;  for  there  is 
in  ignorant  minds  a  not  wholly  unreasonable  fondness  for 
thoughts  they  have  to  grope  after.  Part  of  Rufus 
Choate's  power  over  juries  lay  in  the  delicious  iiidefinite- 
ness  of  his  style,  which  made  the  unlearned  feel  there 
was  much  to  admire,  and  would  be  much  to  convince  if 
they  could  only  understand  it. 

It  must  be  accepted  as  a  fact  (and  we  commend  it  to  the  atten- 
tion of  those  who  cherish  romantic  notions  of  human  nature),  that 
the  more  weak  and  ignorant  men  are,  the  less  inchned  they  are  to 
receive  instraction,  unless  it  is  in  somewise  concealed,  or  made  to 
pass  under  another  name.  In  proof  of  this  we  need  only  mention 
the  incessant  return  of  the  phrase  *'  you  know  "  in  talk  and  cor- 
respondence. — Hervey. 

A  clergyman  in  the  country  had  a  stranger  preaching  for  him 
one  day,  and  meeting  his  sexton  asked,  "Well,  Saunders,  how  did 
you  like  the  sermon  to-day?"  "It  was  i-ather  ower  plain  and 
simple  for  me.  I  like  thae  sermons  best  that  jumbles  the  joodg- 
ment  and  confounds  the  sense.  Ah,  sir,  I  never  saw  one  that  could 
come  up  to  yoursel'  at  that." 

The  ultra-practical  Francis  de  Sales,  after  hearing  from  another 
in  his  own  pulpit  a  sublime  sermon  that  greatly  delighted  his 
mountaineers,  asked  some  of  them  what  they  had  gained  from  it. 
One  of  them  replied  :  * '  This  preacher  teaches  us  to  esteem  more 
highly  the  grandeur  of  the  mysteries  of  oui'  religion."    De  Sales 


Chap.  XXII.]  SIMPLICITY.  445 

was  forced  to  admit  that  this  man,  at  least,  had  profited  by  the 
sermon. 

Richard  Baxter,  no  mean  example  for  religious  teachers  and 
oatechisers,  purposely  threw  out  some  things  in  his  sermons  that 
were  beyond  the  comprehension  of  his  hearers,  in  order  that  they 
might  learn  to  be  dissatisfied  with  their  existing  stock  of  Christian 
knowledge.  '*  Wherefore,"  says  Chrysostom  in  one  of  his  homilies, 
**  have  I  presented  this  difficulty  and  not  appended  its  solution  ?  " 
He  replies  that  herein  he  proceeds  like  doves,  which,  as  long  as 
their  young  remain  in  the  nest,  feed  them  from  their  own  bills  ; 
but  as  soon  as  they  are  fledged  and  leave  the  nest,  the  mother 
lets  food  fall  upon  the  earth,  and  the  little  ones  pick  it  up. — 
Hebyet. 

The  more  simple,  clear,  and  obvions  any  principle  is  rendered,  the  more  likely  if  ita 
•xposition  to  elicit  these  common  remarks :  ''Of  coarse  I  of  court<e  I  no  one  could  ever 
doubt  that ;  this  ia  all  very  true,  but  there  is  nothing  new  brought  to  light ;  nothing  that 
wai*  not  familiar  to  every  one ;  there  needs  no  ghost  to  tell  us  that."  I  am  convinced 
that  a  verboM,  mystical,  and  partially  obf<cure  way  of  writing  on  such  a  subject  is  the  most 
likely  to  catch  the  attention  of  the  multitude.  The  generality  verify  the  observation  of 
Tacitus,  omne  tgnotum  pro  magniflco,  and  when  anything  ia  made  very  plain  to  them 
are  apt  to  fancy  that  they  know  it  already.— Colk&idqk. 

SiMFLicrrr  vs.  TRrrENESS. — If  you  entertain  your  reader  solely 
or  chiefly  with  thoughts  that  are  either  trit^  or  obvious,  you  can- 
not fail  to  tire  him.  You  introduce  few  or  no  new  sentiments  into 
his  mind,  you  give  him  little  or  no  infoimation,  and  consequently 
afford  neither  exercise  to  his  reason  nor  entertainment  to  his 
fancy.  In  what  we  read  and  wliat  we  hear,  we  always  seek  for 
something  in  one  respect  or  other  new,  which  we  did  not  know,  or 
at  least  attend  to  before.  The  less  we  find  of  this,  the  sooner  we 
are  tired.  Such  a  trifling  minuteness,  therefore,  in  narration, 
description,  or  argument,  as  an  ordinary  apprehension  would 
render  KUi>erflnous,  is  apt  quickly  to  disgust  us.  The  reason  is, 
not  because  anything  is  said  too  ijerspicuously,  but  because  many 
things  are  said  which  ought  not  to  be  said  at  all.  Nay,  if  those 
very  things  had  been  expressed  obscurely  (and  the  most  obvious 
things  may  be  expressed  obscurely),  the  fault  would  have  been 
much  g^reater ;  because  it  would  have  required  a  good  deal  of  at- 
tention to  discover  what,  after  we  had  discovered  it,  we  should 
perceive  not  to  be  of  suflicient  \'alae  for  requiting  our  pains.    To 


446  PERSPICUITY.  [Part  IV. 

an  author  of  this  kind  we  bIiouUI  be  apt  to  apply  the  character 
which  Bassanio  in  the  phiy  gives  of  GrtUiano's  conversation  : 

He  speaks  sn  infinite  deal  of  nothing.  His  raisons  are  as  two  grains  of  wheat  hid  in 
two  bushels  of  chaff :  jroa  shall  seek  all  day  ere  yoa  And  them,  and  when  yon  have  them 
they  aru  nut  worth  the  search. — McrdkatU  nf  VttUct, 

It  is  therefore  futility  in  the  thought,  and  not  iHjrspicuity  in  the 
language,  which  is  the  fault  of  such  performances.  There  is  as 
little  hazard  that  a  piece  shall  be  faulty  in  this  respect,  as  that  a 
mirror  shall  be  too  faithful  in  reflecting  the  images  of  objects,  or 
that  the  glasses  of  a  teleseoi>e  shall  be  too  transparent. 

At  the  same  time  it  is  not  to  be  dissembled  that  \iith  inatten- 
tive readers,  a  pretty  numerous  class,  darkness  frequently  passes 
for  depth.  To  be  perspicuous,  on  the  contrary,  and  to  be  super- 
ficial, are  regarded  by  them  as  synonymous.  But  it  is  not  surely 
to  their  absurd  notions  that  our  language  ought  to  be  adapted. — 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Perspicuity. 

Simplicity  essential  to  perspicuity,  p.  437. 

i.   Stinfliritii  ill  f/i»inj/it,  j).  4'.i7. 

1.  Things  should  be  conceived  clearly,  437. 

2.  '*  "  '*  completely,  p.  438. 

3.  "  **  "  comprehensively,  p.  438. 

4.  "  '*  "  extensively,  p.  438. 

5.  '*  '*  '*  orderly,  p.  438. 
Titles,  p.  438. 

ii.  JStmjdinty  in  expression ,  p.  439. 
Periodic  structure,  p.  440. 
Parenthest'S,  p.  441. 
Excessive  simplicity,  442. 

a.  Simplicity  must  not  be  affected,  p.  442. 

b.  ''  must  never  seem  a  condescension,  p.  443 
Simplicity  t$.  Triteness,  p.  445. 


CHAPTER  XXm. 

POWER. 

Power  (often  known  as  Energy,  Strength,  Force)  is 
that  quality  of  style  which  makes  it  impressive.  Pre- 
cision and  Pei*spiciiity  make  the  reader  know  wliat  is 
meant ;  Power  makes  him  feel  what  is  meant.  Precision 
and  Perspicuity  make  the  hearer  know  what  he  ought  to 
do ;  Power  makes  him  resolve  to  do  it. 

These  words,  which  have  their  synonyms  in  all  language — 
energy,  strength,  force,  vigor — do  certainly  express  an  idea  not 
otherwise  definable  than  by  Interchange  of  these  words.  They 
convey  an  idea  which  the  common  sense  of  men  never  confounds 
with  the  impressiveness  of  a  mathematical  theorem,  or  that  of  a 
bird  of  pai-adise,  or  that  of  the  tail  of  a  peacock.  These  words 
are  ultimate  in  all  languages  ;  so  that  we  cannot  add  to  their  sig- 
nificance, except  by  material  emblems.  We  can  only  say  that 
energy  is  a  peculiar  kind  of  impressiveness  ;  it  is  the  impressive- 
ness of  strength,  as  distinct  from  that  of  clearness  ;  it  is  the  im- 
pressiveness of  force,  as  distinct  from  that  of  beanty ;  it  is  the  im- 
pressiveness of  vigor,  as  distinct  from  that  of  vivacity. — Phelps. 

(I-)  In  Thought,  Power  is  dependent  chiefly  upon 
{a)  Sincerity,  and  [h)  Directness. 

(a)  Sincerity  combines  reality  of  conviction,  and 
earnestness  of  purpose,  with  freedom  from  unfairness  and 
from  dishonesty.  The  Latin  original  meant  "  without 
wax,"  and  was  applied  to  honey  that  was  just  what  it  pur- 
ported to  be.     In  speech  we  apply  the  word  when   one 


Chap.  XXIII.]  DIRECTNESS.  449 

BAys  what  he  means,  and  means  what  he  says.  Such 
utterance  always  commands  respect,  and  usually  commands 
attention.  Without  it,  words  are  as  sounding  brass,  or  a 
tinkling  cymbal. 

Conviction  is  more  than  opinion  ;  it  is  firm  belief,  attained  by 
considemtion,  and  fortified  by  experience.  One  who  holds  only 
opinions — vague,  shifting,  embodying  little  thought  or  observa- 
tion— will  write  nothing  forcible,  because  he  has  no  vigorous 
ideas.  So  true  is  this  that  in  the  lightest  conversation  (see  pages 
27,  7C)  one  must  take  sides  temix)rarily  even  upon  subjects  that  are 
indifierent,  or  the  talk  will  be  platitudinous.  In  convereation  this 
is  sometimes  excusable  and  even  necessaiy,  because  the  range  of 
practical  topics  may  include  none  upon  which  both  persons  have 
pronounced  opinions.  Sometimes  in  periodical  newspaper  work 
the  same  necessity  arises  ;  the  editor  must  say  something  about  a 
subject  tliat  has  no  interest  for  him,  because  his  readei-s  expect 
something  said  about  it.  But  if  such  occasions  are  frequent, 
the  editor  may  be  sure  that  he  has  mistaken  either  his  calling  or 
his  community ;  he  cannot  long  assume  an  interest  he  does  not 
feel,  and  he  will  find  no  readera  for  articles  he  has  written  with- 
out an  interest.  The  exceptions  are  rare  to  the  rule  that  the  essay 
should  be  written  because  one  hasacomdction  to  express.  A  con- 
viction hastily  and  artificially  built  up  because  one  has  an  essay 
to  write  will  fall  flat. 

(b)  Directness  characterizes  a  strong  mind.  To  see 
clearly,  to  feel  deeply,  to  speak  forcibly,  the  mind  nmst  be 
fixed  on  one  thing,  and  one  thing  only.  A  dozen  argu- 
ments, a  score  of  illustrations,  a  hundred  facts  may  be 
cited,  but  all  must  be  subordinated  to  the  one  end  in 
view — selected  because  they  promote  it,  and  arranged  with 
reference  to  the  perspective  (see  page  251). 

These  are  ascending  stairs— a  good  voice,  winning  manners, 
plain  speech,  chastened  however  by  the  schools  into  correctness  ; 
but  we  most  come  to  the  main  matters,  of  power  of  statement- 
know  your  fact,  hug  year  fact.— Emsbson. 


^50  POWER.  (Part  IV. 

(2)  In  Expression,  i'recision  and  perspicuity  being 
assumed,  power  is  dependent  chieiiy  on  {a)  plainness,  and 
(b)  conciseness. 

(a)  Plainness  of  speech  indicates  that  the  writer  has 
something  to  say,  and  that  his  reliance  is  upon  the  ideas 
themselves — not  upon  their  verbal  apparel. 

The  first  valuable  power  in  a  reasonable  mind,  one  would  say, 
was  the  power  of  plain  statement,  or  the  power  to  receive  things 
as  they  befall,  and  to  transfer  the  picture  of  them  to  another  mind 
unaltered.  'Tis  a  good  rule  of  rhetoric  which  Schlegel  gives — 
•'In  good  prose  every  word  is  underscored;"  which,  I  suppose, 
means  never  itaUcize.  Spartans,  Stoics,  heroes,  saints,  and  gods 
use  a  short  and  ix)8itive  speech.  They  are  never  off  their  centres. 
As  soon  as  they  swell  and  pant  and  find  truth  not  enough  for 
them,  softening  of  the  brain  has  already  begun.  It  seems  as  if  in- 
flation were  a  disease  incident  to  too  much  use  of  words  ;  and  the 
remedy  lay  in  recourse  to  things.  I  am  daily  struck  with  the 
forcible  undei*statement  of  people  who  have  no  litemry  habits. 
The  low  expression  is  strong  and  agreeable.  The  citizen  dwells 
in  delusions.  His  dress  and  draperies,  house  and  stables,  occupy 
him.  The  poor  countiyman,  having  no  circumstances  of  car^Dets, 
coaches,  dinners,  wine  and  dancing  in  head  to  confuse  him,  is  able 
to  look  straight  at  you,  without  refi*action  or  prismatic  glories, 
and  he  sees  whether  your  head  is  addled  by  this  mixture  of  wines. 
The  common  people  diminish  ;  "a  cold  snap ;  "  "it  rains  easy  ;  " 
**  good  haying  weather."  When  a  farmer  means  to  tell  you  that 
he  is  doing  well  with  his  farm,  he  says  :  **  I  don't  work  as  hard  as 
I  did,  and  I  don't  mean  to."  When  he  wishes  to  condemn  any 
treatment  of  soils  or  stock,  he  says:  "It  won't  do  any  good." 
Under  the  Catskill  mountains  the  boy  in  the  steamboat  said, 
*•  Come  up  here,  Tony  ;  it  looks  pretty  out-of-doors." — Emerson. 

**  I  don't  know  how  to  apologize,^'  Max  Adeler  makes  a  raga- 
muffin who  is  ashamed  of  himself  exclaim  ;  "  but  if  you  want  to 
kick  me  down  the  front  steps,  just  kick  away — I'll  bear  it  like  an 
angel." 

Even  a  sophisticated  mind  is  caught  by  plain  utterances.  The 
man  who  has  spoiled  his  tastes  and  sympathies  by  an  artificial  and 


Chap.  XXIILl  BLUNTNESS.  451 

showy  cultivation  is  nevertheless  struck  by  the  vigor  and  raciness 
of  plain  sense.  In  the  phrase  of  Hoi-ace,  though  he  has  driven 
nature  out  of  his  understanding  with  a  fork,  she  yet  returns  when 
tmth  appeai-s.  And  this  is  a  hold  which  a  plain  speaker  has  upon 
an  audience  of  false  tastes  and  false  refinement.  There  is  an  in- 
stinctive sagacity  in  man  which  needs  this  plainness  of  presenta- 
tion, and  which  craves  it  and  is  satisfied  with  it. — Shedd. 
Coleridge  says  of  Roger  North  : 

Hia  langnage  gives  ns  the  veiy  nerve,  pnlae,  and  sinew,  of  a  hearty,  healthy,  conver- 
EngUsh ; 


and  he  gives  this  illustration  of  his  style : 

He  appeared  very  ambitiotu  to  Icam  to  write ;  and  one  of  the  attorney's  got  a  board 
knocked  np  at  a  window  on  the  top  of  a  staircase ;  and  that  wan  his  desk,  where  ho  sat 
and  wrote  after  copies  of  court  and  other  hands  that  the  clerks  gave  him. 

On  the  title-page  to  "  Put  Yourself  in  his  Place,"  Charles  Beade 
thus  translates  a  famous  sentence  of  Horace's : 

I  will  frame  a  work  of  Action  upon  notorious  fact,  so  that  anybo<ly  shall  think  he 
oan  do  the  same ;  shall  labor  and  toil,  attempting  the  same,  and  fail— such  is  the  power 
of  sequence  and  connection  In  writing. 

Bluntness  is  a  degree  of  plainness  sometimes  per- 
missible, and  always  forcible  where  it  does  not  suggest  im- 
propriety. 

Grand,  rough  old  Martin  Luther 

Bloomed  fables,  Howers  on  f une : 
The  better  the  uncouthor  : 

Do  roses  stick  like  burrs  ?— BaowiriMO. 

Some  people  are  so  afiected  in  their  delicacy,  that  their  ears 
appear  to  bo  the  nicest  part  about  them. — FmiiDiNO. 

I  have  said  that  the  popular  craving  for  exact  utterance  of  truth 
is  often  exceasive.  Men  crave  a  coarse  precision,  a  savage  form  of 
truth.  Yet  it  is  the  truth  after  all.  The  common  mind  will  not 
long  retain  a  label  of  a  distinguished  contemi)orary  if  it  is  not 
true.  Popiilar  slang,  in  such  cases,  though  etymologioally  loose, 
is  commonly  definite  to  the  iK>pular  ear,  and  substantially  exact. 
No  language  is  more  so.  Thus,  when  a  prince  has  provod  him.self 
boldf  quiok,  decisive,  ponderous  in  character,  the  popular  voice 
has  summed  up  its  verdict  in  one  figurative  but  exact  title, 
"  Charles  the  Hammer."    When  a  military  chief  has  proved  him- 


453  POWER.  [Part  IV. 

self  sanguinary,  cniel,  ferocious,  relentless,  the  people  have  told  the 
whole  story  of  his  life  in  the  single  phrase,  '*  Alva  the  Butcher." 

The  watchwords  of  political  parties  again  illustrate  the  same 
thing.  They  are  often  intensely  figurative ;  yet,  if  they  have  great 
force  with  the  people,  they  are  as  intensely  true.  No  style  can  ex- 
press the  truth  with  more  of  that  vividness  which  is  often  neces- 
sary to  precise  ideas  in  the  popular  mind.  General  Harrison  owed 
his  elevation  to  the  presidency  of  our  republic,  in  lai'ge  measure 
to  his  Kup(>08ed  symi)athy  with  the  simple  and  rude  usages  of 
backwoodsmen ;  and  this  was  expressed  in  the  old  war-cry  of  the 
Whigs  of  1840 :  "  Log  cabin  and  hard  cider."  General  Taylor 
owed  his  election  to  the  same  oflSce  largely  to  the  sobriquet  which 
his  soldiers  gave  him  in  the  Mexican  war,  "  Old  Bough  and 
Ready."  General  Scott  was  believed  to  have  lost  his  election  lie- 
cause  of  the  nickname  by  which  his  enemies  ridiculed  his  well- 
known  fondness  for  military  etiquette,  **  Old  Fuss  and  Feathera." 
Thousands  of  voters  who  cared  nothing,  and  knew  nothing,  about 
the  politics  of  the  contending  imrties,  knew  as  definitely  as  you 
do  what  those  watchwords  meant ;  and  they  voted  for  and  against 
the  things  which  these  words  painted  to  their  mental  %dsion.  A 
style  in  which  men  said  what  they  meant,  and  meant  what  they 
believed,  carried  the  day,  although  it  was  made  up  of  populai- 
slang. — Phelps. 

Find  illostrations  on  pages  67,  71,  MS. 

Coarseness,  however,  enfeebles;  for  it  produces 
disgust  with  tlie  writer,  which  prejudices  the  reader 
against  the  views  presented. 

"You  Scotchmen,"  said  Edward  Irving  to  Chalmers,  "would 
handle  an  idea  as  a  butcher  handles  an  ox." 

It  has  generally  happened  that  the  most  effective  public  speak- 
ers, whether  secular  or  sacred,  have  by  a  fastidious  class  been 
accused  of  -s-ulgarisms.  So  with  Cicero,  Burke,  and  Chatham ;  so 
with  Patrick  Henry  and  Daniel  Webster ;  and  to  turn  to  eminent 
preachers,  so  with  Luther,  Latimer,  and  Whitefield.  The  reason 
was  that,  intent  on  the  greatest  good  to  the  gi*eatest  number,  they 
used  what  Dr.  Johnson,  after  Daniel  Burgess,  called  "market 
language."    And  yet  some  carry  this  notion  so  far  that  they  imag- 


Chap.  XXIII. ]  COARSENESS.  453 

ine  that  in  speech  the  more  vulgar  they  are  the  more  energetic 
they  must  be.  **  Nor  is  it  true,"  as  Dr.  Ward  says,  '*  that  rough 
and  harsh  language  is  more  sti'ong  and  nervous  than  when  the 
composition  is  smooth  and  harmonious.  A  stream  which  runs 
among  stones  and  rocks  makes  more  noise,  from  the  opposition  it 
meets  with  in  its  course ;  but  tliat  which  has  not  these  impedi- 
ments flows  with  greater  force  and  strength." — Hervey. 

In  criticising,  we  must  keep  in  mind  how  the  standard 
of  propriety  has  varied,  from  age  to  age. 

The  Rev.  Joseph  Dwight  was  the  minister  of  Woodstock,  Conn., 
about  the  year  1700.  The  sensational  jmlpit  of  our  own  time 
could  hardly  surpass  him  in  the  diollery  of  its  expressions.  "  If 
unconverted  men  ever  get  to  heaven,"  he  said  ;  "  they  would  feel 
as  uneasy  as  a  shad  up  the  crotch  of  a  white-oak."  This  probably 
seemed  lees  offensive  to  his  congregation  than  it  seemed  not  long 
ago,  at  a  prayer-meeting,  when  Heuiy  Ward  Beecher  told  about 
certain  cellars  from  which  malarial  odors  arose,  and  said  that  first 
one  of  the  family  died  and  then  anotlier  from  these  odors.  * '  They 
called  it  mysterious  Providence,"  said  Mr.  Beecher.  ' '  No  such 
thing ;  God  knows  it  was  rotten  onions." 

In  tlie  use  of  words,  again,  local  usage  must  be  recog- 
nized. "  Do  taste  this  soup,"  said  an  English  young 
woman  to  the  man  beside  her  at  dinner;  "it  isn't  half 
nasty."  The  remark  was  unnoticed  there,  but  would  have 
been  unpardonable  at  a  Boston  table.  Mr.  I^owell  insists 
that  "  perspire  "  is  a  vulgar  word,  and  that  only  "  sweat " 
siiould  be  used.  Yet  in  most  American  circles  one  does 
well  to  remember  the  distinction  that  a  horse  sweats,  a 
man  perspires,  and  a  woman  glows.  The  young  man  who 
began  a  letter  to  his  betrothed,  "  Thou  sweatest,"  found 
her  no  longer  sweet  to  him. 

Those  things  which  it  is  indecent  to  express  viviilly  uio  always 
such  as  are  conceive*!  to  have  some  turpitude  in  them,  either  nat- 
ural or  moral.    An  example  of  this  decency  in  expression,  where 


454  POWER  [Part  IV. 

the  subject  hath  some  natural  turpitude,  you  will  find  in  Martha's 
answer,  as  it  is  in  the  original,  when  our  Saviour  gave  orders  to 
remove  the  stone  from  the  sepulchre  of  her  brother  Lazarus, 
"  Lord,  bj  this  time  he  smelleth  (7^17  o^et),  for  he  hath  been  dead 
four  days."  In  our  version  it  is  somewhat  indelicately,  not  to  say 
indecently,  rendered  stinketh.  Our  translators  have  in  this  in- 
stance unnecessarily  receded  from  their  ordinary  rule  of  keeping 
as  close  as  possible  to  the  letter.  The  synecdoche  in  this  place 
answers  just  as  well  in  English  as  in  Greek ;  the  x>erspicuity  is 
such  as  secures  the  reader  from  the  possibility  of  a  mistake,  at 
the  same  time  that  the  expression  is  free  from  the  indecency  with 
which  the  other  is  chargeable.  But  if  it  be  necessary  to  avoid  a 
^ivid  exhibition  of  what  appears  uncleanly  to  the  external  senses, 
it  is  much  more  necessary  in  whatever  may  have  a  tendency  to  pol- 
lute the  mind.  It  is  not  always  the  mention  of  vice,  as  such,  which 
has  this  tendency.  Many  of  the  atrocious  crimes  may  be  men- 
tioned with  great  plainness  without  any  such  danger,  and  there- 
fore without  the  smallest  indecorum.  What  the  subjects  are  which 
are  in  this  way  dangerous,  it  is  surely  needless  to  explain.  And 
as  every  person  of  sense  will  readily  conceive  the  truth  of  the  gen- 
eral sentiment,  to  propose  without  necessity  to  produce  examples 
for  the  elucidation  of  it,  might  justly  be  charged  with  being  a 
breach  of  that  decency  of  which  I  am  treating. — Campbell. 

The  Distinction  between  bluntness  and  coarseness 
is  that  the  former  is  recognized  by  the  writer  as  harsh, 
but  adopted  because  harshness  seems,  under  tlie  circum- 
stances, to  be  necessary ;  while  the  latter  is  the  uncon- 
scious manifestation  of  low  instinct  and  low  taste. 

Thus  in  rhythm  what  would  if  unconscious  be  an  unpardonable 
blunder,  may,  when  a  certain  eifect  is  to  be  produced,  appear  an 
artist-stroke.     For  instance, 

And  ten  slow  words  oft  creep  in  one  dull  line, 

is  a  most  unmusical  verse,  and  perfect  because  it  is  unmusical, 
being  intended  to  illustrate  that  fault.  But  there  would  be  no 
hope  for  the  writer  who  let  such  verses  slip  into  his  poems  with- 
out knowing  that  they  were  unmusical. 


Chap.  XXIII.  ]  THE  VELVET  GLOVE.  455 

So  tme  is  it  that  only  the  necessity  of  such  ntterance  makes 
blontness  permissible,  that  the  severest  remark  gains  force  when 
it  can  be  converted  without  loss  of  distinctness  into  courteous  ex- 
pression. The  edge  of  the  axe  does  more  execution  than  the  hoa<l. 
Take  the  illustration  at  the  foot  of  page  264.  There  would  be  a 
certain  blunt  force  in  saying :  **  You  never  did  a  good  deed  in  your 
life,  while  your  crimes  are  notorious."  But  how  much  deeper  the 
accusation  sinks  when  it  is  put  thus : 

You  hare  done  good,  my  lord,  by  stealth ; 
The  rest  is  uiwn  record. 

The  Velvet  Clove. — In  fact,  we  are  particularly 
grateful  to  a  speaker  whose  tact  relieves  us  from  an  an- 
ticipated necessity  of  hearing  something  disagreeable.  We 
want  the  presumptuous  punished,  but  we  shrink  from  the 
altercation  that  results  when  he  is  met  with  his  own 
weapons.  When  an  antagonist  arises,  not  only  bold 
enough  to  attack  him,  but  skilful  enough  to  disarm  him 
without  giving  him  opportunity  to  strike  back,  we  put  no 
stint  upon  our  admiration.  The  iron  hand  within  a  velvet 
glove  is  the  ideal  protector  of  society. 

Leigh  Hunt's  sensitive  delicacy  was  one  of  his  most  marked 
characteristics,  and  one  that  peculiarly  impressed  itself  on  those 
who  enjoyed  personal  communion  with  him.  He  was  delicate  as 
a  woman  in  conduct,  in  words,  in  ways  of  thinking.  I  have  heard 
him  use  paraphrase  in  speaking  of  things  that  the  generality  of 
men  are  accustomed  to  mention  plainly,  as  a  matter  of  course; 
and  though  he  could  —  on  occa.sion  —  use  very  straightforward 
terms  in  treating  a  poetical  subject  warmly,  or  in  reprobating  a 
vice  sternly,  and  employ  very  playful  terms  when  treating  a  hu- 
morous subject  wittily,  I  never  heard  him  utter  a  coarse  or  a  light 
word  in  the  many  times  I  liave  heard  him  converse  with  freetlom 
among  intimate  friends.  Airy  elegance,  sportive  fancy,  marked 
liis  lively  talk  ;  levity  never.  But  though  Leigh  Hunt  was  almost 
womanly  in  his  scrupulous  delicacy,  he  hatl  not  the  very  least 
touch  of  effeminacy  in  his  comiM>sition.  He  was  essentially 
manly — of  tln»t  fin.-  ^^ly^   of  manliness  whi«'»  irvl'idee  the  bes- 


* 


^^  POWER  [Part  IV. 

gentleness  and  tenderness  of  womanly  nature,  blended  with  the 
highest  moral  fortitude  of  manhood.  We  know  that  the  man 
who  created  Imogen^  Portia^  Viola,  Hosaiind,  Hamlet,  Borneo, 
Troiius,  OthellOf  comprised  this  dual  womanly  and  manly  nature 
in  his  own ;  and  we  know  that  Nelson,  who  knew  not  what  fear 
was,  desired  when  dying  to  liave  a  kiss  from  the  lips  of  his 
faithful  lieutenant,  Hardy.  So  with  Leigh  Hunt:  he  was  sensi- 
tive as  a  woman,  yet  in  every  fibre— moral,  intellectual,  and  physi- 
cal—thoroughly a  man. — ^Maby  Cowden  Clabke. 

Find  illustrations  on  papes  11,  00.    See  alao  pages  29,  89-43, 

(b)  Conciseness  is  not  synonymous  with  Brevity. 
Brevity  refers  only  to  the  number  of  words ;  conciseness 
refers  to  the  amount  of  tliought  they  convey.  Brevity 
implies  the  use  of  few  words,  whatever  the  thought  may 
be  ;  conciseness  implies  the  use  of  no  unnecessary  words, 
however  many  may  be  employed.  Brevity  may  be  attained 
by  leaving  much  unsaid  ;  conciseness  tells  it  all,  but  tells 
it  compactly. 

A  concise  discourse  is  like  a  well-packed  trunk,  which  contains 
much  more  than  at  first  sight  it  appears  to  do ;  a  brief  discourse 
may  be  like  a  trunk  half  full;  short,  because  it  is  scanty. — 
Whatelt. 

A  strict  and  succinct  style  is  that  where  you  can  take  away 
nothing  without    losse,    and    that    losse    to  be    manifest. — Ben 

JONSON. 

Brevity  is  a  means,  not  an  end  ;  it  is  to  be  desired  when  it  gives 
best  expression  to  the  thought,  and  only  then.  To  assume  that 
there  is  a  special  virtue  in  laconism  is  to  imitate  the  absurdity  of 
Dryden's  line, 

My  wonnd  is  great,  because  it  is  so  small ; 

which  Buckingham  thus  parodied, 

It  would  be  en^«ater,  were  it  none  at  all. 

Conciseness  is  attained  chiefly  (i)  by  Pruning,  and  (ii) 
by  Compression. 


Chap.  XXIII.]  PRUNING.  457 

(i.)  Pruning  is  possible  in  almost  all  composition  to 
an  extent  that  will  amaze  those  who  have  not  experiment- 
ed. Not  to  speak  of  words  like  very  (see  page  227)  that 
young  writers  sprinkle  through  their  manuscript  as  from 
a  pepper-box,  phrase  after  phrase,  clause  after  clause,  sen- 
tence after  sentence,  paragraph  after  paragraph,  will  be 
found  superfluous  because  they  repeat,  or  excrescent  be- 
cause they  are  not  a  growth  from  the  idea. 

"The  three  ends  which  a  statesman  ought  to  propose  to  himself 
in  the  government  of  a  nation,"  says  Coleridge,  "are  Security  to 
possessors,  Facility  to  acquirers,  and  Hope  to  all."  Why  this  last 
clause?  It  is  not  co-ordinate  with  the  other  two,  but  a  result 
from  them.  It  is  not  one  of  three  ends,  but  the  single  end,  to  be 
attained  by  means  of  the  other  two. 

The  Declaration  of  Independence  is  a  famous  document,  but  it 
begins  with  a  similar  blunder : 

We  hold  these  tmths  to  be  Belf-cvident,  that  all  men  are  created  equal,  that  they  are 
endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain  inalienable  righta ;  that  among  theae  are  life,  lib- 
erty, and  the  pnmiit  of  happinewi. 

Life  ?  yes  ;  liberty  ?  yes ;  but  the  pursuit  of  happiness  ?  Why 
is  it  an  inalienable  right?  How  can  you  prevent  a  man  from 
•'  pursuing"  happiness ?  You  may  help  him  to  attain  it,  but  how 
can  you  help  him  to  *•  pursue"  it? 

The  fact  is,  that  in  nearly  half  of  the  instances  where  three 
specifications  are  made,  one  of  them  is  either  superfluous  or  ex- 
crescent It  is  a  sort  of  rhetorical  rhythm  to  which  mankind  has 
become  accustomed,  that  three  s])ecifications  give  a  sounding  ro- 
tundity to  the  close  of  a  sentence  ;  so  when  only  two  are  involved 
in  the  thought  a  third  is  tacked  on  for  the  sake  of  completeness. 

Economy  of  Attention  is  the  principle  upon  which 
the  j>ower  of  conciseness  depends.  This  is  a  busy  age. 
People  are  overwliclmed  on  all  sides  with  things  to  see 
and  to  liear.  Any  one  thing  that  absorbs  attention  ab- 
stracts that  attention  from  a  thousand  pressing  objects, 
and  must  prove  itself  of  more  immediate  importance  than 


4r58  POWBB.  [Part  IV. 

those  objects.  Hence  tlie  idea  must  be  presented  witli  as 
few  wrappings  as  possible.  The  busy  niercliant  will  not 
stop  to  tear  open  a  series  of  envelopes  to  get  at  a  circular 
from  an  unknown  correspondent — envelopes  and  all  will 
go  into  the  waste-basket. 

We  are  told  that  "  brevity  is  the  soul  of  wit."  We  hear  styles 
condemned  as  verbose  or  involved.  Blair  says  that  every  needless 
part  of  a  sentence  "  interrupts  the  description  and  clogs  the 
image ;  "*  and  again,  that  "  long  sentences  fatigue  the  reader's  at- 
tention." It  is  remarked  by  Lord  Eames  that  "  to  give  the  utmost 
force  to  a  period,  it  ought,  if  possible,  to  be  closed  with  the  word 
that  makes  the  greatest  figure."  That  parentheses  should  be 
avoided,  and  that  Saxon  words  should  be  used  in  preference  to 
those  of  Latin  origin,  are  established  precepts.  But,  however  in- 
fluential the  truths  thus  dogmatically  embodied,  they  would  be 
much  more  influential  if  reduced  to  something  like  scientific  or- 
dination. In  this,  as  in  other  cases,  conviction  will  be  greatly 
strengthened  when  we  understand  the  why.  And  we  may  be  sure 
that  a  comprehension  of  the  general  principle  from  which  the 
rules  of  composition  result,  will  not  only  biing  them  home  to  us 
with  greater  force,  but  will  discover  to  us  other  rules  of  like 
origin. 

On  seeking  for  some  clue  to  the  law  underlying  these  current 
maxims,  we  may  see  shadowed  forth  in  many  of  them  the  impor- 
tance of  economizing  the  reader's  or  hearer's  attention.  To  so 
present  ideas  that  they  may  be  apprehended  with  the  least  possible 
mental  effbi-t,  is  the  desideratum  toward  which  most  of  the  rales 
above  quoted  point.  When  we  condemn  writing  that  is  wordy,  or 
confused,  or  intricate— when  we  praise  this  style  as  easy,  and  blame 
that  as  fatiguing,  we  consciously  or  unconsciously  assume  this  de- 
sideratum as  our  standard  qf  judgment.  Regarding  language  as 
an  apparatus  of  symbols  for  the  conveyance  of  thought,  we  may  say 
that,  as  in  a  mechanical  apparatus,  the  more  simple  and  the  better 
arranged  in  its  parts,  the  greater  will  be  the  effect  produced.  In 
either  case,  whatever  force  is  absorbed  by  the  machine  is  deducted 
from  the  result.  A  reader  or  listener  lias  at  each  moment  but  a 
limited  amount  of  mental  power  available.     To  recognize  and  in- 


Chap.  XXIII.]  CONCISENESS,  459 

terpret  the  sjxnbola  presented  to  him  requite  pftH  of  this  power ; 
to  arrange  and  combine  the  images  suggested  recinires  a  further 
part ;  and  only  that  part  which  remains  can  be  used  for  realizing 
the  thought  conveyed.  Hence,  the  more  time  and  attention  it 
takes  to  receive  and  understand  each  sentence,  the  less  time  and 
attention  can  be  given  to  the  contained  idea,  and  the  less  vividly 
will  that  idea  be  conceived. 

How  tnily  language  must  be  regarded  as  a  hindrance  to  thought, 
though  the  necessary  instniment  of  it,  we  shall  clearly  iKjrceive  on 
remembering  the  comparative  force  with  which  simple  ideas  are 
communicated  by  signs.  To  say  "Leave  the  room"  is  less  ex- 
pressive than  to  point  to  the  door.  Placing  a  finger  on  the  lips  is 
more  forcible  than  whisi^ering  "Do  not  s^jeak."  A  beck  of  the 
hand  is  better  than  "  Come  here."  No  phrase  can  convey  the  idea 
of  surprise  so  Wvidly  as  opening  the  eyes  and  raising  the  eye- 
brows. A  shrug  of  the  shouldei-s  would  lose  much  by  translation 
into  words.*  Again,  it  may  be  remarked  that  when  oral  language 
is  employed,  the  strongest  effects  are  produced  by  intei-jections, 
which  condense  entire  sentences  into  syllables.  And  in  other 
cases,  where  custom  allows  us  to  express  thoughts  by  single  words,, 
as  in  BetrarSf  HeigJto,  Fudge,  much  force  would  be  lost  by  expand- 
ing them  into  specific  propositions. 

Hence,  carrying  out  the  metaphor  that  language  is  the  vehicle 
of  thought,  there  seems  reason  to  think  that  in  all  cases  the  fric- 
tion and  inertia  of  the  vehicle  deduct  from  its  efficiency,  and  that 
in  composition,  the  chief,  if  not  the  solo  thing  to  be  done  is  to  re- 
duQe  this  friction  and  inertia  to  the  smallest  possible  amount. — 
Hebbbbt  Spemcbb. 

The  very  same  sentiment,  expressed  diffusely,  will  be  admitted 
barely  to  be  just ;  expressed  concisely  will  be  admired  as  spirited. 
To  recur  to  examples,  the  famous  answer  returned  by  the  Countess 
of  Dorset  to  the  letter  of  Sir  Joseph  Williamson,  Secretary  of  Stato 
to  Charles  the  Second,  nominating  to  her  a  member  for  the  l)or- 
ongh  of  Appleton,  is  an  excellent  illustration  :  "I  have  been  bul- 
lied," says  her  ladyship,  "  by  an  usurper,  I  have  been  neglected 

*  "  It  wMiU  that  I  **  mid  Sir  Joshuft  ReTnoIda  of  a  pictare,  ntapping  hit  llngen.  On 
the  tomb  of  Bardaoftpaltu  U  tnaeribod  "  Pmm  on,  Btranger,  eat,  drink,  and  amoM  tbyaclf, 
for  nought  alM  fa  worth  a  fllUp,**  and  a  plotara  U  given  of  flngar*  i 


^^0  POWER.  [Part  IV. 

by  a  court,  but  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  a  subject.     Your  man 
shan't  stand." — Campbell. 

I'BOUxiTT.— There  is  an  event  recorded  In  the  Bible  which  men  who  write  btxAa 
Bhonkl  keep  constantly  in  remembrance.  It  is  thete  set  forth  that  nuiny  centuries  ago 
the  earth  was  covered  by  a  great  flood,  by  which  the  whole  human  race,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  one  family,  were  destroyed.  It  appears,  also,  that  from  thence  a  great  alteration 
was  made  in  the  longevity  of  nuuikind,  who,  from  a  range  of  seven  or  eight  hundred 
years,  which  they  had  enjoyed  before  the  flood,  were  oonflned  to  their  present  period  uf 
seventy  or  eighty  years.  This  epoch  ia  the  history  of  men  gave  birth  tu  the  twofold  di- 
vision of  the  antediluvian  and  poHtdilnvian  style  of  writing,  the  latter  of  which  natur- 
ally contracted  itself  luto  thuHc  inferior  limits  which  were  better  accommodated  to  the 
abridged  period  of  human  life  and  literary  labor. 

Now  to  forget  this  event,  to  write  without  the  fear  of  the  deluge  before  bin  eyes,  and 
to  handle  a  subject  as  if  mankind  could  lounge  over  a  itamphlet  fur  ten  yeara.  aH  before 
their  submersion,  is  to  be  guilty  of  the  most  grievous  error  into  which  a  writer  can  pos- 
sibly falL  The  author  of  this  book  should  call  in  the  aid  of  some  brilliant  pencil,  and 
cause  the  distressing  scenes  of  the  delnge  to  he  portrayed  in  the  mofit  lively  colors  for  his 
ose.  He  should  gase  at  Noah,  and  be  brief.  The  ark  should  constantly  remind  him  of 
the  little  time  there  is  left  for  reading :  and  he  should  learn,  as  they  did  in  the  ark,  to 
crowd  a  great  deal  of  matter  into  a  very  iimaU  compass.— Stdmxt  SitrrH. 

De  Quincey  calls  the  German  sentence  an  arch  between  the  ris- 
ing and  the  setting  sun,  and  declares  that  one  of  Kant's  sentences 
was  found  by  a  carpenter  to  be  twenty  inches  long. 

Louis  XIV.,  who  loved  a  concise  style,  one  day  met  a  priest, 
whom  he  asked  hastily  :  **  "Whence  come  you  ?  Whither  are  you 
going  ?  Wh&t  do  you  want  ?  "  The  priest  replied,  *'  From  Bmges. 
To  Paris.     A  benefice."     **  You  shall  have  it,"  answered  the  king. 

(li.)  Compression. — "One  must  study  contraction 
as  well  as  omission.  There  are  many  sentences  which 
would  not  bear  tlie  omission  of  a  single  word  consistently 
with  perspicuity,  which  yet  may  be  much  moi-e  concisely 
expressed  with  equal  clearness  by  the  employment  of  dif- 
ferent words,  and  by  recasting  a  great  part  of  tlie  ex- 
pression." 

Take,  for  example,  such  a  sentence  as  the  following  : 

A  severe  and  tyrannical  exercise  of  power  must  become  a  matter  of  necessary  policy 
with  kings  when  their  subjects  are  imbued  with  such  principles  as  justify  and  authorize 
rebellion. 

This  sentence  could  not  be  advantageously  nor  to  any  consider- 
able degree  abridged  by  the  mere  omission  of  any  of  the  words; 


Chap.  XXIII.]  CONCISENESS.  461 

but  it  may  be  expressed  in  a  much  shorter  compass,  with  equal 
clearness  and  far  greater  energy,  thus : 

Kingt  will  be  tyrants  from  poUoy  when  subjects  are  rebels  from  principle. — Campbell 

£xEBCi8£. — Condense  the  following  sentences  by  a 
change  of  form. 

Example. — They  disputed  who  should  be  greatest. 

There  arose  a  dispute  among  them,  who  should  be  greatest. 

I  have  a  doubt  whether  the  story  be  true. 

Generally  a  discussion  arises  whether  a  fee  shall  be  paid. 

I  am  going  to  yonder  gate  to  receive  further  direction  how  I 
may  get  to  the  place  of  deliverance. 

He  gave  us  a  long  account  how  he  had  hooked  the  fish.  We 
are  indebted  to  him  for  the  suggestion  as  to  making  an  abstract. 

Henry  Smith  failed,  which  astonished  them.  Conversation 
with  you  has  satisfied  me  as  to  the  fact. 

I  had  often  received  an  invitation  from  my  friend. 

If  we  know  extensively,  we  shall  operate  extensively. 

Being  cultivated  mentally  is  important. 

The  equality  of  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  to  two  right  angles 
is  a  previous  assumption. 

Of  the  same  nature  with  the  indulgence  of  domestic  affections, 
and  equally  refreshing  to  the  spirits,  is  the  pleasure  which  results 
from  acts  of  bounty  and  beneficence,  exercised  either  in  getting 
money  or  in  imi)arting  to  those  who  want  it  the  assistance  of  our 
skill  and  profession. — Quoted  hy  Bain. 

The  Degree  of  conciseness  conducing  to  power  de- 
pends largely  upon  the  capacity  of  the  class  of  readers 
addressed. 

It  is  remarked  by  anatomists  that  the  nutritive  quality  is  not 
the  only  requisite  in  food  ;  that  a  certain  degree  of  distention  in 
the  stomach  is  required  to  enable  it  to  act  with  its  full  powers, 
and  that  for  this  reason  hay  or  straw  must  be  given  to  horses  as 
well  as  com,  in  order  to  supply  the  necessary  bulk.  Something 
analogous  to  this  takes  place  with  respect  to  the  generality  of 
minda,  which  are  incapable  of  thoroughly  digesting  and  aasimiiat- 


462  POWER.  [Part  IV. 

ing  what  is  presented  to  them,  however  clearly,  in  a  very  small 
comimss. 

Repetition  in  a  condensed  form  of  an  idea  already 
expressed  at  length  often  produces  the  effect  of  concise- 
ness. 

To  an  author  who  is  in  his  expression  of  any  sentiment  waver- 
ing between  the  demands  of  perspicuity  and  of  energy  (of  which 
the  former,  of  course,  requires  the  first  care,  lest  he  should  fail 
of  both)  and  doubting  whether  the  phrase  which  has  the  most  of 
forcible  breWty  will  be  readily  taken  in,  it  may  be  recommended 
to  use  both  expressions  :  first,  to  ex}xmd  the  sense  sufficiently  to 
be  clearly  understood,  and  then  to  contract  it  into  the  most  com- 
pendious and  striking  fonu.  This  expedient  might  seem  at  first 
sight  the  most  decidedly  adverse  to  the  brevity  recommended; 
but  it  wiU  be  found  in  practice  that  the  addition  of  a  compressed 
and  pithy  expression  of  the  sentiment  which  has  been  already 
stated  at  greater  length  wiU  have  the  effect  of  breWty.  For  it  is 
to  be  remembered  that  it  is  not  on  account  of  the  actual  number 
of  words  that  diffuseness  is  to  be  condemned  (unless  one  were 
limited  to  a  certain  space  or  time),  but  to  avoid  the  flatness  and 
tediousness  resulting  from  it ;  so  that  if  this  appearance  can  be 
obviated  by  the  insertion  of  such  an  abridged  repetition  as  is  here 
recommended,  which  adds  ix)ignancy  and  spirit  to  the  whole,  con- 
ciseness will  be  practically  promoted  by  the  addition. — ^Whately. 

In  the  following  sentence  Archbishop  Whately  violates  the 
principle  just  laid  down,  putting  the  compact  expression  first. 

Universally,  a  writer  or  speaker  shonld  endeavor  to  mainta'n  the  appearance  of  ex- 
pressing himself,  not  as  if  he  wanted  to  Fay  something,  bat  as  if  he  had  something  to 
say;  i.e.,  not  as  if  he  had  a  subject  set  him,  and  was  anxious  to  compo<e  the  best  essay 
or  declamation  on  it  that  he  could,  but  as  if  he  had  some  ideas  to  which  he  was  anxions 
to  give  utterance  ;  not  as  if  he  wanted  to  compose  (for  instance)  a  sermon,  and  was  de- 
sirous of  performing  that  task  satisfactorily,  but  as  if  there  was  something  in  his  mind 
which  he  was  desirous  of  communicating  to  his  hearers. 

Exception  to  the  rule  that  conciseness  is  energy  fre- 
quently occurs  in  description.     (See  pages  213,  250.) 

Edmund  Burke,  in  his  speech  on  the  Nabob  of  Arcot,  describes 
the  effects  of  the  war  carried  on  by  the  East  India  Company  in  the 


Chap.  XXIIL]  ENERGY.  463 

Camatic  territory.  An  unimaginative  sx)eaker,  seeing  things  in 
what  Bacon  calls  "dry  light,"  would  have  said,  "The  war  was  a 
war  of  extermination  ;  "  this  was  the  whole  of  it.  An  indignant  and 
difiltisive  speaker,  boiling  over  with  his  wrath,  would  have  said, 
"The  wr*  *  murdei*ous,  inhuman,  devilish."  His  invective 
would  have  »|jent  itself  in  epithets.  But  Burke,  more  forcible 
tlian  either,  compresses  his  indignation,  has  not  a  word  to  say  of 
the  character  of  the  war,  but  describes  the  facts,  and  leaves  them 
to  speak  for  themselves.     He  says : 

When  the  British  army  traveraed,  as  they  did,  the  Camatic  for  huiidnnl-t  of  miles  in 
alldtr<H:tlon8,  through  the  whole  line  of  their  march  they  did  not  see  one  man,  nut  one 
woman,  not  one  child,  not  one  four-footed  I>en8t  of  any  descripliun  whatever. 

Energy  of  thought  here  requires  particularity  of  detail ;  there- 
fore energy  of  expression  requires  many  words. 

Sometimes  a  descriptive  sjKjaker  needs  to  gain  time  for  a 
thought  to  take  hold  of  an  obtuse  hearer.  Macaulay  says  of  the 
effects  of  the  French  Revolution,  **  Down  went  the  old  church  of 
Fi-ance,  with  all  its  pomp  and  wealth."  This  is  forcible  fact, 
forcibly  jnit.  But  he  intensifies  it  by  saying,  "  The  churches  were 
closed ;  the  bells  were  silent ;  tlie  shrines  were  i)lunderoil  ;  the 
silver  cnicifixos  wore  molted  down  ;  l)uffoons  dressed  in  suii)lices 
came  dancing  in  the  carmagnole  even  to  the  bar  of  the  Conven- 
tion." By  these  details  time  is  gained  for  the  imagination  to 
realize  the  main  tnith  that  the  church  was  destroyed.  Longinus 
illustrates  the  two  styles  here  contrasted  by  the  examples  of  De- 
mosthenes and  Cicero.  He  says,  "Demosthenes  was  concisely, 
Cicero  diffusely  sublime.  Demosthenes  was  a  thunderbolt ;  Ci- 
cero was  a  conflagration.'* — Phklfs. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Power. 

1.  In  thought  pau&r  dependton: 

a.  Sincerity,  p.  448. 

b.  Directness,  p.  449. 

2.  In  expression  pateer  depends  on : 

a.  Plainnessi  p.  450. 

Bluntness,  p.  451. 

Coarseness,  p.  452. 

Distinction  between  bluntness  and  coarseness,  454 

The  velvet  glove,  p.  455. 

b.  Ck)nciseness,  p.  456. 

i.   Pruning,  p.  457. 

Economy  of  attention,  p.  457. 
ii.  Compression,  p.  460. 
Degree  of  conciseness,  p.  461. 
Repetition,  p.  462. 
Exceptions,  p.  462. 


CHAPTER  XXIY. 

PERFECTION. 

Perfection  (usually  referred  to  as  Elegance,  Grace, 
Beaut})  is  the  artistic  linish  put  upon  composition  already 
elaborated.  The  essay  being  true,  precise,  perspicuous, 
powerful,  the  careful  writer  goes  over  it  line  by  line, 
changing  here  a  word,  there  an  expression,  until  each 
word  not  only  expresses  his  meaning  but  expresses  it 
more  happily  than  any  other  word  could. 

The  safest  rule  is  never  during  the  act  of  comixjsition  to  study 
elegance  or  think  about  it  at  all.  Let  an  author  study  the  best 
models,  mark  their  beauties  of  style  and  dwell  upon  tbem,  that  he 
may  insensibly  catch  the  habit  of  expressing  himself  with  ele- 
gance ;  and  when  he  has  completed  any  composition  he  may  re- 
vise it,  and  cautiously  alter  any  expression  tliat  is  awkward  and 
harsh,  as  well  as  those  that  are  feeble  and  obscure ;  but  let  him 
never  while  writing  think  of  any  beauties  of  style,  but  content 
himself  with  such  as  may  occur  spontaneously.  He  should  care- 
fully study  i>erspicuity  as  he  goes  along ;  he  may  also,  though 
more  cautiously,  aim  in  like  manner  at  energy  ;  but  if  he  is  en- 
deavoring after  elegance,  he  will  hardly  fail  to  betray  that  en- 
deavor ;  and  in  proportion  as  ho  does  this,  he  will  be  so  far  from 
giving  pleasure  to  good  judges,  that  he  will  offend  more  than  by 
the  rudest  simplicity. — Whatelt. 

A  nan  sbocUd  «o  d«UT«r  hlmaatf  to  the  natara  of  tho  sabj«ot  wharaof  he  apealEi,  that 
hia  hearer  majtaka  knowMgaof  his diadpUiM with  mm*  deUgfat:  and  soappHrel  fair 
and  good  mattar  that  tha  ftodfcmii  of  elegancy  be  not  defraoded ;  redeem  art*  from  their 
rough  and  braky  Mate,  whata  they  lay  hid  and  overgrown  with  thoma,  to  a  pore,  open, 
and  floiwery  Ught,  where  they  may  taka  the  eyv,  and  be  taken  bj  tha  hand— Bw 


^QQ  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

A  Change  of  Taste. — Blair's  *'  Rhetoric,"  founded  upon  the  style 
of  Addison  as  an  ideal,  treats  of  Beauty  as  cliaracteriziug  writing 
of  a  certain  kind.     The  author  says : 

I  am,  indeed,  inclined  to  think,  that  re^Iarity  appear*  beautifnl  to  ub  chiefly,  if  not 
only  on  acoount  of  iUi  sni^gefttins  the  ideas  of  fltnem,  propriety  and  use,  which  hnvo 
alwayN  a  greater  connection  with  orderly  and  proportioned 'forma,  than  with  those  which 
appear  not  oonstmcted  aocordinK  to  any  certain  rule.  .  .  .  There  io,  however,  an- 
other sense,  somewhat  more  definite,  in  which  boantj  of  writing  chnr^cterizefl  a  particn- 
lar  manner  ;  when  it  is  naed  to  Hignify  a  certain  grace  and  amenity  in  th(>  turn,  either  of 
style  or  sentiment,  for  which  some  authors  have  been  particularly  distinguinhed.  In  this 
sense,  it  denotes  a  manner  neither  remarlcably  snblime,  nor  vehemently  pAH<iionate,  nor 
nncommonly  sparkling ;  but  such  as  raises  in  the  reader  an  emotion  of  the  gentle  placid 
kind,  similar  to  what  is  raised  by  the  contemplation  of  beautiful  objects  In  natnrc ;  which 
neither  lifts  the  mind  very  high,  nor  agitates  it  very  much,  but  difru»«es  over  the  imagina- 
tion an  agreeable  and  pleasing  serenity.  Mr.  Addison  is  a  writer  altogether  of  this  char- 
acter, and  is  one  of  the  moat  proper  and  predae  examples  that  can  be  given  of  it. 

Of  the  latter  of  those,  the  highest,  most  correct  and  ornamented  degree  of  the  simple 
manner,  Mr.  Addifwn  is,  l>cyond  doubt,  in  the  English  langnage,  thi  must  perfect  exam- 
ple; and  therefore,  though  not  without  some  faults,  he  is,  on  the  whole,  the  safest  model 
for  iniitstion,  and  the  freest  from  considerate  defects  which  the  language  affords.  Per- 
spicuous and  pure  he  is  in  the  highest  degree ;  his  precision  indeed  not  very  great,  yet 
nearly  as  great  as  the  subjecU  which  he  treaU  of  reiiulre  ;  the  constmction  of  his  sen- 
tences easy,  agreeable  and  commonly  very  musical ;  carrying  a  character  of  smoothness, 
more  than  of  strength.  .  .  .  If  he  fails  in  anything,  it  is  in  want  of  strength  and 
precision,  which  renders  his  manner,  though  perfectly  suiteil  to  such  essays  as  he  writes 
in  the  Spectator,  not  altogether  a  perfect  model  for  any  of  the  higher  and  more  elaborate 
kinds  of  composition. 

From  this  search  aft^r  beauty  as  an  end  there  has  been  a 
marked  reaction.  It  is  no  longer  the  languid,  complacent  style 
of  Queen  Anne's  reign  that  is  sought  as  a  model,  but  the  racy, 
vigorous  uttemnce  of  the  Elizabethan  writers. 

The  English  mind,  and,  as  an  offshoot  of  it,  the  American  mind  as  well,  are  not  par- 
tial to  the  elegant  (lualitia*,  specially  in  public  oral  addresses.  We  are  jealous  for  our 
strength.  We  are  proud  of  our  Saxon  stock.  We  are,  therefore,  morbidly  afraid  of  im- 
pjsing  on  ourselves  by  elegant  literary  forms.  We  are  in  this  respect  what  our  language 
is,  hardy,  rough,  careless  of  ease.  The  languages  and  temperaments  of  Southern  Europe 
are  in  this  respect  our  opposites.  We  have  cultivated  learning  at  the  expense  of  taste  ; 
they,  taste  at  the  expense  of  learning. 

This  prejudice,  moreover,  is  often  aggravated  by  affectations  of  the  beautiful  in  liter- 
ary expression.  Aflfectations  create  caricatures  of  beauty  :  these  repel  taste,  as  they  rep3l 
good  sense.  That  cast  of  character  which  le.vd^  a  young  man  to  wear  long  hair,  and  to 
part  it  in  the  middle,  often  appears  in  literature  in  a  straining  after  the  feminine 
qualities  of  style  when  no  beauty  of  thought  underlies  and  demands  them.  This  nau- 
seates short-haired  men,  and  lends  reason  to  their  prejudice  against  the  genuine  because 
of  the  counterfeit  elegance.  The  cant  of  literature,  like  that  of  religion,  is  never  more 
disgusting  than  when  it  takes  the  form  of  the  e.tquisite.  iiorbid  delicacy  rasps  manly 
nerves.  — Phkij>8. 


Cbap.  XXIV.]  EPIGRAMS.  467 

Such  men,  to  be  sure,  have  existed  as  Julius  Ceesar  ;  but  in  gen- 
eral a  correct  and  elegant  stylo  is  hardly  attainable  by  those  who 
have  passed  their  lives  in  action  ;  and  no  one  has  such  a  pedantic 
love  of  good  writing  as  to  prefer  mendacious  finery  to  rough  and 
ungranimatical  truth. — Sidney  Smith. 

Epigrams  are  short  poems  ending  in  a  point  or  turn 
of  wit ;  as, 

An  epigram  is  like  a  bee— a  thing 

Of  Uttle  sixe,  with  honey,  and  a  sting.— Mabtial. 

Retort  should  perhaps  be  classed  with  the  forms  just 
referred  to,  as  its  effect  depends  upon  the  turn  it  gives 
to  the  words  of  the  lirst  speaker.     Thus  : 

A  French  oflBcer  reproached  a  Swiss  for  fighting  upon  either 
side  for  money,  "while  we  Frenchmen,"  said  he,  "fight  for 
honor.**  ••  That  is  natural,"  i*eplied  the  Swiss  ;  "  eveiy  one  fights 
for  what  he  most  wants." 

One  ilay  Sheridan  met  two  royal  dukes  in  St.  James's  Street, 
and  the  younger  flippantly  remarked  :  "  I  say,  Sherry,  we  have 
just  been  discussing  whether  you  are  a  greater  fool  or  rogue  :  what 
is  your  opinion,  oKl  boy  ?  " — Sheridan  bowed,  smiled,  and  as  he 
took  each  of  threm  by  the  arm  replied,  *'  Why,  faith,  I  believe  I  am 
between  both." —  Workn. 

Wlien  Henry  FV.  was  at  Amiens,  and  very  much  fatigued,  the 
mayor,  with  Ids  council,  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  him.  Tlie 
mayor  began  his  harangue  in  this  way  :  *•  King  forever  blessed — 
very  puissant,  very  clement,  veiy  great — "  Then  the  King  cut 
him  short  by  saying,  **  And  very  tired,"  and  so  ended  the  mayor's 
fine  speech. 

A  lawyer,  fined  for  expressing  contempt  of  Court,  protested, 
urging  with  great  earnestness  that  on  the  contrary  he  had  care- 
fully concealed  his  feelings. 

Brilliancy  is  perhaps  the  proper  terni  to  aj^ply  to 
language  which  puts  the  tliought  in  sucli  dear  light,  that 
the  light  itself  attracts  attention.  To  be  memorahle,  style 
must  possess  something  of  this  distinction. 


468  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

Dr.  Johnson's  fame  now  rests  principally  upon  Boswell.  It 
is  impossible  not  to  be  amased  with  such  a  book.  But  his  bow-wow 
manner  must  have  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  the  effect  produced ; 
for  no  one,  I  suppose,  will  set  Johnson  before  Burke,  and  Burke 
was  a  great  and  universal  talker  ;  yet  now  we  hear  nothing  of  this 
except  by  some  chance  remarks  in  Boswell,  The  fact  is,  Burke, 
like  all  men  of  genius  who  love  to  talk  at  all,  was  very  discursive 
and  continuous ;  hence  he  is  not  reported  ;  he  seldom  said  the 
sharp  short  things  that  Johnson  almost  always  did,  which  pro- 
duce a  more  decided  effect  at  the  moment,  and  which  are  so  much 
more  easy  to  carry  off. — Coleridoe. 

I  think  Steele  shone  rather  than  sparkled.  Those  famous 
beatLx-esprits  of  the  coffee-houses  .  .  .  would  make  many  brilliant 
hits — half  a  dozen  in  a  night  sometimes ;  but,  like  sharp-shooters, 
when  they  had  fired  their  shot  they  were  obliged  to  retire  under 
cover  till  their  pieces  were  loaded  again,  and  wait  till  they  got  an- 
other chance  at  the  enemy  ;  whereas  Dick  never  thought  that  his 
bottle-companion  was  a  butt  to  aim  at — nay,  a  friend  to  shake  by 
the  hand. — Thackeray. 

But  brilliancy  is  legitimate  only  when  it  is  the  result  of 
polish,  of  fine  finish,  of  artistic  completeness  of  utterance. 
We  liave  no  respect  for  the  ideas  of  men  that  seek  to  say 
bright  things  for  the  sake  of  display.  We  look  upon 
them,  as  upon  professional  wits  (see  page  129),  as  per- 
formers rather  than  as  companions,  dealing  with  words 
rather  than  with  thoughts,  fit  to  amuse  us  in  idle  mood, 
but  not  to  be  consulted  when  we  are  in  doubt. 

When  Ruskin  says  that  he  could  not,  even  for  a  couple  of 
months,  live  in  a  country  so  miserable  as  to  possess  no  castles,  his 
aim  is  to  be  epigrammatic,  but  he  only  makes  us  impatient  of  his 
morbid  affectation.  "^Tien  Professor  Clifford  leaves  for  an  in- 
scription on  his  tomb,  *'I  was  not,  and  was  conceived;  I  lived 
and  did  a  little  work  ;  I  am  not,  and  grieve  not,"  the  Spectator 
justly  remarks  that  though  many  will  think  the  epitaph  fine,  it 
wotild  be  finer  if  it  were  inscribed  above  a  hoi-se.  Coleridge 
has  made  some  of  the  most  exact  distinctions  known  in  literature, 


Chap.  XXIV.  J  EUPHONY.  469 

but  in  the  following  he  seems  to  have  sought  striking  foim  rather 
than  precise  expression : 

Let  •  yoang  man  wparate  I  from  Me  an  far  as  he  possibly  can.  and  remove  Me  till  it 
ia  almost  lost  In  the  remote  disUnoe.  "  I  am  Me,"  is  as  bad  a  fanlt  in  intellectuals  and 
morals  as  it  is  in  grammar,  while  none  bat  one— Ood— can  say,  *'  I  am  I,"  or  ''  That  I 
Amr— Work;  \L  496. 

Euphony  is  another  element  of  literary  perfection. 

Words  have  their  aristocracy.  Some  have  a  noble  birth  ;  a 
magnificent  history  lies  behind  them  ;  they  were  born  amid  the 
swelling  and  the  bursting  into  life  of  great  ideas.  On  the  con- 
trary, there  are  words  which  have  plebeian  associations.  Some  are 
difficult  of  enunciation  ;  and,  by  a  secret  sympathy,  the  mind  at- 
taches to  them  the  distortion,  perhaps  the  pain,  of  the  vocal  or- 
gans in  their  utterance.  A  single  uncouth  word  may  be  to  style 
what  an  uncontrollable  grimace  is  to  the  countenance.  Neither  is 
a  thing  of  beauty.  Words  not  inelegant  in  themselves  become  so 
through  pedestrian  associations  which  colloquial  usage  affixes  to 
them.  Our  Yankee  favorite  "guess"  is  a  perfectly  good  word, 
pure  English,  of  good  stock,  and  long  standing  in  the  language. 
A  better  word,  in  itself  considered,  we  have  not  in  English  use. 
But  because  it  is  a  colloquial  favorite,  used  by  everybody,  on  every 
variety  of  subject  and  occasion,  and  often  in  a  degraded  sense,  as 
in  the  compound  "  guess-work,"  it  has  become  vulgar  in  the  sense 
of  "common;  "so  that  in  many  connections  in  which  the  real 
meaning  of  it  would  be  entirely  pertinent,  the  word  would  be 
unelegant.  "Conjecture,"  or  some  equivalent,  must  take  its 
place.  .  .  .  Wordsworth's  poetry,  again,  is  not  wholly  de- 
fensible from  the  charge  of  using  in  poetic  measure  an  inelegant 
vocabulary.  He  believed  in  the  poetry  of  common  things,  com- 
mon thoughts,  common  people,  and  their  common  affairs.  It  was 
the  aim  of  his  life  to  lift  up  into  the  atmosphere  of  romance  things 
lowly  and  obscure.  "The  Excursion"  wrought  in  this  resjject  one 
of  the  silent  revolutions  of  literature  in  the  direct  interest  of 
Christianity.  But,  in  his  attempt  to  effect  that  revolution,  he  did 
lean  to  an  extreme.  Even  his  regal  imagination  could  not  dig- 
nify such  linos  as  these  ;  viz.  : — 

A  hoasriiold  tab.  Ulm  one  of  tboaa 


•470  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

Notions  of  enphony  are  not  the  same  all  the  world  over.  I 
once  asked  a  pundit,  a  professor  of  poetry,  what  he  considered  to 
be  the  most  melodious  word  in  Sanscrit.  His  reply  was,  slakshna. 
And  he  was  not  jesting.— HAUi. 

A  practice  almost  indispensable  to  a  satisfactory 
essay  is  to  take  it  up,  after  revision  according  to  every 
other  standard  has  been  completed,  and  read  it  aloud, 
noting  for  correction  not  only  all  harsh  expressions,  but 
all  that  the  combination  of  sounds  makes  it  difficult  to 
enunciate. 

In  Lincoln's  first  inaugural  occurs  the  following  phrase,  the 
peculiar  combination  of  consonants  and  labials  of  which  can  only 
be  ai)preciated  by  an  attempt  (we  use  the  word  attempt  advisedly) 
to  read  it  aloud  : 

''Will  yoa  haaurd  m  dMperate  «  step,  while  anj  portion  of  the  ills  yon  fly  from  have 
no  real  ezintenoe  ?  Will  yoa,  while  the  oertain  UIk  yoa  fly  to  are  greater  than  all  the  real 
onea  yoa  fly  from  ?  ^—Mngatine  of  Ameriean  History. 

Variety  is,  finally,  one  of  the  most  essential  elements 
of  perfection. 

In  diction  an  extensive  and  daily  widening  vocab- 
ulary is  indispensable  (see  pages  401-403). 

I  have  long  been  in  the  habit  of  reading  daily  some  first-class 
English  author,  chiefly  for  the  copia  rerborum,  to  avoid  sinking 
into  cheap  and  bald  fluency,  to  give  elevation,  dignity,  sonorous- 
ness, and  refinement  to  my  vocabulary. — Choate. 

It  is  a  mark  of  weakness,  of  poverty  of  si)eech,  or  at  least  of 
bad  taste,  to  continue  the  use  of  i>et  words,*  or  other  peculiarities 
of  language,  after  we  have  become  conscious  of  them  as  such.  In 
dialect,  as  in  dress,  individuality  founded  upon  anything  but  gen- 
eral harmony  and  su])erior  propriety,  is  offensive,  and  good  taste 
demands  that  each  shall  please  by  its  total  impression,  not  by  its 
distinguishable  details. — 1 


*  It  is  to  be  remarked  that  this  very  expression,  "  pet  words,"  is  a  pet  term  of  Mr. 
Marsh,  oocurrinR  again  and  again  in  hia  "LecLares  on  the  English  Language.^' 


Chap.  XXIV.]  VARIETY.  471 

Many  of  Mr.  Carlyle'a  pecaliarities  of  style  m  a  writer  are  to  be  aroided  rather  than 
imitated,  bat  at  the  same  time  a  writer  whow  pages  present  so  stronfc  a  front  as  do  bis  is 
wmlby  of  analytical  study.  What  givott  to  Mr.  Carlyle's  sentences  that  vigor  and  fresh- 
nen  so  manife«t  to  every  one  ?  A  partial  explanation  lit  to  be  found  in  the  richness  of  his 
Tooabolary.  Probably  no  man  living  in  this  age  was  so  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the 
Bnglish  dictionary  as  Mr.  Carlyle,  or  used  words  more  discriminatingly  without  marring 
hi8  work  with  the  appearance  of  labored  construction.  Take  up  any  book  of  his  and  notice 
how  seldom  he  has  repeated  even  the  smallest  words  in  any  given  i>a8sage  or  paragraph. 
You  rarely  And  more  than  one  "and"  in  his  longest  sentences.  \Nliole  pages  may  be 
tX^,^^9C^  without  discovering  a  single  "the,"  '"to,"  or  "but."  Take  up  any  of  his 
writings,  block  out  a  section  of  one  hundred  words,  and  then  count  the  distinct  words 
that  occur  in  it,  counting  each  word  only  once.  Here  are  a  few  results  of  such  a  test. 
In  "Sartor  Itesartus  "  to  one  hundred  words  in  the  text  84  individual  words ;  in  the  eaaay 
■II  "  Mirabeau,"  82 ;  in  the  essay  on  "  Goethe,"  76 ;  in  the  essay  on  "  Bums,"  78  ;  in  the 
French  Revolution,"  90;  in  the  "Reminiscences,"  bl  ;  in  the  short  essay  on  the 
*'  Death  of  Goethe,"  87.  This  last  section  comraencen  with  the  second  paragraph  of  the 
eway,  and  contains  few  words  of  more  than  one  syllable.  These  test  selections  have  all 
been  nmde  at  random,  our  only  care  being  to  avoid  passages  containing  several  proper 
names  and  ttiose  disagreeable  home-made  adjectives  of  which  Mr.  Oarlyle  was  so  fond, 
word'<  generally  ending  in  "  ish."  They  seem  to  the  reader  to  have  tteen  brewed  in  that 
old  teniMtt  of  his.  Of  course  a  writer  could  put  together  intelligible  sentences  by  the 
yard  without  duplicating  his  words,  but  what  man  or  woman  does  without  effort,  and 
effort  painfully  apparent,  ever  achieve  this  phenomenal  result  ?  Probably  Mr.  Carlyle 
strove  to  keep  the  percentage  of  new  words  in  every  page  as  high  as  possible.  There  is 
reason  for  believing  that  his  beat  productions— those  that  pour  gurgling  from  the  author's 
heart — have  been  measored,  weighed,  every  drop  examined  in  his  {wnetrating  mental 
miottMoope,  before  it  went  forth  to  mingle  in  the  flood.  His  work  was  slow,  tiring,  and 
be  oame  to  the  conclusion  late  in  life  that  so  much  iiains  cost  too  much.  Still  Mr. 
Cartyle*t  fame  as  a  literary  artist  mast  have  fallen  short  if  he  had  been  less  careful  in 
his  strokea.— Jf.  C.  Adoocate. 

In  movement  there  must  be  a  like  variety.  Long 
sentences  must  be  interspersed  with  shorter  ones,  periodic 
structure  must  be  followed  by  sharp,  crisp  utterance  ;  the 
reader  must  be  kept  constantly  on  the  alert  for  something 
unexpected,  never  being  suffered  to  adjust  himself  to  a 
sing-song  gait  of  which  he  has  caught  tlie  rhythm. 

" It  is  here,**  says  Marmontel,  "that  we  perceive  the  force  of 
Liician*8  comparison  when  he  desireil  that  the  style  and  the 
thonpht,  like  a  horseman  and  his  horse,  might  be  of  one  will,  and 
move  together  harmomoQsly.'*  And,  as  the  same  author  adds,  this 
oratorical  motion  is  free  and  various ;  the  bold  and  skilfnl  horse- 
nan,  whose  steed  is  well-trained,  and  oWdient  to  the  whip  and 
pur,  may  sometimee  venture  to  leap  the  highest  fences  and  clear 


472  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

the  widest  ditches,  bnt  when  the  chase  is  over  he  will  slacken  his 
pace,  and  be  content  to  walk  slowly  along  the  well-beaten  bridle- 
path.— HSBYSY. 

In  La  FonUine,  ao  many  renea,  ao  tomnj  different  styles  of  thongbt  But  onoe  Mm- 
Billon  hita  on  •  certain  kind  of  •  sentence,  he  holds  on  to  it  with  a  death-like  grip,  page 
after  page.  Like  a  hone-oar  unable  to  leave  its  tramway,  like  a  canal-boat  which  cannot 
<iait  it«  canal,  oa  he  goea,  without  taming  an  inch  to  the  right  cr  left,  and  on  you  go  with 
him.  What  la  the  oonaeqaenoe  ?  A  monotony  thai  at  laat  palls  on  the  ear  and  actually 
stops  the  reader.  Baaldea,  eren  the  qilendkl  profuioa  of  words  in  not  without  ite  uni- 
formity. Hia  ineomparable  talmt  of  aetting  fortti  a  single  thought  under  rach  a  variety 
of  shapes  had  for  a  long  time  astoonded  me,  dasiled  me.  I  used  tu  take  for  a  new  idea 
what  was  nothing  but  the  same  idea  preaented  a^ain  and  again  under  Tarioun  different 
forma.  But  reading  aloud  soon  convinced  me  that  there  was  something  artificial  in  this 
eznberant  display.  I  began  to  feel  as  yon  feel  at  one  of  those  pieces  where  the  same 
actor  pretends  to  repreaent  five  or  six  different  peraonagea,  wh«reas  in  reality  the  only 
thing  changed  is  the  ooetome. 

Take  a  page  of  Saint-Simon,  if  yon  wish  to  realise  more  fnlly  the  idea  that  I  wish  to 
ooDTey.  He  too  repeats  the  aame  idea  ander  twenty  different  shapes,  but  he  does  no  as  a 
clever  magician  turns  one  object  into  fifty  by  the  blazing  reflection  of  dazzling  mirrors ; 
he  does  ao  with  the  fire  and  heat  of  a  man  who,  under  the  influence  uf  a  burning  impres- 
sion, always  considers  his  expressions  too  feeble  tu  adequately  reprenent  bis  ideas.  He 
fighte  and  atmgglea  with  his  words  to  compel  them  to  express  what  he  means.  He  whips 
his  language,  apurs  it,  tortures  it,  driven  it,  overloads  it,  until  at  last  it  obeys  him,  and 
becomes  just  as  passionate,  fiery,  and  headlong  as  himself. — LsGOUvi. 

Felicity  of  diction  is  more  than  exactness  and  clear- 
ness. It  expresses  the  idea  so  perfectly  that  the  mind 
lingers  for  an  instant  to  enjoy  the  perfection  itself. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  two  famous  epitaphs  by  the  poet  whose 
own  epitaph,  "  O  rare  Ben  Jonson,"  is  itself  a  remarkable  illustra- 
tion of  felicity  (note  quotations  from  the  first  on  page  222). 

ON  THE  COUNTESS  OF  PEMBEOKB. 

Underneath  this  sable  hearse, 
Lies  the  subject  of  all  verse. 
Sidney's  sister,  Pembroke's  mother ; 
Death  I  ere  thon  hast  slain  another 
Learned  and  fair,  and  good  as  she, 
Time  shall  throw  his  dart  at  thee. 

Marble  piles  let  no  man  raise 
To  her  name  in  after  days; 
Some  kind  woman,  bom  as  she, 
Reading  this,  like  Niobe 
Shall  turn  marble,  and  become 
Both  her  mourner  and  her  tomb. 


Chat.  XXIV.]  FELICITY.  473 

ON  MARGARBT  RATCLIFFB. 
M  arble  weep,  fur  thou  dont  ooTer 
A  dead  beauty  underneath  thee 
B  ich  as  nature  could  bequeath  thee : 

0  rant  then  no  rude  hand  remove  her. 
A  II  the  gazers  in  the  skies, 

B  ead  not  in  fair  heaven's  story 

E  xi»«aaer  truth  or  truer  glory 

T  h«n  they  might  in  her  bright  eyei. 

B  are  as  wonder  was  her  wit, 
A  nd  like  nectar  ever  flowing ; 
T  ill  time,  tstnag  by  her  bestowing, 
C  onquered  hath  both  life  and  it ; 
L  ife,  whoso  grief  was  out  of  fashion 

1  n  these  times.     Few  so  have  rued 
F  ate  in  A  brother.    To  oonclnde, 
F  or  wit,  feature,  and  true  passion, 
E  artb,  thou  bast  not  sach  another. 

In  the  history  of  the  world  what  has  really  preserved  the  mem- 
ories of  waiters  of  verse  has  not  been  intellectual  force,  or  the 
clear  expression  of  love  or  pity,  or  even  wit,  but  a  certain  indefin- 
able felicity  of  style,  a  jwwer  of  saying  things  as  they  never  wore 
said  before,  and  so  that  they  can  never  be  forgotten.  ...  It 
is  probable  that  this  will  preserve  his  [Poe'sj  verse,  like  a  rose 
petal  in  a  drop  of  glycerine,  bound  to  decay  because  of  its  ephem- 
eral and  disconnected  condition,  yet  never  actually  decaying. — 
PaU  MaU  Gazette. 

Every  one  is  familial-,  and  has  been  amused,  with  Macaulay's 
characteristic  assertion  that  •'  the  Puritan  hated  bear-baiting,  not 
because  it  gave  pain  to  the  bear,  but  because  it  gave  pleasure  to 
the  spectators."  Few  readers,  however,  are  probably  aware  that 
Hume  expresses  identically  the  same  idea.  •*  Bear-baiting,"  he 
says,  ••  was  esteemed  heathenish  and  unchristian  ;  the  sport,  not 
the  inhumanity,  gave  offence."  Inasmuch  as  Macaulay's  mot  is 
known  the  world  over  and  Himie's  scarcely  at  all,  we  have  an  evi- 
dence how  important  is  the  way  of  putting  things— more  impor- 
tant, it  seems,  so  far  as  notoriety  is  concerned,  than  the  idea 
iiaelL.—AppleUnCs  Journal. 

By  elevmrnaw  I  tomn  a  oomparatlTa  readin«M  in  the  inTenllon  and  om  of  meana  for 
the  naliaing  of  objecta  and  idaaa— oftan  of  siioh  ideas  which  the  man  of  gaaloaonly  oooM 
hav*  originated,  and  which  the  daver  man  parhaiM  neither  fully  oonprahfloda  nor  ada- 
qoald^  appnolataa,  avan  at  tlM  uooMiit  that  ha  la  prompting  or  4 


474  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

of  their  aooomplishment  In  ihart,  devMno—  ia  a  aort  of  genitu  for  inntrumenUlity.  It 
in  the  brain  in  the  hand.  In  UtanOore  daTemeaa  ia  more  frequently  aooompanied  by  wit, 
genius  and  eenms  by  humor.— CoLUHMS. 

The  fitting  word  is  always  a  prominent  element 
of  felicity.  Who  that  has  ever  heard  it  can  forget  the 
line, 

Her  Toioe  waa  erer  aoft,  gentle,  and  low  7 

Substitute  synonyms,  as, 

Her  tone  was  always  mild,  tranquil,  inbdned, 

and  what  is  there  to  linger  in  the  memory  ? 

As  the  result  of  all  my  reading  and  meilitation,  I  ahstracted  two 
critical  aphorisms,  deeming  them  to  comprise  the  conditions 
and  criteria  of  ix)etic  style  :  first,  that  not  the  jweni  wliich  we 
have  read,  hut  that  to  which  we  return  with  the  greatest  pleasure, 
possesses  the  genuine  power  and  claims  the  name  of  essential 
poetry ;  secondly,  that  whatever  lines  can  be  translated  into  other 
words  of  the  same  language  without  diminution  of  their  signifi- 
cance, either  in  sense  or  association,  or  in  any  worthy  feeling,  are 
so  far  vicious  in  their  diction. — CoiiERiDOE. 

Onomatopoeia^  or  a'  correspondence  between  the 
thing  signified  and  the  sound  of  the  word  employed,  is 
often  an  element  of  fitness.  In  the  line  from  "  Lear," 
just  quoted,  the  word  "  soft "  sounds  like  what  it  signifies, 
appealing  to  the  ear  as  well  as  to  the  eye,  and  thus  enter- 
ing the  mind  by  two  avenues  of  sense. 

Compare : 

Him  there  they  found 
Sqaat  like  a  toad  close  at  the  ear  of  Eve. — Milton. 

Grate  on  their  scrannel  pipes  of  wretched  straw.— Id. 

Thick  swarmed,  both  on  the  ground  and  in  the  air, 
Brushed  with  the  hiss  of  nistling  wings — Id, 

Her  voice  is  but  the  shadow  of  a  sound.— Young. 

Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone  ; 

The  huge  round  stone  returning  with  a  Ixmnd 

Thunders  impetuous  down,  and  smolces  along  the  ground.— Popb.         • 


CmxF.  XXIV.]  ONOMATOPCEIA.  476 

Tbete  eqiuU  lylUbles  alone  require 

Tho'  oft  the  tmr  the  open  vowels  tire, 

While  expIetivcM  their  feeble  aid  do  join 

And  ten  low  words  oft  creep  in  one  dall  line.— Id. 

Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flowi ; 

But  when  loud  sui^ges  lash  the  sounding  shore 

The  hoarse  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. — Id. 

What !   like  Sir  Richard,  rumbling,  rough,  and  fierce. 
With  arms,  and  Oeorge  and  Brunswick  crowd  the  verse. 
Bend  with  tremendous  sound  your  ears  asunder. 
With  gun,  drum,  trumpet,  blunderbuss  and  thunder  f 
Then  all  your  muse's  softer  art  display. 
Let  Carolina  smooth  the  tuneful  lay. 
Loll  with  Amelia's  liquid  name  the  Nine, 
And  sweetly  flow  through  all  the  royal  line.— Id. 

The  slender  acacia  would  not  shake 

One  long  milk-bloom  on  the  tree  ; 
The  white  lake-blossom  fell  into  the  lake 

While  the  piminimel  dozod  on  the  lea.— TnniTBOV. 

Here  the  plot  Ih  blanched 
By  God's  gift  of  a  purity  of  soul 
That  will  not  take  pollution,  ermine-like 
Armed  from  dishonor  by  its  own  soft  snow.— BKOWHnra. 

Pastiness  and  flatness  are  the  qualities  of  a  pancake,  and  thus 
far  he  attained  his  aim :  but  if  he  means  it  for  me,  let  him  place 
the  accessories  on  the  table  lest  what  is  insipid  and  clammy  .  .  . 
grow  into  duller  accretion  and  moister  Wscidity  the  more  I  masti- 
cate it. — Laxdou,  of  MWdxirorth. 

There  is  a  familiar  class  of  words  called  imUntire^  or,  to  use  a 
hard  term,  onomatopoetic,  where  there  is  an  evident  connection  be- 
tween the  sound  and  tho  sense.  These  are  all,  or  nearly  all,  words 
descriptive  of  ))articular  sounds,  or  acts  accompanied  by  charac- 
teristic sounds,  such  as  buzz,  crash,  gurgle,  gargle,  hum,  whiz, 
jar,  bellow,  roar,  whistle,  whine,  creak,  cluck,  gabble,*  and  in  con- 
versation we  often  allow  ourselves  to  use  wonls  of  this  class,  not  to 
be  found  in  the  largest  dictionaries.  The  remark  of  a  contempor- 
ary of  Dr.  Johnson's,  that  much  of  the  effect  of  his  conversation 
was  owing  to  his  "  bow-ioow  way,**  will  be  remembered  by  every 
one.     A  great  modem  i«*.ngimli  poet,  following  the  authority  of 


Oofnpaiv  him,  buif,  hrttar-dEeltcr,  namby-pamby,  hoitj-tol^,  rolj-polj, 
wOTy-nfWy,  i 


476  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

Sidney,  has  even  introdnced  into  verse  a  word  borrowed  from  the 
voice  of  the  sheep,  when  speaking  of  certain  censurable  follies  he 
calls  them  "  baaing  vanities.  "—Marsh. 

Besides  these  properties  in  words,  of  sweetness  or  harshness, 
strength  or  weakness,  there  is  another  quality  to  be  attended  to, 
which  is  expression,  or  the  peculiar  aptness  of  some  words  to  stand 
as  symbols  of  certain  ideas  preferably  to  others.  And  this  aptness 
arises  from  different  causes ;  the  first  and  most  striking  is  that  of 
imitation,  from  which  proceed  those  that  may  be  called  mimical 
sounds,  such  as  the  baa  of  the  sheep,  the  hiss  of  serpents,  the  mew 
and  />Mrr  of  cats,  the  hotel  of  the  wolf,  the  bray  of  an  ass,  the 
whinny  of  a  horse,  the  caic  of  the  i-aven.  .  .  .  Such  words  con- 
tain a  power  of  expression  from  a  natural  resemblance  which  can 
never  belong  to  signs  merely  instituted.  After  these  mimical  words, 
whose  whole  sounds  are  nearly  the  same  with  those  formed  by  the 
several  animals  from  which  they  were  taken,  there  is  another 
class  which  bears  a  fainter  resemblance,  merely  from  some  letters 
contained  in  them,  which  were  borrowed  from  the  animal  world. 
Thus  among  the  vowels  a  was  borrowed  from  the  crow,  a  from  the 
goat,  a  from  the  sheep,  oo  from  the  dove,  o  from  the  ox,  ow  from 
the  dog,  etc.  Of  the  consonants,  we  boiTowed  the  b  from  the 
sheep,  k  from  the  crow,  m  fi-omjthe  ox,  r  from  the  dog,  s  from  the 
serpent,  th  from  the  goose.  We  have  also  sounds  resembling  those 
made  by  inanimate  objects.  Thus  /  is  like  the  sound  of  winds 
blowing  through  certain  chinks.  V  is  the  noise  made  by  some 
spinning-wheels  when  i-apidly  moved.  Sk  is  the  sound  made  by 
squibs  and  rockets  previous  to  explosion.  S  by  the  flight  of  darts. 
-^  by  a  bell. — Sheridan. 

Care  must  be  taken  to  employ  onomatopoeia  only  as  a 
means  to  more  perfect  expression ;  if  used  for  its  own 
sake,  it  meets  the  common  fate  of  all  affectation. 

Especially  must  the  misuse  of  words  of  this  character 
be  avoided.  Poe,  who  uses  onoraatopceia  with  great  eflFect, 
tells  most  happily  of 

— ^the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  swells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells  ; 

but  when  Dickens  in  "  Dombey  and  Son  "  speaks  of  "  the 


Chap.  XXIV.]  TAUTOPHONY.  477 

tintinnabulation  of  the  gong  "  we  stare  at  the  page  with 
wonder  that  his  taste  could  have  permitted  the  use  of  a 
figure  so  incongruous. 

Tautophony,  or  the  repetition  of  the  same  sound,  is 
usually  a  defect  iu  composition,  but  is  sometimes  employed 
with  happy  effect  to  produce  a  peculiar  emphasis. 

Thus  Epictetus  says  that  all  philosophy  lies  in  two  words,  sus- 
tain and  abstain.  The  resemblance  of  the  two  words  makes  it 
easier  to  remember  their  distinction. 

Shedd  is  fond  of  this  figure,  as,  for  instance  : 

Bnential  truth  in  the  tUment,  and  the  alimetu,  of  a  ratioDal  mind,  and  nothing  tbort 
of  this  form  of  trath  can  long  Radsfy  its  wanta.     [The  oae  of  "  short "  and  "  long  "  is  here 


But  such  usage  is  permitted  only  when  the  contrast  between 
the  two  words  is  marked  and  obvious.  On  page  87  of  this  book 
will  be  found  two  instances;  "omitting — admitting,"  and  "in- 
stinctive—distinctive." For  the  first  pair  there  is  a  reason,  but  the 
second  pair  is  due  to  a  slip  of  the  pen  that  oversight  did  not  cor- 
rect. 

This  Usage  easily  slides  into  punning  (seepages  117- 
122),  which  to  a  certain  e.xtent  is  permissible  when  plainly 
a  means  to  the  forcible  expression  of  an  idea.  "  Truth  is 
mighty,"  announces  one  stump-speaker,  impressively. 
"  Yes,  it  is  mighty,"  retorts  his  opponent,  sarcastically, 
"  mighty  scarce."  There  is  always  a  certain  satisfaction 
in  seeing  the  person  attacking  beaten  by  liis  own  weapons, 
and  this  occurs  when  his  words  are  so  dexterously  turned 
as  to  tell  against  him. 

••You  are  nothing  but  a  demagogue,"  said  a  tipsy  fellow  to 
Tom  Marshall,  who  promptly  replied  :  '•  Put  a  wisp  of  straw  around 
you,  and  you  will  be  nothing  but  a  demijohn." 

What  is  mind  ?    No  matter. 

What  is  matter  ?    Never  mind. 

*•  We  must  all  hang  together,"  urged  Hnnco«k.  :u  m  ,    i:    signing 


478  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  ;  **  Yes,"  added  Franklin,  "  or 
we  shall  all  hang  separately." 

A  London  paper  says  that  **  Mrs.  Alma  Tadema  wore  at  a  recent 
reception  a  dress  of  gold  brocade,  made  with  a  ciiirass  bodice, 
with  shoulder-straps  of  gold  guipuie,  and  a  plain  petticoat  of  gold 
color,  trimmed  with  a  deep  gold  ruche,  the  inside  of  which  was 
lined  with  gray-gi'een  satin."  The  Chicago  Tribune  understands 
that  Mr.  Alma  Tadema  wore  a  look  of  fixed  melancholy. 

Hew  thou,  gTMt  Anna,  whom  three  wwlda  obey, 

Doat  eoinetimeii  coanwl  take,  and  aometimes  tea.— Pops. 

The  pun  must  be  appropriate  to  tlie  occasion,  and  its 
purpose  manifest,  or  it  will  seem  an  oversiglit ;  as  when 
Max  Miiller  declares,  that  "  Sound  etymology  Las  noth- 
ing to  do  with  sound." 

Compare  the  use  of  tlie  same  words  on  page  QQ. 

The  use  of  the  same  word  successively  as  two  different 
parts  of  speech  is  usually  to  be  avoided ;  yet  under  this 
principle  it  is  sometimes  effective,  as  in  the  following 
sentence,  where  "  more "  is  used  first  as  an  adjective  and 
then  as  an  adverb. 

That  he  should  be  in  earnest  it  is  hard  to  conceive  ;  since  any 
reasons  of  doubt  which  he  might  have  in  this  case  would  have 
been  reasons  of  doubt  in  the  case  of  other  men,  who  may  give 
more  but  cannot  give  more  evident  signs  of  thought  than  their 
fellow-creatures.  — Bolingbroke. 

Care  must  of  course  be  taken  not  to  be  misled  by  the 
resemblance  of  sound.  "  1  never  get  over  a  first  feeling 
of  repulsion,"  says  a  young  writer ;  "  if  I  am  once  re- 
pulsed."    But  what  he  means  is,  "  if  I  am  once  repelled." 

"  I  wish  to  be  a  friend  to  the  friendless,"  said  a  gushing  speaker 
at  a  benevolent  meeting,  **  a  father  to  the  fatherless,  and  widow 
to  the  widowless." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  object  to  standing  on  a  platform  and  allowing  in- 
formation to  ooze  out  of  me — to  use  Mark  Twain's  simile — hke 
ottar  of  roses  out  of  the  otter  !  " 


Chap.  XXIV.J  ALLITERATION.  479 

Alliteration,  or  the  use  of  successive  words  begin- 
ning with  the  same  letter,  is  a  form  of  tautophon y,  and  is 
often  employed  witli  liappy  effect,  especially  in  j)oetry. 

So  far  has  this  figure  been  carried  that  long  poems  and 
stories  have  been  written,  in  which  every  word  began  with 
the  same  consonant. 

CACOPHONOUS  COUPLET  ON  CARDINAL  WOLSEY. 
Begot  by  bntchern,  but  by  bUhops  bred, 
How  high  Ilia  honor  holtlH  hit>  hHiighty  head. 

Mrs.  Crawford  says  she  wrote  one  line  in  her  **  Kathleen  Ma- 
voumeen"  on  puii>ose  to  confound  the  CJockney  warblers,  who 
would  sing  it, 

The  'om  of  the  'unter  Ir  'eard  on  the  'ilL 

So  Moore — 

A  *eart  tbMt  la  ^omble  might  'ope  for  it  'ere. 

Or: 

Ha  helephant  heasily  heats  hat  his  hease 
Hunder  hambrageoiu  humbrella  treea  I 

Whole  poems  have  been  written  wherein  every  word  begins 
with  the  same  letter.  Of  these  the  best  known  is  the  ''Pugna 
Porcorum,"  containing  about  three  hundred  lines,  every  one  of 
which  begins  \i'ith  the  letter  P.  .  .  .  The  poem"DeLaude 
CSalvomm  "  is  perhai>s  the  most  curious  literary  i>erformance  in  the 
world.  This  }>oom  of  one  hundred  and  forty  lines,  every  word  of 
which  begins  with  a  C,  was  composed  in  honor  of  Charles  the 
Bald,  by  Hugbaldi  or  Hugbald,  a  monk  who  flourished  about  the 
year  876. 

Perhaps  the  best  English  alliterative  verse  is  the  following  : 


army,  awfully  arrayed. 
Boldly  by  batteiy  bedege  Belgnule: 

;  coBimandwa  ounMmading  come, 
I'a  deraatating  doom ; 

•y. 

For  Hum,  for  foctane  llghUng— f ariooii  fray. 
OcMrala  'gainat  lanerala  grapple ;  grMsiooa  God, 
Bow  honora  Heaven  heroic  hardihood  I 
laftttete.  indliorimiDaie  in  ill, 
KUumea  kUl  kinaaian,  kindred  kinamen  kW. 
Labor  km  leveb  k>rUort,  kMigmt  Unea ; 
Men  march  *aid  wownd*.  'mid  molea,  *mld  mnrdarona  minac ; 


480  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

Now  noisy  nozioiu  niimban  aotioe  nanght 

Of  uutward  obstaclea  oppoHing  ought ; 

Poor  |>atriot8,  partly  purchaaed,  partly  prened. 

Quite  quaking,  quickly  "  Qoarter  I  Quarter  i "  qaart. 

Reason  returns,  religious  right  redoiuids. 

Sorrow  soon  stops  suoh  sanguinary  sounds. 

Truoe  to  thee,  Turkey,  triumph  to  thy  twain. 

Unjust,  unwise,  unmerciful  Ukraine  I 

Vanish  vain  Tictory  !  vanish  viotoiy  rain  I 

Why  with  we  warfare  ?    Wherefore  wdoome  were 

Xerxes,  Zimenes,  Xanthus,  Xavier  ? 

Yield,  yield,  ye  youth ;  ye  yeomen,  yidd  your  ydl, 

Zeno*R,  Zanwte's,  Zoroaster's  seal, 

Attnu^ng  all,  arms  against  arms  appiil  ! 

With  like  waste  of  labor  the  Lipogrammatists  excluded  some 
particular  letter  from  their  compositions,  while  the  Pangramma- 
lists  crowd  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  into  each  of  their  sen- 
tences. Both  these  attempts  are  shown  in  the  following  stanza 
written  with  ease  without  e's.  ^ 

A  jovial  swain  may  rack  his  brain. 

And  tax  his  fancy's  might, 
To  quiz  in  vain,  for  ^tis  most  plain. 

That  what  I  say  is  right. 

Lord  Holland,  in  1824,  wrote  a  story,  called  "  Eve's  Legend," 
that  contained  no  other  vowel  except  e. 

The  Acrostic  is  a  poem  in  which  the  first  letters  of  the  succes- 
sive lines  spell  a  word  that  is  the  subject  of  the  whole.  The 
actress  Rachel  received  the  most  delicate  compliment  the  acrostic 
has  ever  paid.  A  diadem  set  with  precious  stones  was  given  to 
her,  so  arranged  that  the  initials  of  the  names  of  the  successive 
stones  were  in  their  order  the  initials  of  six  of  her  principal  parts, 
and  in  their  order  formed  her  name,  thus  : 

R  uby,  R  oxana. 

A  methyst,  A  meniade. 

C  omelian,  C  amille. 

H  ematite,  H  ermione. 

E  merald,  E  milie. 

L  apis  Lazuli,  L  aodice. 

In  No.  60  of  the  Spectator y  Addison  says  of  the  Chrcniogravi : 

This  kind  of  wit  ap))ears  very  often  on  modem  medala,  especially  those  of  Gtermany, 
when  they  represent  in  the  inscription,  the  year  in  which  they  were  coined.  Thus  we 
see  on  a  medal  of  Gustavus  Adolphiis  the  following  words  : 

ChrlstVs  DuX  ergo  trlVMphVs. 


Chap.  XXIV.]  ANAGRAMS.  481 

If  yoa  take  the  painii  to  pick  the  figrurea  oat  of  the  several  words,  and  range  them  in 
tbelr  proper  order,  you  will  find  that  they  amoiuit  to  MDCXVVVIL,  or  IG'-T.,  the  year  iu 
which  the  medal  was  Htamped  ;  for,  aa  some  of  the  letters  di«tingui«ih  tlteniselves  from 
the  reat,  and  overtop  their  fellows,  they  are  to  be  considered  in  a  double  cai>acity,  both  aa 
leCtofa  and  aa  flgorea.  Your  laborious  Germim  wito  will  turu  over  a  whole  dictionary  for 
DIM  of  these  ingeniona  Aevioea.  A  man  would  think  they  were  searching  aft^-r  an  apt 
'  lanical  term ;  but,  Instead,  they  are  looking  out  a  word  that  has  an  M,  an  L,  or  a  D  in 
When,  therefore,  we  meet  with  any  of  these  inscriptions,  we  are  not  so  much  to  look 
ill  thorn  for  the  thought,  as  for  the  year  of  the  Lord. 

The  Anagram  hides  the  word  signified  by  transposing  the  let- 
t  ora  HO  as  to  form  a  new  word. 

Camden  gravely  announced  that  the  following  anagram  showed 
the  "undoubted  rightful  claim  to  the  monarchy  of  Britain,  as 
successor  of  the  valorous  King  Arthur,"  of  the  prince  whose  name 
was  transposed : 

Charles  James  Stuart— Claims  Arthur's  seat 

Here  is  another : 

James  Stuart— A  jnat  master. 

Lady  Eleanor  Davies,  wife  of  the  poet  Sir  John  Davies,  was  the 
Cassandra  of  her  day ;  and  as  her  prophecies,  in  the  troubled 
times  of  Charles  EL.,  were  usually  against  the  Government,  she  was 
at  one  time  brought  into  the  High  Court  of  Commission.  She  was 
not  a  little  mad,  and  fancied  the  spirit  of  Daniel  was  in  her,  from 
an  anagram  she  had  formed  of  her  own  name  : 

Bleanor  Davies- Reveal,  O  Dnniel ! 

This  anagram  hatl  too  much  by  an  1,  and  ioo  little  by  an  s,  bui 
such  trifles  as  these  were  no  check  to  her  aspirations.  The  court 
attempted  to  expel  the  spirit  from  the  lady  ;  and  the  bisnops 
argued  the  point  with  her  out  of  Holy  Writ ;  but  to  no  purpose. 
She  returned  text  for  text,  until  one  of  the  deans  of  the  Arclies, 
says  Heylin,  "  shot  her  through  and  through  with  an  arrow  bor- 
rowed from  her  own  quiver."    Taking  up  a  pen,  he  wrote  : 

Dame  Bleanor  Daviea— Never  so  nuul  a  ladle ! 

This  happy  fancy  set  the  solemn  court  to  laughing,  and  drove 
Cassandra  to  the  utmost  dejection  of  spirits.  Foiled  by  her  own 
wea)K)n,  her  energy  forsook  her ;  and  either  she  never  afterward 
ventured  to  enrol  herself  among  the  onler,  or  the  anagram  dis- 
imned  her  uttennoes,  for  we  hear  no  more  of  her  among  the 
prophets. 


482  PBRFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

In  Hhophalic  Verses  a  mouobyllable  is  followed  by  a  dissyllable, 
a  trisyllable,  aud  so  on  to  the  end  of  the  line.  The  Palindronie 
reads  the  same  either  backward  or  forward ;  like  this,  ascribed  to 
Napoleon : 

AblP  was  I  era  I  mm  Elba ; 

or  this,  quite  as  plausibly  reported  as  the  first  speech  of  the  first 
man: 

Equivocal  Verse  reads  one  way  acroBS  both  of  two  columns,  and 
quite  another  when  each  column  is  taken  separately.    Thus  : 

THB  HOUSES  OP  BTUaRT  AND  HANOVER. 

I  loTe  with  all  my  heart  The  Tory  party  here 

The  Hanoverian  part  Moat  hatefnl  doth  appear ; 

And  for  that  settlement  I  ever  have  denied 

Mj  oonaoienoe  gives  oonaent,  To  be  on  James's  nide. 

Most  rightaoDS  is  the  oansa  To  fight  for  Ruch  a  king 

To  light  for  George^  laws,  Will  EiiRland's  ruin  bring. 

It  is  my  mind  and  heart  In  this  opinion,  I 

Though  none  will  take  my  part,  Retiolve  to  live  and  die. 

Serpentine  Letters  in  like  manner  convey  one  meaning  when  read 
down  each  page,  but  a  contrary  when  read  across  both  pages.  The 
swindling  contract  on  page  201  is  an  illustration. 

Cento  Verse  is  made  up  by  patching  together  lines  from  stand- 
ard poems.     Thus : 

The  heath  this  night  must  be  my  bed,— Scott. 

Ye  vales,  ye  Rtreamf.  ye  groves,  adieu  !— Pops. 
Farewell  for  aye,  e'en  love  is  d<  ad,— Pbocteb. 

Would  I  conld  add,  remembrance  too !— BraoN. 

In  Concntenatioriy  or  chain-wi-iting,  the  last  word  or  phrase  in 
«ach  line  is  taken  for  the  beginning  of  the  next.     Thus  : 

TRUTH. 
Nerve  thy  soul  with  doctrines  noble. 
Noble  in  the  walks  of  time, 
Time  that  leads  to  an  eternal. 
An  eternal  life  sublime ; 
Life  sublime  in  moral  beauty, 
Beauty  that  shall  ever  be ; 
Ever  be  to  lure  thee  onward. 
Onward  to  the  fountain  free ; 
Free  to  every  earnest  seeker. 
Seeker  for  the  Fount  of  Youth, 
Youth  exultant  in  its  beauty, 
Beauty  of  the  living  truth- 


Chap.  XXIV.)  FORM.  ^83 

Echo  Verses  have  been  famous  in  every  tongue.     Thus  : 

Echo,  my«teriou8  nymph,  declare 

Of  what  yuu're  made,  and  what  you  are. 

£dU>— Airl 

Ben  JoQson  speaks  of  "A  xmir  of  scissors  and  a  comb  in 
verse,"  and  the  Spectator  ridicules  the  fantastically  shaped  ])oem8, 
axes,  eggs,  altars,  etc.,  of  which  a  Greek  ix>et,  Theodoric,  is  said 
to  have  been  the  inventor.     One  of  the  best  is  the  following  : 

THE  WINE-GLASS. 

Who  hath  woe?    Who  hath  worrow? 

Who   hatJj  contentions?     Who 

hath  woiuuIk  without  cause? 

Who  hath  redness  of  eyes? 

They  that  tarry  long  at  the 

wine.     They    that   go  to 

acck  mixed  wine.     Look 

not    thou    ui>on  the 

wine  when  it  is  red, 

when  itgivethits 

color  in  tho 

CUP; 

when  it 

moTcth  itself 

aright. 

At 

the  last 

it  biteth  like  a 

serpent,  and  stingcth  like  an  adder. 

Further  illustrations  of  this  misapplied  ingenuity  in  the 
construction  of  verse  will  be  found  in  Morgan's  "  Maca- 
ronic Poetry,"  from  which  most  that  has  been  said  on  the 
subject  has  been  taken.  AVe  have  treated  the  subject  thus 
fully  in  order  to  impress  the  principle  that  the  moment 
form  is  studied  for  itself,  and  not  for  what  it  expresses, 
the  exercise  is  no  longer  literary  composition.  We  have 
used  the  word  Perfection  in  preference  to  Beauty  in  speak- 
ing of  this  quality  of  style,  because  the  only  legitimate 
beauty  of  written  language  is  the  perfection  with  which  it 
expresses  the  idea.  F'orget  the  idea,  study  beauty  for  tlie 
sake  of  beauty,  permit  the  insertion  or  the  retention  of  an 


484  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

unnecessary'  sentence  for  the  sake  of  its  euphony,  and  the 
composition  is  degraded  from  the  expression  of  thought 
into  sometliing  akin  to  riddle-making. 

The  principal  advantage  of  an  acquaintance  with 
form-peculiarities  is  readiness  in  discerning  and  discarding 
them  when  they  accidentally  appear.  More  than  once  has 
a  newspaper  been  misled  into  publishing  a  libellous  Acros- 
tic, because  the  editor  did  not  glance  down  the  first  letters 
of  the  lines  when  he  read  the  little  poem  handed  in  ;  and 
hundreds  of  farmers  would  have  escaped  a  swindle  had 
they  applied  the  principle  of  Sei'pentine  Letters  to  the 
contract  shown  on  page  201.  Commonest  of  all  the  errors 
under  this  head,  however,  is  Tautophony.  Only  the  most 
experienced  writers  can  afford  to  let  an  essay  appear  befoie 
they  have  glanced  through  it  to  see  that  the  same  sound 
is  not  unintentionally  repeated  in  a  way  to  catch  the  ear 
unpleasantly.     Thus : 

Scene  at  Continental  knrsaal:  English  party  at  card  table — 
*•  Hello,  we  are  two  to  two."  English  party  at  opposite  table  — 
**  We  are  two  to  two,  too."  German  spectator,  who  **  speaks  Eng- 
lish," to  companion  who  is  acquiring  the  language — "Veil,  now 
you  see  how  dis  is.  OflF  you  want  to  gife  expression  to  yourself  in 
English  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  blay  mit  der  French  horn!  "  — 
iV.  V.  Sun.   " 

The  fact  is,  the  rales  of  emphasis  come  in  in  interruption  of 
your  supposed  general  law  of  position. — Alford. 

I  used  the  word  in  an  unusual  sense,  but  at  the  same  time  one 
fully  sanctioned  by  usage. — Id. 

Mayhe  I  may  be  able  to  come  before  the  year  is  out. — Charles 
Lamb. 

Find  other  illustrations  on  pages  75,  125,  235. 

Exercise. — Vary  the  expression  so  as  to  escape  tautoph- 
ony in  the  following  sentences  : 

In  a  calm  moonlight  night  the  sea  is  a  most  beautiful  object  to 


Chap.  XXIV.]  TAUTOPHONY.  485 

see.  The  abilities  as  well  as  the  virtues  of  King  Alfred  justly  en- 
titled him  to  the  title  of  the  Great.  To  oppose  this  formidable  in- 
vasion, the  Royalists  were  divided  into  four  divisions.  Napoleon's 
ambition  led  him  to  aspire  to  universal  dominion,  the  pursuit  of 
which  finally  led  to  his  complete  overthrow.  The  vn-itings  of  Bu- 
chanan are  written  with  strength,  perspicuity,  and  neatness.  The 
same  character  has  churadeiHzed  their  descendants  in  modem  times. 
The  few  who  regarded  them  in  their  true  light  were  regarded  as 
mere  dreamers.  It  is  not  the  least  of  the  many  attractions  that  per- 
manently atti-act  sti-angers  to  the  French  capital.  This  renowned 
fortress  was  of  the  very  highest  imjx)rtance  from  its  strength  and 
important  situation.  Wellington  was  anxious  to  be  relieved  from 
all  anxiety  in  that  quarter.  The  designs  of  Providence  extend  to 
the  extension  and  dis^^ersion  of  the  species.  Seduced  by  these  flat- 
tering appearances,  the  monarch  appears  for  a  time  to  have  trusted 
to  the  pleasing  hope  that  his  difficulties  were  at  an  end. 

Avoidance  of  tautopliony,  especially  of  the  repetition 
of  the  same  woi'd,  may,  however,  be  carried  so  far  as  to 
obscure  the  sense  (see  page  411).  Thus  Marsh  writes 
("  Lectures  on  the  English  Language,"  page  22) : 

I  must  here  once  for  all  make  the  sad  concession  that  many  of 
Chaucer's  works  are  disfigured,  stained,  polluted,  by  a  gi-ossness 
of  thought  and  of  language  which  strangely  and  painfully  con- 
trasts with  the  delicacy,  refinement,  and  moral  elevation  of  his 
other  productions. 

Here  we  have  ''woikh*'  apparently  contrasted  with 
"  productions,"  as  though  they  were  two  different  things. 
The  author  might  much  better  have  said  "of  his  other 
works;"  though  indeed,  "of  the  others,"  or  "of  the  rest," 
would  be  precise  and  perspicuous. 

Compare  the  following : 

It  is  said  there  was  an  Amsterdam  merchant  who  had  don  It 
largely  in  com  all  his  life,  who  had  never  seen  a  field  of  wlu  at 
growing :  this  man  had  doubtless  acquired  by  experience  an  accu- 
rate judgment  of  the  qualities  of  each  description  of  com,— of  the 


486  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

best  methods  of  storing  it,  of  the  arts  of  buying  and  selling  it  at 
proper  times,  etc. ;  but  he  would  have  been  greatly  at  a  loss  in  its 
cultivation,  though  he  had  been,  in  a  certain  way,  long  conversant 
about  com. 

Campbell  has  well  remarked : 

It  is  justly  observed  by  Abb€  Girard  that  when  a  performance 
grows  dull  through  an  excess  of  uniformity,  it  is  not  so  much  be- 
cause the  ear  is  tired  by  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  sound, 
as  because  the  mind  is  fatigued  by  the  fretjuent  recurrence  of  the 
same  idea.  If,  therefore,  there  be  a  remarkable  paucity  of  ideas,  a 
diversity  of  wortis  will  not  answer  the  purpose,  or  give  to  the  work 
an  agreeable  appearance  of  variety.  On  the  contrary,  when  an 
author  is  at  great  jiains  to  vary  his  expressions,  and  for  this  jjur- 
pose  even  deserts  the  common  road,  he  will,  to  an  intelligent 
reader,  but  the  more  expose  his  poverty  the  more  he  is  solicitous 
to  conceal  it. 

Proverbs,  Aphorisms,  Apothegms,  Para- 
doxes, and  Epigrams  admit  considerable  attention  to 
form,  being  usually  marked  by  antithesis,  climax,  tautoph- 
onj,  alliteration,  and  other  figures  that  would  be  oppres- 
sive in  continued  discourse. 

Proverbs,  "  the  wit  of  one  and  the  wisdom  of  many," 
forcibly  express  some  practical  truth,  the  result  of  expe- 
rience or  observation  ;  as,  "  He  runs  far  that  never  turns." 

The  pithy  quaintness  of  old  Howell  has  admirably  described 
the  ingredients  of  an  exquisite  proverb  to  be  sense^  shortness,  and 
salt.     .     .     . 

Proverbs  have  often  resulted  from  the  spontaneous  emotions  or 
the  performed  reflections  of  some  extraordinary  individual,  whose 
energetic  expression  was  caught  by  a  faithful  ear,  never  to  perish. 
— Disraeli. 

A  woman  is  as  old  as  she  looks ; 
A  man  as  old  as  he  feels. 

Aphorisms  differ  from  proverbs  in  relating  to  ab- 
stract truth,  rather  than  to  practical  matters.     An  apho- 


Chap.  XXIV.  J  APOTHEGMS.  4^87 

risin  is  the  snbstance  of  a  doctrine,  and  is  characterized  by 
the  disproportion  between  the  simplicity  of  the  expression 
and  the  richness  of  the  sentiment  conveyed  by  it  (Smith) ; 
as,  Hypocrisy  is  the  homage  vice  pays  to  virtue. 

That  aphorism  of  the  wise  man,  "The  desire  of  the  slothful 
killeth  him,  for  his  hands  refuse  to  labor." — Barrow. 

Censure  is  the  tax  a  man  pays  to  the  pubUc  for  being  eminent. 
— Swift. 

There  are  calumnies  against  which  even  innocence  loses  cour- 
age.—Napoleon. 

There  is  a  great  difference  between  an  egg  and  an  egg-shell,  but 
at  a  distance  they  look  very  much  alike. — Coleridge. 

Thought  widens,  but  lames ;  activity  narrows,  but  quickens. — 
Goethe. 

Men  ride  their  arguments  as  children  their  horses.  They  put 
their  legs  over  a  stick,  i-un  far  afield,  and  make  believe  that  the 
stick  has  carried  them. — Dallas. 

Custom  has  no  power  over  us  except  as  it  implies  sympathy 
^lith  ourselves  in  past  conditions. — Id. 

Incredulity  is  but  Credulity  seen  from  behind,  bowing  and  nod- 
ding assent  to  the  Habitual  and  the  Fashionable. — Coleridge. 

Thought  is  Uke  the  spring  of  a  watch,  most  powerful  when  meet 
compressed. 

Wisdom  consists  in  the  ready  and  accurate  perception  of  anal- 
ogies. — Whately. 

Apothegms  are  in  common  matters  what  aphorisms 
are  in  higher.  Their  characteristic  is  terseness,  as  shown 
in  PwicfCs  advice  to  those  about  to  be  married  :  "  Don't." 

Maurice  Block  describes  the  American  press  as  "  des|x>tism  tem- 
pered by  aHHftSHJnation. '*—AUanlic  Monthli/. 

*'I  would  bestow  my  daughter,"  said  Themistoclos,  "upon  a 
man  without  money,  rather  than  upon  money  without  a  man." 

My  hving  in  Yorkshire  was  so  far  out  of  the  way  that  it  was 
actually  twelve  miles  from  a  lemon. — Sidvey  Smith. 

The  following  notes  passed  between  two  celebrated  comedians  : 

Dbab  J :  Baud  mo  »  lOiUUng.  Yoan,  B. 

r.8.— Oo  Moond  tboagbtt,  main  It  two. 


^88  PERFECTION.  [Part  IV. 

To  which  his  friend  replied  : 

DXAB  B :  I  have  bat  one  shilling  in  the  world.  Toara,  J. 

P.8. — On  second  thoughts,  I  want  that  for  dinner. 

The  reason  why  so  few  marriages  are  happy  is  because  young 
ladies  spend  their  time  in  making  nets,  not  in  making  cages.  — 
Swift. 

Fontenelle  declared  that  the  secret  of  happiness  is  to  have  the 
heart  cold  and  the  stomach  warm. 

Montesquieu  put  forth  a  wicked  epigram,  that  the  only  good  book 
of  the  Spaniards  is  that  which  exposes  the  absurdity  of  all  the  rest. 

Paragraphers  get  very  wealthy  if  they  live  long  enough.  The 
chief  difficulty  with  them  is  to  get  money  to  live  long  enough. 

This  reminds  me  of  the  boy  who  grew  impatient  at  the  slow 
grinding  of  the  wheat  he  had  brought  to  mill.  '•  I  could  eat  that 
flour  faster  than  you  turn  it  out,"  he  said  to  the  miller.  "  How 
long?"     "Till  I  starved." 

Mark  Twain  was  asked  to  contribute  to  the  paper  issued  at  the 
fair  in  aid  of  abused  children,  in  Boston,  and  responded  as  follows : 

Habtford,  November  30,  1880. 

DmjlM  EorroBS  :  I  do  it  with  pleasure,  .  .  .  but  I  also  do  it  with  pain,  because 
I  am  not  In  favor  of  this  movement.  Why  should  I  want  a  "  Society  for  the  Prevention 
of  Cruelty  to  Children  "  to  prosper,  when  I  have  a  baby  down-stairs  that  kept  me  awake 
•everal  hours  last  night,  with  no  pretext  whatever  for  it  but  a  desire  to  make  me  trouble  ? 
This  occurs  every  night,  and  it  embitters  me,  because  I  see  how  needless  it  was  to  put  in 
the  other  burglar  alarm,  a  costly  and  complicated  contrivance  which  cannot  be  depended 
on,  because  it's  always  getting  out  of  order  and  won't  ' '  go."  whereas,  although  the  baby 
is  always  getting  out  of  order,  too,  it  can  nevertheless  be  depended  on,  for  the  reason  that 
the  more  it  does  g^t  out  of  order  the  more  it  does  go. 

Yes,  I  am  bitter  against  your  society,  for  I  think  the  idea  of  it  is  all  wrong ;  but  if 
you  will  start  a  Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to  Fathers,  I  will  write  you  a  whole 
book.  Yours,  with  emotion, 

Mark  Twain. 

Life  would  be  tolerably  agreeable  if  it  were  not  for  its  pleas- 
ures.— Sir  George  CoRXEWAiiL  Lewis. 

Our  knowledge  consists  in  tracing  ignorance  as  far  back  as  pos- 
sible.— ROYER  CoiiLARD. 

I  do  not  love  even  his  faults. — Sheridan. 

Artemas  Ward  voted  during  the  late  Civil  war  for  Henry  Clay. 
*'  I  admit  that  Henry  is  dead,"  he  explained,  **  but  inasmuch  as  we 
don't  seem  to  have  a  live  statesman  in  our  National  Congress,  by 
all  means  let  us  have  a  first-class  corpse." 


Chap.  XXIV. )  PARADOXES.  489 

Paradoxes  are  seemingly  absurd  in  appearance  and 
language,  but  true  in  fact.     Thus  : 

Of  Mr.  Grote,  the  historian  of  Greece,  and  Mrs.  Grote,  Sidney 
Smith  once  wittily  said  :  "  I  do  like  them  both  so  much,  for  he  is 
so  ladylike,  and  she  is  such  a  perfect  gentleman  ! " 

Thackeray's  idea  of  a  dandy  is  given  in  the  following  note  : 
"My  dear  Edward, — A  *  dandy  '  is  an  individual  who  would  be  a 
lady  if  he  co\ild,  but  as  he  can't,  does  all  he  can  to  show  the  world 
he's  not  a  man." 

A  beau  is  everything  of  a  woman  but  the  sex,  and  nothing  of  a 
man  beside  it. — Fielding. 

There  are  lots  of  men  who  have  attained  high  reputation  for 
strict  attention  to  business,  but  the  trouble  has  been  it  wasn't 
t  heir  own  business. — Marathon  Independent. 

Glucose  is  described  in  a  recent  French  paper  as  follows  : 
"  Glucoso — a  product  with  which  wine  is  manufactured  without 
grapes,  cider  without  apples,  and  confectionery  without  sugar." 

Definitions  of  the  Period. — A  privileged  person — One  who  is  so 
much  a  savage  when  thwarted  that  civilized  persons  avoid  thwart- 
ing him. 

A  liberal-minded  man — One  who  disdains  to  prefer  right  to 
wrong. 

Radicals — Men  who  maintain  the  supposed  right  of  each  of  us 
to  help  niin  all. 
^     Liberals — Men  who  flatter  radicals. 

Conservatives — Men  who  give  way  to  radicals. 

A  domestic  woman — A  woman  like  a  domestic. 

Humor — Thinking  in  fun  while  we  feel  in  earnest. 

A  musical  woman — One  who  has  strength  enough  to  make 
much  noise  and  obtnseness  enough  not  to  mind  it. — Gboboe  Eliot. 

I  owe  much ;  I  have  nothing.  I  leave  the  rest  to  the  poor. — 
Rabblaib's  WiiL 

When  the  superannuated  statesman  went  to  Iiis  rest :  "  Lamar- 
tine  has  ceased  to  surviye  himself,"  announced  a  Paris  journal. 

Prince  Mettemich  remarked  to  the  best-dressed  lady  of  the 
Second  Empire  :  "  I  notice  that  your  bonnets  grow  smaller  and 
smaller,  and  the  bills  larger  and  larger.  One  of  these  days  the 
milliner  will  bring  nothing  but  the  bili" 


TOPICAI.  ANALYSIS. 


Perfection. 

Epigrams,  p.  467. 

Retort,  p.  467. 

Brilliancjr,  p.  467. 

Euphony,  p.  469. 

Reading  the  essay  aloud,  p.  470. 

Variety  in  words,  p  470. 

Variety  in  movement,  p.  471. 

Felicity  of  diction,  p.  472. 

The  fitting  word,  p.  474. 

Onomatopoeia,  p.  474. 
Tautophony,  p.  477. 
Punning,  p.  477. 
Alliteration,  p.  479. 
Lipogrammatists,  p.  480. 
Pangrammatists,  p.  480. 
Acrostics,  p.  480. 
Chronograms,  p.  480. 
Anagrams,  p.  481. 
Hhophalic  verses,  p.  482. 
Eqiiivocal  verse,  p.  482. 
Serpentine  letters,  p.  482. 
Cento  verse,  p.  483. 
Concatenation,  p.  482. 
Echo  verses,  p.  483. 

Advantage  of  an  acquaintance  with  form  peculiarities,  p.  484 
Avoidance  of  tautophony  carried  too  far,  p.  485. 
Proverbs,  p.  486. 
Aphorisms,  p.  486. 
Apothegms,  p.  487. 
Paradoxes,  p.  489. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

PREPARATION  FOR  THE  PRESS. 

The  art  of  printing  demands  from  its  Bngrlish  and  American  patrons  not  a  mnltipU- 
city  of  wordfi  merely,  but  a  style  combining  rtimplicity  and  catholicity  of  stmctnre,  con- 
formity to  the  principles  of  nniverwil  prainmar,  and  conHcquently  a  freedom  from 
proTlucialisnu  and  arbitrary  idiomn.  intelligibiltty,  in  short,  to  a  degree  not  required  in 
the  literatnre  of  any  other  age  or  racG.-MABSii. 

SocTHEY  says  in  his  *' Colloquies  "  that  "  one  of  the  first 
effects  of  printing  was  to  make  proud  men  look  on  learn- 
ing as  disgraced  by  being  thus  brought  within  reach  of 
the  common  people.  When  laymen  in  humble  life  were 
enabled  to  procure  books,  the  pride  of  aristocracy  took 
an  absurd  course,  insomuch  that  at  one  time  it  was 
deemed  derogatory  to  a  nobleman  if  he  could  read  or 
write.  Even  scholars  themselves  complained  that  the 
leputation  of  learning  and  tlie  respect  due  it  and  its  re- 
wards were  lowered  when  it  was  thrown  open  to  all  men. 
Even"  in  this  island,  ignorance  was  for  some  genei'ations 
considered  a  mark  of  distinction,  by  which  a  man  of  gentle 
birth  chose,  not  unfrequently,  to  make  it  apparent  that  he 
was  no  more  obliged  to  live  by  the  toil  of  hU  bniin  than 
\}y  the  sweat  of  his  brow." 

However  true  this  may  once  have  been,  no  traces  of  this 
feeling  appear  at  the  present  day.  In  1870,  when  (ilad- 
stone  and  Disraeli  wore  battling  for  the  premiership  of 
England,  a  cartoon  in  Puiwh  represents  the  one  picking 
up  from  a  book-Btall  a  novel  just  publislied  by  the  other^ 


492  PREPARATION   FOB  THE   PRESS.  (Part  IV. 

who,  in  turn,  is  examining  a  book  on  mythology  just  com- 
pleted by  the  first.  Queen  Victoria  wrote,  and  prudently 
invested  the  proceeds  of,  a  life  of  her  late  husband,  and 
lier  daughters  have  followed  in  her  footsteps.  In  no  other 
field  is  distinction  so  universally  sought  as  in  literature. 
A  considerable  proportion  of  intelligent  people  appear  in 
print  in  some  way  or  other  during  their  lives,  and  a  larger 
pro{X)rtion  try  to.  So  it  seems  desirable  to  add  to  the 
directions  already  given  for  letter- writing  (see  pages  102- 
104)  some  further  hints  for  those  who  are  ambitious  to 
see  something  printed  more  pretentious  than  news-letters. 

(I)  Make  your  Manuscript  Legible.— This 
point  has  been  insisted  upon  in  letter-writing,  but  it  must 
here  be  emphasized  again,  because  there  is  much  more  at 
stake.  A  blotted  letter  may  cause  annoyance,  loss,  serious 
difficulty,  but  these  will  be  limited  to  few  persons,  and 
will  usually  be  temporary.  A  misprint  is  practically  final, 
and  its  mischief  will  be  as  wide  as  is  the  circulation  of  the 
page  it  appears  in.  The  general  rule  is,  Make  your  manu- 
script read  exactly  as  you  want  the  printed  page  to  appear, 
in  spelling,  in  punctuation,  and  in  capitals,  as  well  as  in 
words. 

A  singular  suit  came  before  the  courts  of  Michigan  in 
which  the  letter  of  the  law  was  in  conflict  with  its  spirit, 
and  the  question  before  the  court  was  whether  the  letter 
or  the  spirit  must  be  obeyed.  The  State  Legislature  at- 
tempted to  pass  a  law  making  it  a  penal  offence  to  sell 
liquor  to  minors,  but,  by  a  typographical  or  a  clerical  error, 
the  law  was  made  to  read  mint'rs.  The  intent  of  the  law 
was  too  plain  to  be  mistaken,  and  in  one  of  the  counties 
of  the  State  the  prosecuting  attorney  brought  suit  against 
a  saloon-keeper  for  selling  liquor  to  minors.  In  the  trial 
of  the  case  the  counsel  for  the  defence  put  in  the  plea 


Chap.  XXV.]  PROOF.  493 

that  the  act  nnder  which  the  action  was  brought  could  not 
be  applied  to  the  case  in  question,  and  upon  investigation 
it  was  discovered  that  the  act,  as  it  reads,  applies  to  miners 
and  not  to  minors.  The  prosecuting  attorney,  however, 
secured  the  conviction  of  the  saloon-keeper,  on  the  ground 
of  the  intent  of  the  law,  rightly  holding  that  it  was  plainly 
meant  to  prohibit  the  sale  of  liquor  to  minors.  The  case 
was  appealed. 

(2)  Read  your  Proof. — It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the 
average  compositor  will  deviate  more  from  printed  than 
from  written  copy,  showing  that  a  legible  manuscript, 
though  much,  is  not  all  that  is  required.  One  can  better 
afford  to  insist  upon  seeing  the  proof,  and  to  correct  it 
carefully,  than  to  be  the  victim  of  such  blunders  as  are 
frequent  even  in  carefully  edited  newspapers. 

It  is  said  that  an  entire  form  of  the  last  edition  of  the  "  Ency- 
clopaedia Britannica  "  had  to  be  reprinted  because  of  the  unnoticed 
dropping  of  the  first  t  from  the  last  word  in  the  following  sentence : 

A  page  wan  trained  to  receive  his  best  reward  and  worst  ponishment  from  the  smile 
or  frown  of  the  lady  of  the  castle,  and,  as  he  grew  to  manhood,  to  cherish  an  abeorbing 
paaalon  aa  the  atrongeat  stimulus  to  a  noble  life,  and  the  contemplation  of  female  virtue, 
aa  embodied  in  an  laolde  or  a  Beatrice,  as  the  tmeat  earnest  of  future  immortality. 

The  flowing  reporter  who  wrote,  with  reference  to  a  well-known 
belle,  ♦«  Her  dainty  feet  were  encased  in  shoes  that  might  have 
been  taken  for  fain'  boots,"  tied  his  wardrobe  up  in  his  handker- 
chief and  left  for  jiai-ts  unknown  when  it  appt^ared  the  next  morn- 
ing :  ••  Her  dirty  feet  were  encased  in  shoes  that  might  be  taken 
for  ferry  boats." 

Many  errors  oconr  by  the  omission  of  an  initial  letter,  as  where 
"  The  Polish  insurgents  were  defeated  with  great  laughter."  The 
cutting  off  of  a  final  letter  is  quite  as  bad,  as,  for  instance,  "  You 
cannot  fight  against  the  future  ;  Tim  is  on  our  side.**  Other  let- 
ters are  often  dropped,  to  the  great  amusement  of  those  who  enjoy 
the  indelicate  blunders  of  the  typo.     A  Southern  paper  says : 

Tha  iUamer  omim  to  grief  through  nuining  haftvily  into  a  nU, 


494  PREPARATION    FOli   THE  PRESS.  [Part  IV. 

And  another  Southern  paper  was  obliged  to  ajwlogizo  and  ex- 
plain for  having  called  Mobile,  to  the  great  indignation  of  the  in- 
liabitants,  "A  g^eat  coffee-pot,"  meaning  innocently  enough  **a 
great  coffee  port.** 

Compositors  make  strange  work  of  scientific  statements.  I 
sometimes  fancy  they  are  not  altogether  so  innocent  in  this  matter 
as  they  would  have  us  believe,  and  that  they  compose  sometimes 
**  \*ith  their  tongue  "  very  much  "  in  their  cheek."  They  are  fond, 
so  far  as  my  own  individual  experience  is  concerned,  of  substitut- 
ing "comic'*  for  "cosmic,*'  "plants**  for  "planets,**  "human*' 
for  "  known,"  and  in  other  ways  making  hash  generally  of  my  more 
serious  and  solemn  statements.  The  most  remarkable  change 
they  ever  arranged  for  me  was  one  of  which  I  still  retain  ' '  docu- 
mentary e\'idence  "  in  a  proof  of  the  little  book  on  Spectroscopic 
Analysis,  which  I  wrote  for  the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian 
Knowledge.  Here  the  words  which  in  the  work  itself  appear— as 
they  were  certainly  \iTitten — "  lines,  bands,  and  stria  in  the  violet 
part  of  speetm,"  were  positively  printed  "  links,  bonds,  and  stripes 
for  the  ^aolent  kind  of  spectres.'* — Pboctor. 

The  following,  from  MucmilknCs  Magazinet  are  further  speci- 
mens: 

VThere  wadOUtto  in  a  pool  of  blood 
The  bravert  Tuscans  lay, 

where  for  "  wadiUing  "  read  "  wallowing." 

In  a  passage  on  William  Riif  us  occur  the  lines — 

Who  spacious  regions  grave, 
A  waatofu/  becuP! 

where  the  original  has  "  a  waste  for  beasts.** 

No  triumph  flushed  that  haughty  Brown, 

only  differs  from  the  original  by  the  capital  and  the  addition  of 
the  final  letter  to  the  last  word. 

In  a  reprint  of  "  Lord  Ullin's  Daughter"  occurs  this  curious 
reading : 

Come  back  !  he  cried  in  Oreet, 
Across  the  stormy  water. 

Here  is  a  new  version  of  Scott : 

He  is  gone  on  the  mountain, 
He  is  lost  to  the  forest, 
Like  a  summer-drietl  fountain. 
When  our  need  was  the  mw  dust. 


Chap.  XXV.]  PRINTERS'  ERRORS.  495 

Here  a  variation  on  Macaulaj : 

And  the  rod  glare  on  Skiddaw  rooaed  the  burokura  of  Carlisle. 

Another : 

Herniinius  on  black  Auster, 
Grave  chaplain  on  grave  steed. 

From  a  description  of  a  waterfall : 

Prom  rock  to  rock,  the  giant  elephant 
Leaps  with  delirioun  bound, 

where,  of  course,  "elephant"  is  a  varia  lectio  for  **  element." 

If  ever  two  great  men  might  seem  during  their  whole  lives  to  have  moved  in  direot 
opposition,  Milton  and  Jerry  my  Tailor  were  they. 

A  variation  on  Scott : 

The  way  was  long,  the  wind  waa  oold. 
The  minstrel  was  infernal  old. 

Another  on  Macauhiy : 

Hard  by,  %Jle»he  on  a  block  had  laid  his  viUle»  down, 
Virginias  oaogbt  the  vUtleti  up,  and  hid  them  in  hia  gown. 

Plorenoe  De  Laigne,  who  recently  published  some  versex  on  "  Autumn  ^  in  these  ool- 
tuons,  writes  to  ask,  "  Who  is  responsible  for  the  tyttographical  errors  in  the  Hawkeye  f" 

Lean  down  here,  Flort'nco-,  while  we  whisper  in  your  ear :  " sh  ;  nobody  is.    The 

editor  writes  sa  plainly  that  even  a  blind  man  can  Rpell  out  his  wonia  ;  the  compositors 
are  college  men  who  have  edited  papers  of  their  own,  and  they  set  up  the  matter  exactly 
•■  U  la  written,  and  correct  what  mistiikes  the  editor  makes ;  the  proof-reader  is  a  pro- 
ftanr  of  rhetoric  and  pliilulogy  in  an  Iowa  college,  and  never  made  a  mistake  in  his  life ; 
and  he  corrorts  what  few  mistakes  the  compositors  may  make :  the  foreman  is  a  Oot- 
tiniren  graduate,  who  has  nothing  to  do  bat  to  see  that  the  matter  is  perfect  when  the 
forma  go  down.  There  isn^t  a  mistake  in  the  Hawkeye  when  it  reaches  the  press.  But 
we'll  tell  yon,  as  a  professional  secret,  Plorence,  how  the  mistakes  creep  in.  The  press- 
man told  the  manager,  and  the  manager  told  us ;  it's  the  ink,  Florence,  it's  the  ink.    We 


pay  oat  thoosands  and  thousands  of  dollars  a  year  for  good  ink,  and  we  qMl  k'el  an  arti- 
cle that  won't  fairly  meanle  the  paper  with  typographical  erron.'^—HurUn§ton  Uuickeye. 

Many  of  the  blunders  of  the  press  are  of  the  sort  which  one 
miplit  .snpi)ose  would  be  oorreoted  by  the  most  careless  conii)ositor 
and  would  certainly  be  detected  by  the  most  onliiiaiy  of  i)roof- 
readers.  Perhaps  this  is  one  reason  why  these  errors  ap})car  so 
amusing.  Not  long  since  the  British  public  were  edified  by  the 
interesting  information  that  twenty-flvo  Russian  men-of-war  were 
prooeeding  to  the  Black  Sea  '•  to  take  part  in  the  autumn  mancou- 
vres  next  summer."  Of  a  like  sort  was  the  announcement  that 
Beethoven's  jxiAtoml  symphony  wouUl  '*  l>o  performed  at  th«^  Mon- 
day Popular  Ck>ncerts  next  Saturday."    So  also  the  statement  that 


496  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  PRESS.  [Part  IV. 

"on  one  day  of  last  week  a  hundred  and  forty  deaths  by  cholera 
occurred  in  Naples  m  forty-eight  hours."  Another  country  news- 
paper in  England  apologized  for  a  slight  enor  in  a  previous  issue, 
in  which  it  was  stated  :  **  Much  regret  is  felt  at  the  death  of  Coun- 
cilman Cooper,  who  was  seventy-eight  years  of  age,  and  has  been 
a  member  of  the  council  for  over  eighty  years ^    So  again  : 

*'  Now  paper  was  first  made  of  linen  in  1300.  Linen  was  first 
made  in  1563,  but  the  introduction  of  cotton,  etc." 

That  editor  should  take  the  Scotchman's  advice  **  to  buy  a  bag 
of  dates  and  swallow  the  seeds." 

Even  more  exasperating  are  errors  i-esulting  from  what 
some  presumptuous  compositor  or  proof-reader  supposes  to 
be  corrections  of  errors  by  the  author. 

Freeman's  historical  essays  were  amended  more  or  less  by  the 
editors  through  whose  hands  they  passed  for  publication  in  the 
Reviews.  For  book-publication,  Mr.  Freeman  has  restored  the 
original  reading.  Examples :  Editor — Every  renewed  instance. 
Freeman — Every  fresh  instance.  Ed. — The  Turks  were  exi^elled. 
F.— Tlie  Turks  were  driven  out.  Ed. — Never  was  Greece  either 
nobler  or  baser.  F.— Never  did  Greece  rise  higher  or  fall  lower. 
Ed. — The  kind  of  government  established.  F. — The  kind  of  gov- 
ernment which  was  set  up.  This  is  a  good  lesson  of  taste  in 
choice  of  words.  Further  than  that,  in  one  or  two  instances,  the 
meaning  is  not  as  i)recisely  given  by  the  editor  as  by  the  author. 

An  eminent  French  philological  writer,  when  accused  of  violating  his  own  principles  of 
orthography  in  one  of  his  printed  essays,  thus  replies :  '•  It  was  not  I  that  printed  my  essay, 
it  was  Mr.  Didot.  Now  Mr.  Didot,  I  confess  it  with  pain,  is  not  of  my  opinion  with  regard 
to  the  spelling  of  certiin  plurals,  and  I  cannot  oblige  him  to  print  against  his  conscience 
ani  habits.  You  know  that  every  printing-oflRce  has  its  rules,  its  fixed  system,  from  which 
it  will  not  consent  to  depart.  For  example,  I  think  the  present  system  of  punctuation 
detestable,  because  the  points  are  multiplied  to  a  ridiculous  excess.  Well,  I  attempt  to 
prove  this  by  precept  and  example,  and  the  very  printers  who  publish  my  a-  gument  scat- 
ter points  over  it  as  if  they  were  shaken  out  of  a  pepper-box.  It  is  their  way.  What 
would  j-ou  have  *  They  will  print  my  theory  only  on  condition  that  I  will  submit  to  their 
practice."' — Marsh. 

Finally,  there  is  the  chance  of  whole  lines  being  mis- 
placed in  the  transferring  of  the  type  from  the  ''  galley  " 
to  the  page.  Xot  till  the  press  is  fairly  at  work  can  the 
author  be  sure  that  his  essay  will  appear  as  he  wrote  it. 


Chap.  XXV.  ]  CORRECTING  PROOF.  497 

A  ludicrous  transposition  occurred  in  the  make-up  of  a  couple 
of  telegraphic  items  in  the  New  Haven  Journal  and  Courier  re- 
cently, which  produced  the  following  effect :  The  first  item  read, 
'•  A  lai-ge  cast-iron  wheel,  revolving  900  times  per  minute,  ex- 
ploded in  that  city  yesterday  after  a  long  and  painful  illness. 
Deceased  was  a  prominent  Thirty-second  degree  Mason."  This 
was  followed  by  the  second  item,  which  read:  "John  Fadden, 
the  well-known  florist  and  real  estate  broker  of  Newport,  R.  I., 
died  in  Wardner  &  Russell's  sugar-mill,  at  Crj'stal  Lake,  111.,  on 
Saturday,  doing  ^3,000  damage  to  the  building,  and  injuiing  sev- 
eral workmen  and  Lorenzo  Wilcox  fatally." — Boston  Post. 

HOW  TO   CORRECT   PROOF. 

The  following  are  tlie  chief  rules  observed,  and  signs 
used,  by  Printers  in  correcting  proofs  for  the  press : 

1.  No  alteration  should  be  made  between  the  lines  which  has  not 
some  mark  opposite  it  in  the  margin,  to  attract  the  printer's  eye. 

2.  Instrnctions  to  the  printer  should  be  enclosed  within  a  circle,  to 
distinguish  them  from  additions  to  the  proof. 

3.  When  a  point,  letter,  or  word  is  To  BE  CH.\NGED,  draw  the  pen 
through  it,  and  write  the  new  point,  letter,  or  word  in  the  margin.  (See 
Nob.  1,  5,  and  0.)* 

4.  When  points,  letters,  or  words  are  to  be  inserted,  write  them  in 
the  margin,  and  mark  a  caret  (a)  at  the  place  where  they  are  to  be  intro- 
duced.    (See  Nos.  2,  1«,  19,  20,  and  22.) 

5.  In  the  case  of  ({notation  marks,  a.sterisks,  or  apostrophes,  which 
•re  TO  BE  iNSEitTEH,  a  curve  should  be  drawn  under  them,  thus  ^ '. 
(See  Nos.  24,  30,  31,  33,  34,  and  37.) 

6.  In  the  case  of  a  pericnl  to  be  insertei>,  it  should  be  placed  in  the 
margin  wUtUn  a  cirrlf  0 ,  otherwise  it  might  be  overlooked.    (See  No.  29.) 

7.  When  a  point,  letter,  or  word  is  to  be  omitted  altogether,  draw 
the  pen  through  it,  and  write  ^  (dele)  in  the  margin.  (See  Nos.  3,  25, 
85,  and  86.) 

8.  Letters  or  words  placed  too  close  should  have  a  stroke  drawn 
between  them,  and  a  $paf^  (^  marked  in  the  margin.     (See  No  4. ) 

9.  Letters  too  fab  separated  should  be  joined  by  curves  (3)»  »nd 
have  curves  marked  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  12.) 


•  TiMW  Noti  iil^  to  tfi*  mmbHv  of  tlM  eoRwtioM  ia  tlM  **  KzBmple  of  an  Anthor'a 
Proof,*'  Ate,  on  pago  4Mi 


498  PREPARATION    FOR   THE  PRESS  [Pakt  IV. 

10.  When  two  paragraphs  are  to  he  conjoined,  draw  a  curved  line 
from  the  end  of  the  one  to  tlie  beginning  of  the  other,  and  write  in  the 
margin,  *'n/wt>w."    (See  No.  7.) 

11.  When  a  sentence  in  the  body  of  a  paragraph  is  to  ueuin  a  new 
rAitAGKAi'ii,  draw  a  square  bracket  (  [  )  round  tlie  first  letter  of  it,  and 
write  in  the  margin,  N.P.  (new  paragraph).     (See  No.  11.) 

12.  When  a  word  in  italics  is  to  he  puinted  in  Roman,  underline 
it,  and  write  nun.  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  8.) 

13.  Wlien  a  word  in  roman  is  to  be  printed  IN  ITALICS,  underline 
it,  and  write  iUtl.  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  10.) 

14.  When  a  word  is  to  be  printed  in  small  capitals,  draw  a 
double  line  under  it,  and  write  am.  cap.  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  18.) 

15.  When  a  letter  or  word  is  TO  BE  printed  in  capitals,  draw  a 
triple  line  under  it,  and  write  caj)s.  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  23.) 

16.  When  a  word  in  capitals  or  small  capitals  is  to  be  printed  in 
small  letters,  underline  it,  and  write  in  the  margin,  I.  c.  ("lower 
case,^'  the  "case"  in  which  capitals  are  kept  being  above  the  other). 
(See  No.  21.) 

17.  When  a  letter  is  inserted  upside  down,  draw  a  line  under  it, 
and  make  a  reverse  9/ in  the  margin.     (See  No.  9.) 

18.  When  a  deleted  word  is  to  be  retained,  draw  a  dotted  line 
under  it,  and  write  aU*t  (let  it  stand)  in  the  margin.     (See  No.  13.) 

19.  When  a  space  sticks  up  between  two  words,  it  is  noticed  by  a 
stroke  in  the  margin      (See  No.  14.) 

20.  When  a  line  siioitld  be  indented,  put  a  square  bracket  at  the 
j>oint  where  the  line  should  begin,  and  write  in<''ent  in  the  margin. 
(See  No.  17.) 

21.  When  a  letter  of  a  different  character  has  got  into  a  word,  a 
line  should  be  drawn  under  it,  and  wf.  (wrong  font)  marked  in  the 
margin.     (See  No.  26.) 

22.  When  two  letters  are  to  be  transposed,  draw  a  short  line  under 
them,  and  write  //•.  in  the  margin.     (See  No   28. ) 

23.  When  two  or  more  words  are  to  be  transposed,  draw  a  curved 
line  above  the  first  and  below  the  second,  and  write  tr.  in  the  margin. 
(See  Nos.  15  and  27.) 

24.  When  letters  or  lines  stand  crooked  or  irregular,  draw  lines 
above  and  below  them.     (See  No.  32. ) 

25.  When  a  second  proo!",  incorporating  first  corrections,  is  wanted, 
write  Revue  on  the  upper  corner :  When  no  such  proof  is  wanted,  and 
it  is  ready  to  be  printed  o%  write  Press  on  the  upper  corner. 


Chap.  XXV.]  CORRECTING  PROOF.  499 

Examples  of  an  Author's  Proof,  with  the  marks  for 
making  Corrections  and  Alterations,  according  to  Eules 
stated  on  pages  497,  498. 


Popular  glory  ia  a  perfojt  coqnotte;  her  loyera  mtrat         *c/ 
toil^feel'  every'  inquietude,  indulgejevery  caprice |   and'^/  ■  ^  •j^  ',/ 
perhaps  at  last  be  jilted  wtA  the  hargain^  •  into]    '  run  onj 

vTruo  glory,  on  the  other  hand,  resembles  a  woman  of 
fittsB :  her  admirers  must  play  no  tric3[3;  thoy^foel  no  ^rom.j  *  y 
great  anxiety,  for  they  are  sure  in  tho  end  of  hoing  re-      "  ital.f 
warded  in  proportion  to  their  merit.  [I  know  not  how  '*  JS'.P.I 
to  turn  so  trite  a  sub^jcct  out  of  tho  beaten  road  of         »«  O/ 
gwwwiHH  place,  cxccpt^y  illustrating  it,  rathcrHjy  tho  "  stet.}    '*  | 
assistance  of  my|judgmont\than  myjmemory,  and  instead     "  /r./ 
of  making  reflections  by  tcHng  a  story.  *'  A^/ 

A  rChincso,   who    had    long   studied    tho   works    of   "indcntj 
Confucius,  who  knew  fourteen  thousand  words,  and  could  ^  «"•  capa.J 
read  a  great  part  of  every  book  that  came^his  way,  onco     ^  «   '^y         ^ 
took  it  into  his  head  to  travel  into  Kpbqpk.  and  observe  "  1x4 

tho  customs  of  a  peoplejn  the  arts  of  refining  upon 

every  pleasure.  Upon  his  arrival  at  Amsterdam,  his  "cap.j  **  ^ 
passion  for  letters  naturally  led  him  to"  a  booksellersi  mJ  »  ^  |  |* 
shop;  and  as  he  could  speak  Dutch  la  littlo  he  civilly  "ir/./  V  tT.\  ©  g* 
asked  the  bookseller  for  tho  works  fo  tho  immortal     **/r/  S-^ 

Ilixifon^  The  bookseller  assured  him  he  had  nevez  •  O  Is. 

heard  the  book  mentioned  before.    "  What  \  have  you 
sever  heard  of  that  immortal  ix)ct,Aretumed  the  other,     ■•  f^\ 


I 


much  Burprised.Athat  light  of  tho  eyes,  that  favourite  of  '*  a^  S  "^ 

kings,  that  rose  of  perfection  I    I  suppose  you  know  Dq.        ■''' —        *  I 
thing  of  the  immortal  Fipaihihi,  second  cousin  to  {h^     ■■/>'*"  S» 

moon?*'     "Nothing  at  all  indeed,  sir,"  returned^'J^         ^  V» 

other.      *'  Alas  !a  cries  our  travoller.Ato  what  purpose  "  tCiA  **  f^^      %* 
then  has  one  of  thcso  f^tcd  to  death,  and  the  other  "*  iJ 

offered  Ihoi  himself  up  as  a  sacrifice  to  the  Tartarean  "*  ^ 
enemy  to  gain  a  renown  which  liaa  nevez  travelled  bt>- 
yond  the  precincts  of  China  a  ^  A^ 


500  PREPARATION   FOR  THE  PRESS.  [Part  iV. 

The  Author's  Proof  after  the  corrections  marked  on 
page  499  have  been  made : 

Popular  glory  is  a  perfect  coquette  ;  her  lovers  must  toil,  feel  every 
inquietude,  indulge  every  caprice,  and  perhaps  at  last  be  jilted  into 
the  bargain.  True  glory,  on  the  other  hand,  resembles  a  woman  of 
sense :  her  admirers  must  play  no  tricks ;  they  feel  no  great  anxiety,  for 
they  are  sure  in  the  end  of  being  rewarded  in  proportion  to  their  merit. 

I  know  not  how  to  turn  so  trite  a  subject  out  of  the  beaten  road  of 
common  place,  except  by  illustrating  it,  rather  by  the  assistance  of  my 
memory  than  my  judgment,  and  instead  of  making  reflections  by  tell- 
ing a  story. 

A  Chinese  who  had  long  studied  the  works  of  CJonfucius,  who  knew 
the  characters  of  fourteen  thousand  words,  and  could  read  a  great  part 
of  every  book  that  came  in  his  way,  once  took  it  into  his  head  to  travel 
into  Europe,  and  observe  the  customs  of  a  people  whom  he  thought  not 
very  much  inferior  even  to  his  own  countrymen  in  the  arts  of  refining 
upon  every  pleasure.  Upon  his  arrival  at  Amsterdam,  his  passion  for 
letters  naturally  led  him  to  a  bookseller's  shop ;  and  as  he  could  speak 
a  little  Dutch,  he  civilly  asked  the  bookseller  for  the  works  of  the  im- 
mortal Ilixifou.  The  bookseller  assured  him  he  had  never  heard  the 
book  mentioned  before.  *'What!  have  you  never  heard  of  that  im- 
mortal poet,"  returned  the  other,  much  surprised,  "that  light  of  the 
eyes,  that  favorite  of  kiags,  that  rose  of  perfection !  I  suppose  you 
know  nothing  of  the  immortal  Fipsihihi,  second  cousin  to  the  moon  ?  " 
**  Nothing  at  all  indeed,  sir,"  returned  the  other.  "  Alas!  "  cries  our 
traveller,  "to  what  purpose  then  has  one  of  these  fasted  to  death,  and 
the  other  offered  himself  up  as*  a  sacrifice  to  the  Tartarean  enemy  to 
gain  a  renown  which  has  never  travelled  beyond  the  precincts  of  China." 

(3)  Avoid  Egotism.— In  certain  kinds  of  news- 
paper articles,  especially  personal  and  literary  criticisms, 
there  has  lately  been  a  growing  affectation  of  the  nse  of 
"  I "  and  "  me  "  and  "  ray,"  instead  of  the  "  we  "  and  "  us  " 
and  "our"  hitherto  generally  adopted  by  editors.  At 
present  it  seems  an  affectation,  and  in  newspaper  work  is 
not  to  be  recommended,  especially  to  young  writers.  But 
in  using  the  "  we  "  care  must  be  taken  : 

{a)  Not  to  extend  the  plural  use  beyond  the  possessive. 


Chap.  XXV.]  EGOTISM.  501 

Thus,  we  would  not  say,  "You,  Mary,  shall  do  this  yourselves,** 
nor  should  the  editorial  writer  say,  "We  oureelves  made  the 
tenth."  The  sentences  should  be:  "You,  Mary,  shall  do  this 
yourself,"  "  We  oui-self  made  the  tenth." 

Correct  the  following : 

The  Jodge  Is  « (^loriotu  aailor  u  well  as  jarist,  and  we  would  gladly  tmst  oar  Uvea  with 
him  on  the  most  dangerons  seaa. — N«w  York  Standard. 

(h)  To  avoid  ambiguous  expressions. 

A  little  book  of  information  for  foreign  travellers,  issued  by 
E.  M.  Jenkins,  contains  this  sentence  : 

A  remedy  recommended  by  many,  and  thoroughly  bellevoi]  in  by  our  wife,  is  a  mix- 
ture of  glycerine  and  collodion. 

This  reminds  one  of  the  Mrs.  Brown  asking  for  credit  at  a  dry- 
goods  store,  who,  when  her  name  was  not  recognized  by  the  clerk, 
said,  with  scarcely  justifiable  ellipsis,  "  Why,  don't  you  know  me  ? 
I  am  Tompkins  &  Brown's  wife." 

{c)  To  use  the  "  we "  only  in  newspaper  articles  of  an 
editorial  character. 

Even  newspaper  letters  are  now  written  commonly  in  the  singu- 
lar, while  in  books,  essays,  sermons,  and  public  addresses  the  best 
usage  is  pronouncedly  in  favor  of  the  singular  form,  when  the 
author  speaks  of  himself  apart  from  his  readers.  Tliis  last  quali- 
fication is  necessary,  because  in  most  instances  where  the  pronoun 
is  in  the  first  person  the  author  is  carrying  along  his  audience  with 
him,  or  speaking  of  general  usage.  Thus  we  should  say  "I  have 
been  led  to  give  special  study  to  this  subject,"  where  the  refer- 
ence is  manifestly  to  the  speaker  as  an  indi^adual;  but  "we 
should  say,"  as  at  the  beginning  of  this  sentence,  where  the  mean- 
ing is  that  any  intelligent  person  would  say  so. 

{d)  Make  as  few  references  to  yourself  as  possible. 

In  narration  of  what  one  has  done  or  seen,  one  must  speak  of 
one's  self,  and  should  do  it  naturally  and  unaffectedly  (see  pages 
140,  142,  145,  197) ;  sometimes  vividness  is  added  to  an  illustra- 
tion or  an  anecdote  by  mentioning  tlie  speaker's  part  in  it ;  but  as 
a  general  rule,  statements  and  urgunicnts  should  be  cast  in  im- 
personal fonn.  The  writer  should  aim  to  fix  the  reader's  attention 
on  the  thought,  not  on  himself. 


502  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  PRESS.  (Paut  IV. 

(4)   Do   not    be    Discouraged    by    Rebuffs.— 

Probably  most  experienced  writers  would  advise  a  young 
person  not  to  write  for  publication,  believing  that  ninety- 
nine  of  every  hundred  will  write  nothing  worth  reading, 
and  that  the  hundredth  will  be  so  impelled  to  write  that 
no  discouragement  will  prevent  him.  And  it  may  be  said 
without  qualification  that  for  getting  a  livelihood  almost 
every  other  field  offers  more  inducements  than  literature. 
In  the  first  place,  it  is  diflScult  to  get  started,  as  witness 
the  experience  told  on  pages  88,  89  ;  and,  in  the  second 
place,  the  money  reward  in  the  higher  walks  of  literature 
bears  no  proportion  to  that  attained  for  corresponding 
eminence  in  other  vocations.  The  professional  literary 
man  is  usually  a  failure,  but  finds  no  great  prizes  awaiting 
him  if  he  happens  to  succeed. 

So  one  might  better  hoe  com  or  make  bonnets  than 
write  poems  for  a  living  ;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  one 
who  has  tastes  in  tliat  direction  should  not  exercise  them 
in  waiting,  and  test  them  in  trying  to  get  the  writing  into 
print.  Nor  should  the  fact  that  a  dozen  editors  decline  it 
make  the  author  ashamed  to  offer  the  manuscript  to  a 
thirteenth.  Usually  it  will  be  well  before  offering  it  to 
any  publisher  to  go  to  a  friend  whose  judgment  and  whose 
frankness  can  be  trusted,  and  be  sure  of  his  indorsement 
before  it  is  offered  at  all ;  but  if  it  is  vouched  for  emphati- 
cally by  some  one  who  ought  to  know  what  is  worth  print- 
ing, don't  let  your  light  go  out  because  the  editor  of  the 
Squashtown  Bugle  or  of  the  Pacific  Review  declines  it. 
Keep  trying,  keep  trying ;  but  in  the  meantime  don't  let 
your  bread  and  butter  be  dependent  on  it. 

A  correspondent  of  the  Boston  Transcript  tells  about  James 
Russell  Lowell's  playing  a  joke  upon  the  Atlantic.  He  wrote  an 
article  called  the  "Essence  of  American  Humor,"  which  was  said 


Chap.  XXV.]  COPYRIGHTS.  503 

by  friends  to  whom  he  read  it  to  be  among  the  best  of  his  writ- 
ings. •*  He  employed  some  one  to  copy  it,"  says  the  correspond- 
ent, **  and  signed  it  *  W.  Perry  Paine,'  and  sent  it  to  the  Atlantic, 
with  the  request  that,  as  it  was  a  maiden  effort,  the  editor  would 
give  an  opinion  in  writing  to  said  Paine.  He  waited  a  fortnight, 
but  heard  nothing  from  his  pai^er,  when,  being  in  Boston,  he 
dropped  into  the  office  of  the  Atlantic,  and,  meeting  James  T. 
Fields,  adroitly  turned  the  conversation  ujxjn  humor,  and  remarked 
it  was  singular  so  little  was  written  upon  the  subject.  Fields  re- 
plied, *  We  get  a  great  deal  of  manuscript  on  humor,  but  it  is  so 
poor  that  we  cannot  use  it.  I  threw  into  the  waste-basket  the 
other  day  a  long  screed  christened  the  "  Essence  of  American 
Humor,"  which  should  have  been  styled  the  "Essence  of  Non- 
sense," for  a  more  absurd  farrago  of  stuff  I  have  never  seen.' 
Lowell,  much  to  the  surjmse  of  the  editor,  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter  and  informed  Mr.  Fields  of  the  authorship  of  the  article. 
The  editor  turned  all  colors  and  swore  it  was  one  of  Lowell's  jokes. 
*  Indeed  it  is,'  responded  Lowell,  '  and  the  best  joke  I  ever  played. 
I  never  thought  highly  of  my  scribbling,  but  I  didn't  believe  it 
was  the  most  ridiculous  farrago  of  stuff  you  had  ever  seen.'  By 
way  of  self-defence,  Fields  declared  he  did  not  read  the  thing,  but 
that  he  did  not  believe  that  a  man  who  signed  his  first  name  with 
an  initial  and  the  second  full  could  writ«  for  the  Atlantic.  That 
was  about  as  ingenious  an  exense  as  he  could  make  for  his 
partiality." 

(6)  Copyrights  are  easily  obtained.  It  is  only  neces- 
sary (a)  to  have  printed  upon  a  sheet  of  paper  the  title  of 
the  article  or  book,  {h)  to  forward  the  same  to  ''The 
Librarian  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C,"  (c)  enclosing 
one  dollar  (whereupon  the  copyright  will  be  entered  and 
a  copy  sent  you),  and  finally,  when  the  article  or  book  is 
pul)lished,  (d)  to  send  two  copies  to  the  Librarian,  for 
deposit  in  tlie  Library  at  Washington.  A  copyright  thus 
secured  is  valid  for  twenty-eight  years,  and  may  then  be 
renewed  for  anotljor  fourteen. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


Preparation  for  the  Press. 

1.  Make  your  manuscript  legible,  p.  492. 

2.  Read  ytmr  proof,  p.  493. 
HOW  TO  CORRECT  PROOF,  p.  497. 

8.  Afioid  egotum,  p.  500. 

In  unng  the  we  care  muttt  be  taken  : 

a.  Not  to  extend  the  plural  use  beyond  the  possessive, 

p.  500. 

b.  To  avoid  ambiguous  expressions,  p.  501. 
e.  To  use  the  ^ce  only  in  editorials,  p.  501. 
d.  To  make  few  references  to  self,  p.  501. 

4.  Do  not  be  discouraged  by  rebuffs,  p.  502. 

5.  Copyrights,  p.  503. 


PART  V. 

OIUTORY 


PART  V. 

THE    0 RATIO K. 


CHAPTER  XXYL 

ELOQUENCE. 
The  object  of  rhetoric  U  persaasion,— of  lo^o,  conviction,— of  grammar,  Bignifloanoy. 

— COLBBUMK. 

De  Qainoey  divide*  all  llteratare  into  two  daaaea— the  literature  of  linowledge  and  the 
UlMfBtare  of  power.   The  function  of  the  first  ia  to  teach ;  the  function  of  the  second  is  to 


for  the  beat  deflnition  which  I  thinic  can  be  given  of  Eloquence  is,  the  art  of  npeak- 
ing  in  auch  a  manner  k*  to  obtain  the  end  for  which  we  Rpciik.— Blub. 

The  word  Eloquence  in  it«  greHteitt  Lititude  denot««)  that  art  or  talent  bj  which  the 
dlaooorae  is  adapted  to  its  end.  "  Tlio  beRt  orator  in  he  that  so  speaks  as  to  instruct^  to 
daligfat,  and  to  move  the  minds  of  bin  hearers.*'  *— Campbell. 

A  now  element  enters  into  the  construction  of  tlic 
Oration.  The  fundamental  purpose  of  Conversation  is  to 
entertain,  of  I^etter-writing  to  inform,  of  the  Essay  to  in- 
terest. The  Oration  must  entertain,  must  inform,  must 
interest;  but  it  must  do  more,  it  must  persuade.  A 
speech  has  a  purpose,  and  it  is  or  i.s  not  a  good  speech  ac- 
cording as  it  does  or  does  not  effect  that  purpose.  It  may 
be  wise  and  witty  and  weighty,  but  if  it  does  not  move  the 
audience  it  is  a  faihire.     The  essayist  or  the  j)oet  may  feel 

•  Optimna  «t  ontor  qui  dtoaado  nlnn  ■wHanHmn  «k  deoat,  •»  Jiliohit.  ak  p«^ 

BOVeL— ClOBBO. 


506  ELOQUENCE.  [Part  V. 

inly  assured  that  his  work  is  wortliy ;  that  though  neg- 
lected now,  it  will  some  time  be  recognized  as  a  master- 
piece. The  orator  has  no  such  solace.  Ilis  speech  is  for 
the  moment  and  the  occasion  of  its  delivery ;  if  it  fails 
then,  it  is  a  failure  forever. 

These  two  varieties  of  power  are  illustrated  in  the  styles  of 
Daniel  Webster  and  Rufus  Choate.  Both  were  powerful  speakers  ; 
but  Webster  was  the  superior,  because  of  his  superior  power  of 
selection.  Much  as  one  is  dazzled  by  Choate's  marvellous  com- 
mand of  vocabulary,  still  one  cannot  avoid  thinking  of  his  style  in 
the  reading.  That  always  indicates  a  defect.  An  absolutely  per- 
fect style  attracts  no  attention  to  itself.  Criticism  of  it  is  an  after- 
thought. Members  of  the  Bo.ston  bar  all  alike  yielded  to  the 
spell  of  Choate's  rhetoric ;  yet,  in  the  very  act  of  admiring,  they 
found  time  to  note  that  he  **  drove  the  substantive  and  six,"  allud- 
ing to  the  multitude  of  adjectives  which  he  harnessed  to  a  noun. 
Men  with  tears  coursing  down  their  cheeks,  in  listening  to  his 
sonorous  periods  in  his  eulogy  upon  Webster,  yet  slyly  made  a 
memorandum  that  they  would  count  the  words  in  some  of  those 
periods  when  they  should  be  i^rinted,  and  afterward  remarked 
that  one  of  them  was  the  longest  but  one  in  the  English  language. 
Who  ever  heard  of  any  such  arithmetical  criticism  of  Webster's 
reply  to  General  Hayne  of  South  Carolina  ?  When  Choate  spoke, 
men  said,  "What  a  marvellous  style.  How  beautiful,  how  grand, 
how  immense  his  vocabulary,  how  intricate  his  combinations,  how 
adroit  his  sway  over  the  mother- tongue."  When  Webster  spoke, 
men  said,  '*He  will  gain  his  case."  Webster's  vocabulaiy  was 
much  more  limited  than  that  of  Choate,  but  he  had  a  much  sterner 
power  of  selection  and  rejection.  His  command  of  language  was 
like  Darwin's  law  of  species  in  the  struggle  for  existence — only 
that  lived  which  deserved  to  live. — Phelps. 

Adaptation  to  the  audience  and  the  occasion  is  there- 
fore the  prime  consideration. 

Nothing  merits  the  name  of  eloquent  or  beautiful  which  is  not 
suited  to  the  occasion,  and  to  the  persons  to  whom  it  is  ad- 
dressed. — BliAIR. 


Chap.  XXVLl        *  ADAPTATION.  507 

Universally  indeed  in  the  arguments  used  as  well  as  in  the  ap- 
peals to  the  feelings,  a  consideration  must  be  had  of  the  hearers, 
whether  they  ai-e  learned  or  ignorant, — of  this  or  that  profession, 
— nation,— character,  etc.,  and  the  address  must  be  adapted  to 
each ;  so  that  there  can  be  no  excellence  in  writing  or  speaking,  in 
the  abstract ;  nor  can  we  any  more  pronounce  on  the  eloquence  of 
any  composition  than  upon  the  wholesomeness  of  a  medicine, 
without  knowing  for  whom  it  is  intended. — Whately. 

Even  the  common  people  are  better  judges  of  argument  and 
good  sense  than  we  sometimes  think  them ;  and  upon  any  ques- 
tion of  business,  a  plain  man,  who  speaks  to  the  point,  without  art, 
will  generally  prevail  over  the  most  artful  speaker  who  deals  in 
flowers  and  ornaments,  rather  than  in  reasoning. — Blaib. 

In  applauding  an  orator,  we  usually  applaud  ourselves.  He 
says  what  we  were  just  ready  to  say ;  we  seem  to  have  suggested 
the  idea. 

The  deliberate  ezpreaHion  of  baman  tboaght  will  always  aaaume  a  form  rappoeed  to 
be  adapted  to  the  intelligence,  the  tem|>er,  the  tasten,  and  the  aims  of  those  to  whom  it 
la  addreMed.  Ue  who  speaks  to  an  audience  oompoeed  of  men  of  one  class,  of  one  pro- 
faadoD,  of  one  party,  or  of  one  sect,  will  use  a  narrower  vocabulary,  a  more  restricted  or 
a  more  select  dialect,  than  he  who  ezpecta  to  be  heard  by  a  more  various  and  compre- 
hanaive  drde ;  and  a  writer  who  appeals  to  a  whole  people,  who  seeks  to  oonvinoe  the 
imdenlandiiig  or  enlist  the  sympathies  of  a  nation,  must  adopt  a  diction,  employ  arga- 
■MBta,  and  raaoct  to  illustrations,  which  shall,  in  their  torn,  suit  the  comprehension  and 
awaken  the  interest  of  men  of  every  class  and  of  every  calling. — Mamh. 

Special  care  must  be  taken  to  exclude  from  popular 
speeches  certain  features,  which  Abbott  has  thus  classified  : 

(a)  Connderations  that  are  gubtiie  or  fur-fetched. — Though  an 
audience  may  applaud  these  if  they  are  skilfully  presented,  they 
will  be  practically  guided  by  plainer  and  coarser  arguments. 

(b)  Language  and  imagery  that  are  subtile  or  pedantic. — In  Tay- 
lor's •♦  Edwin  the  Fair,"  the  Pedant,  in  addressing  an  audience  of 
monks,  begins  figuratively — 

On  Moant  Olympoa  with  the  Uvmm  %tu» 
I  arar  dwait. 

Upon  which  the  cry  i 


H«  doth  oontai  It,  lo  t 
Ha  doth  cooflMB  tt  t    Fanotaaadastakal 
He  is  a  beathao ;  shall  a  haaUicti  apaakf 


S08  ELOQUENCE.  '  [Pabt  V. 

So  when  in  debate,  in  reply  to  the  argument  of  an  opponent 
that  his  client  in  a  man  of  lettei-s,  a  Hpeaker  retorts,  "Yes,  a  man 
of  three  letters,"  the  retort  is  lost  on  those  who  do  not  happen  to 
know  that  tliis  phi-ase  is  the  translation  of  the  Latin  euphemism 
for  thief,  Jioino  trium  Utterarum  (fur). 

(c)  Considerations  alien  to  tlie  ways  of  thinking  of  the  assembly 
addressed, — Thus  it  has  l)een  said  in  the  House  of  Commons  of  a 
scheme  laid  before  it  by  a  philosopher,  '•  It  is  not  of  our  atmos- 
phere.'* For  the  same  reason  it  has  been  remarked  that  lawjei-s 
seldom  succeed  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  Erskine,  the 
greatest  of  advocates,  excited  nothing  but  contempt  in  Pitt,  who 
ruled  the  House  of  Commons.  Hence,  also,  the  kind  of  oratory 
which  suits  a  jury — i.e.,  an  unskilled  audience— differs  from  that 
which  is  likely  to  convince  a  judge ;  i.e.,  a  skilled  auditor. 

(d)  Considerations  cf  a  hiylier  moral  tone  than  is  likely  to  be  ap- 
jyreciated  by  the  assembly.  — A  speaker  may  feel  it  his  duty  to  urge 
such  considerations,  but  they  are  not  oratorical.  An  interesting 
example  of  oratory,  ineffective  for  this  reason,  is  the  speech  in 
justification  of  the  murder  of  Caesar,  attributed  by  Shakspere  to 
Brutus.  It  appeals  to  abstract  principles  of  morality  quite  beyond 
the  comprehension  of  the  crowd,  and  therefore  excites  nothing 
but  a  cold  respect  for  the  speaker.  Then  follows  Antony,  with 
an  appeal  to  feelings,  some  good,  some  bad,  but  actually  present 
in  the  minds  of  the  audience,  and  excites  them  to  frenzy. 

A  little  boy  was  shown  the  picture  of  the  martyrs  thrown  to  the 
lions.  He  startled  his  friends  by  shouting :  '*  Ma  !  O  Ma !  Just 
look  at  that  poor  little  lion  way  behind  there.     He  won't  get  any." 

There  are  audiences  that  from  abstract  discussion  draw  reflec- 
tions far  from  those  intended. 

It  is  not  by  his  own  taste,  but  by  the  taste  of  the  fish  that  the 
angler  is  determined  in  his  choice  of  bait. — Macaulat. 

(e)  Imagery^  phraseology^  arid  rhythm,  too  rich  and  exquisite  to  he 
readily  appreciated. — Specimens  have  been  given  above  of  the 
highest  eloquence  of  English  prose.  Scarcely  one  of  them  be- 
longs to  oratory  as  here  defined  ;  that  is,  scarcely  one  of  them 
would  be  tolerated  in  the  House  of  Commons,  or  in  a  law  court. 
Students  must  not  be  misled  by  the  speeches  of  Burke  so  as  to 
suppose  that  the  richness  and  ingenuity  of  his  style  is  properly 


Chap.  XXVI. ]  ADAPTATION.  609 

oratorical.  Burke  wa^,  in  fact,  little  listened  to  in  the  House 
of  CJommons.  The  true  oratorical  style  is  much  less  elaborate 
and  ingenious.  The  following  is  a  specimen  of  the  manner  of 
Fox,  the  most  powerful  of  English  oratora  : 

"  We  most  keep  Boii«|Mirte  for  sotnc  time  Ioniser  at  war,  an  a  state  of  probation  !  Gra- 
dun*  Ood,  Bit,  U  war  •  state  of  probation  ?  la  peace  a  raish  HyBteui  y  Is  it  daiitferous  for 
natioan  to  live  in  amity  with  each  other  ?  Are  your  vi(:ilunee,  yuur  policy,  your  wouanon 
powers  of  observation,  to  be  extinguixhcil  by  putting  an  end  to  the  horron*  of  war  ?  Can- 
not this  state  of  probation  be  ax  well  undergone  without  adding  to  the  catalogue  of  human 
■offerings ?  Bat  we  muHt  /kinm  .'  What !  mut>t  the  liowelu  of  Great  Britain  be  torn  out, 
ber  beat  blood  Rpilt,  her  treasure  wai'ted,  that  you  may  make  an  experiment  {■  Put  your- 
eelree  oh,  that  you  would  put  youmelves  in  the  field  of  battle,  and  learn  to  judge  of  the 
■ort  of  horrors  that  you  excite  !  In  former  wars  a  man  might  at  least  have  some  feeling, 
■ome  interest,  that  served  to  Imlance  in  his  mind  the  impresFions  which  a  scene  of  car- 
nage and  of  death  must  inflict.  If  a  man  had  been  present  at  the  battle  of  Blenheim,  for 
Instance,  and  hod  inquirc<l  the  motive  of  the  Imttle,  there  was  not  a  soldier  engaged  who 
ooold  not  have  satisfied  hi«  curiosity,  and  even  perhaps  allayed  hin  feelings— they  were 
fighting  to  repreMs  the  uncontrolled  ambition  of  the  Gixind  Moiuitqiie.  But  if  a  man 
were  present  now  at  a  field  of  slaughter,  and  were  to  inquire  for  what  they  were  fighting, 
*Pit(htiQg?'  would  be  the  answer,  'they  are  not  fighting,  they  are  pauting.'  'Why  is 
that  man  expiring?  why  is  that  other  writhing  in  agony?  what  means  this  implacable 
fury?'  The  answer  must  »x',  'You  are  quite  wong,  sir;  yon  deceive  yourself.  They 
are  not  fighting.  Do  not  disturb  them  ;  they  are  merely  pausing.  This  man  is  not  ex- 
piring with  agony,  that  man  is  not  dead  :  he  is  only  pausing  !  They  are  not  angry  with 
one  another :  they  have  now  no  cause  of  quarrel ;  but  their  country  thinks  there  should 
be  a  paoM.  All  that  you  see,  sir,  is  nothing  like  fighting  :  there  is  no  harm,  nor  cruelty, 
nor  bloodobed  in  it  whatever ;  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  po'.itictl  intitut .'  It  is  merely 
to  try  an  experiment,  to  see  whether  Bonaparte  will  not  behave  himself  better  than  bere- 
tofbre;  and  in  the  meantime  we  have  agreed  to  a  paose  in  pure  friendship  ! '  And  is 
this  tbe  way,  sir,  that  yon  are  to  show  yoonielves  the  advocates  of  order  ?  You  take  up 
ft  qritam  calcalateil  to  andviUxe  the  world,  to  trample  on  religion,  to  stitle  in  Uiu  heaft 
not  merdy  tbe  generosity  of  noble  sentiment,  but  the  affections  of  s  cial  natun*,  and  iu 
tbe  prosecution  of  this  system  yon  spread  terror  and  desolation  around  you. 

What  is  chiefly  to  be  remarked  in  this  passage  is  :  (1)  the  sim- 
plicity and  homeliness  of  the  thought  it  expresses ;  (2>  the  care- 
lessness of  the  language  and  the  complete  absence  of  rhythm,  the 
orator  evidently  beginning  his  sentences  without  knowing  how  he 
would  end  them.  To  these  characteristics  it  owes  very  much  of 
ita  persuasiveness.  What  you  are  asked  to  believe  is  not  anything 
paradoxical,  and  tbe  language  used  is  so  direct  and  natural  that 
you  suspect  no  artifice. 

The  character  of  the  speaker  is  also  a  powerful 
consideratiuii.     We  permit   ourselves  to   be  entertained, 


510  ELOQUENCE.  [Part  V. 

informed,  and  interested  by  almost  any  one  that  has  the 
requisite  intellectual  ability ;  but  we  are  slow  to  be  per- 
suaded by  those  whom  we  do  not  respect. 

One  thing  is  certain,  and  I  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to 
illustrate  il  more  fully,  that  without  possessing  the  virtuous  affec- 
tions in  a  strong  degree,  no  man  can  attain  eminence  in  the  sub- 
lime parts  of  eloquence. — BiiAIB.     • 

It  may  be  objected  that  bad  men  have  been  great  orators.  It 
would  be  more  exact  to  say  that  most  such  men  have  had  within 
them  the  cajmcity  for  distinguished  probity,  but  that  they  have 
fallen  through  moral  weakness.  Such  a  man  sees  the  right  way, 
and  can  still  point  it  out  to  an  audience,  though  he  no  longer  fol- 
lows it ;  while  a  naturally  bad  man,  having  never  seen  it,  uncon- 
sciously betrays  his  ignorance  of  it.  Hence  weak  men  do  more 
mischief  than  bati  men  ;  for  their  sympathy  with  all  that  is  true 
and  noble  gives  them  an  influence  over  the  good  that  the  bad  man 
could  never  establish,  and  which  they  betray. 

It  may  be  urged  that  to  adapt  one's  self  to  the  audience 
is  a  sort  of  duplicity  ;  but  this  view  has  been  well  refuted, 
as  follows : 

Much  declamation  may  be  heard  in  the  present  day  against  ex- 
pediency, as  if  it  were  not  the  proper  object  of  a  deliberative  as- 
sembly, and  as  if  it  were  pursued  only  by  the  unprincipled.  And 
this  kind  of  declamation  is  represented  as  a  sign  of  superior  moral 
rectitude ;  though  in  truth  it  implies  very  unsound  morality,  in 
any  one  who  is  not  led  into  it  through  mere  confusion  of  thought 
and  inaccuracy  of  language. — Whately. 

Vanity,  always  a  weakness,  is  in  oratory  unpardonable. 

It  is  a  peculiarity  in  the  rhetorical  art  that  in  it,  more  than  in 
any  other,  vanity  has  a  direct  and  immediate  tendency  to  interfere 
with  the  proposed  object.  Excessive  vanity  may  indeed  in  various 
ways  prove  an  impediment  to  success  in  other  pursuits  ;  but  in 
the  endeavor  to  pei-suade,  all  wish  to  appear  excellent  in  that  art 
operates  as  a  hinderance.  A  poet,  a  statesman,  a  general,  etc., 
though  extreme  covetousness  of  applause  may  mislead  them,  will, 


Chap.  XXVI.]  SINCERITY.  511 

however,  attain  their  respective  ends  certainly  not  the  less  for 
being  admired  as  excellent  in  poetiy,  politics,  or  war  ;  but  the 
orator  attains  his  end  the  better  the  less  he  is  regarded  as  an 
orator.  If  he  can  make  the  hearers  believe  that  he  is  not  only  a 
stranger  to  all  unfair  artifice,  but  even  destitute  of  all  perauasive 
skill  whatever,  he  will  persuade  them  the  more  effectually,  and  if 
there  ever  could  be  an  absolutely  perfect  orator,  no  one  would,  at 
the  time  at  least,  discover  that  he  was  so.     .     .     . 

It  is  important  to  remark  that  an  orator  is  bound  as  such,  not 
merely  on  moral  but  (if  such  an  expression  may  be  used)  oii 
rhetorical  principles,  to  be  mainly  and  indeed  exclusively  intent 
on  carrj'ing  liis  point ;  not  on  gaining  approbation  or  even  avoid- 
ing censure,  except  with  a  view  to  that  point.  He  should,  as  it 
were,  adopt  as  a  motto  the  reply  of  Themistocles  to  the  Spartan 
commander  Eurybiades,  who  lifted  his  staff  to  chastise  the  earn- 
estness with  which  his  own  opinion  was  controverted  :  "  Strike, 
but  hear  me." 

I  would  not  indeed  undertake  to  maintain  (like  Quintilian)  that 
no  one  can  be  an  orator  who  is  not  a  virtuous  man  ;  but  there  cer- 
tainly is  a  kind  of  moral  excellence  implied  in  that  renunciation  of 
all  effort  after  display,  in  that  forgetfulness  of  self,  which  is  abso- 
lutely necessary,  both  in  the  manner  of  writing  and  in  the  delivery, 
to  give  the  full  force  to  what  is  said. — Whately. 

Look  at  Dogberry,  anxioiu  to  be  written  down  an  asa,  and  proving  his  donkeyhood 
by  ntter  ancoatcioiuDem  of  it.  Look  at  FalstaiC,  on  the  other  hand,  luuKbing  at  hiraadf 
and  Ntopping  the  laoghter  of  others  when  he  aays,  **  I  do  begin  to  perceive  I  am  made  an 
aaL"  And  it  is  not  only  the  final  test  of  donkeyhood,  bnt  gocn  down  to  the  deeps  of  life. 
Shakspere  is  very  fond  uf  nuch  phrases  as  thcw :  "  The  fool  doth  think  he  is  wise,  bat 
the  wise  man  knows  himself  to  be  a  fool.'*  "  The  wont  is  not  as  Ung  as  we  cam  say. 
This  is  the  worst.**     "  I  am  not  very  sick  sinoe  I  can  reason  of  it."— Dallas. 

Sincerity  is  imperatively  demanded. 

Universally  a  writer  or  si)eaker  should  endeavor  to  maintain  the 
appearance  of  expressing  himself  not  as  if  he  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing, but  as  if  he  had  something  to  say.— Whately. 

Asked  what  was  the  secret  of  his  success  in  public  debate. 
President  Lincoln  replied:  **I  always  assume  that  my  audience 
are  in  many  things  wiser  than  I  am,  and  I  say  the  most  sensible 
thing  I  can  to  them.  I  never  found  that  they  did  not  understand 
me.'* 


512  ELOQUENCE.  [Part  V. 

I  know  that  young  people,  on  purpose  to  train  themselves  to 
the  art  of  8i)eaking,  imagine  it  useful  to  adopt  that  side  of  the 
question  under  debate  which  to  themselves  api)ears  the  weakest, 
and  to  try  wliat  figure  they  can  make  upon  it.  But  I  am  afraid 
this  is  not  the  most  improving  education  for  public  speaking  ;  and 
that  it  tends  to  form  them  to  a  habit  of  flimsy  and  trivial  dis- 
course.— BliAIB. 

If  at  leMt  that  man  it  to  be  aoooaiited  th«  mo«t  perfect  orator  who  (an  Cicero  lays 
down)  can  Kpcak  the  best  and  moat  penoaalvaly  on  oajf  qnestion  whatever  that  may 
arise,  it  may  fairly  be  doubted  whether  a  Jbrttrate  mtm  can  be  aflret-rau  orator.  He 
may  indeed  speak  admirably  in  a  matter  he  has  well  conKiderod  :  bat  when  any  new  sub- 
ject or  new  point  is  started  in  the  ooume  of  a  debate,  though  he  may  take  a  jiiHter  view  of  it 
at  the  first  ^anoe,  on  the  exigency  of  the  moment,  than  any  one  else  conld,  he  will  not  fail 
— as  a  man  of  more  superficial  cleverness  would— to  iiereeivc  how  impofwible  it  must  be  to 
do  full  justice  to  a  subject  demanding  more  reflection  and  inquiry ;  nor  can  he  therefore 
place  himself  fully  on  a  level  In  such  a  ca«e  with  one  of  shallower  mind,  who  bein^  in  all 
cases  leas  able  to  look  beneath  the  Rnrface  of  things  obtains  at  the  glance  the  best  view 
k»  can  take  of  cmy  subject,  and  therefore  can  display,  without  any  need  of  artiflt-e,  that 
easy  unembarrassed  confidence  which  can  never  be  with  equal  effect  assumed.  To  npeak 
perfectly  well,  in  Hhort,  a  man  must  feel  that  he  haii  got  to  the  bottom  of  the  subject ;  und 
to  feel  this  on  occasions  where  from  the  nature  of  the  case  it  is  impossible  he  can  really 
have  done  so,  is  inconsistent  with  the  character  of  great  profundity. — Whatelt. 

The  Funny  Man  can  never  be  an  orator.  He  may 
amuse  us,  but  we  do  not  let  liim  persuade  us.  We  yield 
our  judgment  only  to  the  speaker  who  is  thoroughly  in 
earnest. 

There  are  things  incompatible  with  unction,  such  as  wit,  an 
analysis  too  strict,  a  tone  too  dictatorial,  logic  too  formal,  irony, 
the  use  of  language  too  secular  or  too  absti-act,  a  form  too  literaiy ; 
for  unction  supposes  abundance,  overflow,  fluidity,  pliableness.  — 

ViNET. 

The  pathetic  and  the  facetious  differ  not  only  in  subject  and  effect,  a?  will  appear 
upon  the  mast  sui>erficial  review  of  what  has  been  said,  but  also  in  the  manner  of  imita- 
tion. In  this  the  man  of  humor  descends  to  a  minuteness  which  the  orator  disdains. 
The  former  will  often  successfully  run  into  downright  mimicry,  and  exhibit  peculiarities 
in  voice,  gesture,  and  pronunciation,  which  in  the  other  would  be  intolerable.  The  rea- 
son of  the  difference  is  this:  That  we  may  divert,  by  exciting  scorn  and  contempt,  the 
individual  must  be  exjwsed  ;  that  we  may  move  by  interesting  the  more  generous  prin- 
ciples of  humanity,  the  language  and  sentiments  not  so  much  of  the  individual  as  of  hu- 
man nature  must  be  displayed.  So  very  different,  or  rnther  opposite,  are  these  two  in 
this  respect,  that  there  could  not  be  a  more  effectual  expedient  for  undoing  the  charm  of 
the  most  affecting  representation,  than  an  attempt  in  the  speaker  to  mimic  the  personal 


Cbap.  XXVI]. 


MODERATION.  513 


■inRulmritics  of  the  man  for  whom  he  desires  to  interwit  na.  On  the  other  hand,  in  the 
humorous  when-  the  em\  is  diversion,  even  overacting,  if  imxlerat*',  is  not  improper.— 
Cajipbkix. 

The  Objection  to  a  predominance  of  the  humorous 
in  a  public  speaker  is  not  to  the  Innnor  but  to  tlie  affecta- 
tion, the  bent  of  mind  that  seeks  to  look  upon  things  not 
as  they  are,  but  as  tliey  may  be  made  to  seem  laughable. 
When  the  wit  is  plainly  subordinate  to  the  thought,  and 
employed  not  for  itself  but  as  the  most  forcible  expression 
of  the  thought,  it  is  the  happiest  element  of  perfection  in 
a  discourse,  especially  in  discussion.     (See  page  81.) 

Wit  may  sometimes  be  of  service  at  the  bar,  especially  in  a 
lively  reply,  by  which  we  may  throw  ridicule  on  something  that 
has  been  said  on  the  other  side.  But  though  the  reputation  of 
wit  be  dazzling  to  a  young  pleader,  I  would  never  advise  him  to 
rest  his  strength  upon  this  talent.  It  is  not  his  business  to  make 
an  audience  laugh,  but  to  convince  the  judge ;  and  seldom  or  never 
did  any  one  rise  to  eminence  in  his  profession  by  being  a  witty 
lawyer. — Blair. 

Moderation  is  another  essential  quality,  especially  in 
enlisting  the  sympathies  of  the  audience.  Even  when 
passion  is  aroused,  and  the  orator  seems  to  be  sweeping 
his  hearers  along  by  the  torrent  of  his  fiery  words,  he  will 
still  be  wary  not  to  be  more  violent  than  their  excitement 
warrants,  remembering  that  there  is  but  one  step  from  the 
sublime  to  the  ridiculous. 

Besenre  haa  great  force.  This  devout  and  holy  sobriety  of  ex- 
pression is  not  merely  a  discipline  worthy  of  being  reverenced  for 
its  motive ;  it  is  a  wise  and  wholesome  economy.  Feeling  is  ex- 
hausted by  the  expression  of  feeling.  Never  without  an  evident 
and  impracticable  miracle  can  the  words  of  the  i>oot  respecting  the 
magic  cup  be  spoken  of  the  soul : 

And  atUl  the  more  the  Taae  poured  forth 

Th«  IDOCW  a  BMOMd  to  hold.— OTID. 


514  ELOQUBNCK  [Part  V. 

Beserved  men,  when  that  reserve  is  not  the  mark  of  sterility, 
preserve  the  strength  of  their  soul  just  as  temperate  men  preserve 
their  bodily  vigor.  Nay,  their  very  reser\'e  is  usually  a  pledge 
and  a  foundation  of  mental  strength.  Nothing  moves  us  so  deeply 
as  a  single  word  from  the  heart  of  one  whose  words  are,  from  a 
sense  of  duty,  few. — Vinet. 

M.  Clemenceau,  the  French  Minister,  was  devoid  of  enthusiasm 
and  made  no  secret  of  his  contempt  for  the  imaginativeness  and 
"gush"  of  the  Southern  orators.  Once,  after  one  of  Gambetta's 
most  impassioned  speeches,  Clemenceau  was  seen  to  wear  a  scorn- 
ful expression.  **  Why,  you  must  admit  that  it  was  a  magnificent 
oration,"  expostulated  M.  Naquet.  "It  was  incomplete,"  replied 
Clemenceau,  dryly ;  •*  M.  Gambetta  should  have  accompanied  him- 
self on  the  guitar." 

The  following  eulogy  upon  Justice  Clifford,  by  Senator  Davis,  is 
an  admirable  example  of  moderation  in  a  field  of  oratory  where 
there  is  peculiar  temptation  to  extravagance : 

The  members  of  the  bar  have  come  togfthcr  to  perform  the  sad  duty  of  oflfering  proper 
r*q>eot  to  the  memory  of  the  late  Mr.  Justice  Nathan  Clifford.  It  was  my  privilege  to  be 
•Modated  with  him  on  the  bench  for  fifteen  years,  and  it  was  my  pleasure  to  know  him 
(doaely  daring  all  that  time,  in  the  relationH  of  an  unbroken  personal  friendship.  He  wa<t 
a  pure  jurist,  who,  iis  he  profession  know,  was  patient,  scrupulous,  faithful  to  every  duty, 
and  earnest  tu  be  right.  Inveftigation  to  him  was  a  labor^of  love,  and  industry  was  u 
recreation.  Well  equipped  in  the  Bcience  of  the  law,  a  clear  head  and  a  wise  judgment 
rarely  failed  to  carry  him  to  sound  conclusions ;  and,  whatever  they  might  be,  the  court 
and  bar  accepted  them  idways  as  the  result  of  his  hone«t  convictions.  As  a  citizen,  his 
life  was  an  example.  As  a  patriot,  he  was  eminent  for  devotion  to  free  institutions.  As 
a  man,  he  was  noted  for  the  best  qualities  that  challenge  respect  and  admiration.  As  a 
friend,  he  was  stanch  and  self-denying.  His  public  services  and  his  private  virtues  will 
long  be  cherished  by  a  grateful  public. 

Pungency  is  the  most  manifest  element  of  success  in 
a  public  speaker.  We  yield  our  time  reluctantly  to  one 
who  does  not  seem  to  be  giving  us  something  to  grasp ; 
and  we  grasp  only  ideas  that  are  clean-cut,  vigorous,  com- 
plete. 

I  do  not  think  that  so  much  harm  is  done  by  giving 
error  to  a  child,  as  by  giving  truth  in  a  lifeless  form. — 
Chaining. 

An  old  man,  asked  how  he  liked  a  certain  sermon,  re- 


Chap.  XXVL]  PUNGENCY.  'ilS 

plied,  "I  liked  it  very  well,  except  that  tliere  was  no 
pinch  to  it.  I  always  like  to  have  a  little  pinch  to  every 
sermon." 

It  has  been  said  of  the  celebrated  chancellor  of  England, 
Lord  Somers,  that  he  once  delivered  a  speech  in  the  House 
of  Peers  in  the  space  of  seven  minutes,  which  was  so  re- 
plete with  sense,  wisdom,  and  intelligence,  that  the  debate 
was  closed  on  his  resuming  his  seat,  every  one  being  sat- 
isfied that  so  wise  a  counsellor  had  embodied  in  his  ad- 
dress all  the  information  which  was  essential  to  the  proper 
elucidation  of  the  question  then  under  consideration. — 
McQueen. 

Lord  Bacx>n's  Oratoby. — Yet  there  happened  in  my  time  one 
noble  speaker  who  was  full  of  gravity  in  his  speaking.  His  lan- 
guage (where  he  could  spare  or  pass  by  a  je*)  was  nobly  cen- 
sorious. No  man  ever  spake  more  neatly,  more  pressly,  more 
weightily,  or  suffered  less  emptiness,  less  idleness,  in  what  he 
uttered.  No  member  of  his  8i>eech  but  consipted  of  his  own 
graces.  His  hearera  could  not  cough  or  look  aside  from  him 
without  I0.S8.  He  commanded  where  he  sjioke,  and  had  his  judges 
angry  and  pleased  at  his  devotion.  No  man  had  their  affectioiu3 
more  in  his  iK)wer.  The  fear  of  every  man  that  heard  him  was 
lest  he  should  make  an  end.  — Johnson. 

Thb  Obatoby  op  Dkmosthekes. — He  not  only  prompts  to  vigor- 
ous conduct,  but  he  laj-s  down  the  plan  of  that  conduct ;  he  enters 
into  particulars ;  and  points  out,  \*ith  great  exactness,  the  meas- 
ures of  execution.  This  is  the  strain  of  these  orations.  They  art* 
strongly  animated,  and  full  of  the  impetuosity  and  fire  of  public 
spirit  Tbey  proceed  in  a  continued  strain  of  inductions,  conse- 
quences, and  demonstrations,  founded  on  sound  reason.  The  fig- 
ures which  he  uses  are  never  sought  after,  but  always  rise  from 
the  subject.  He  employs  them  sjiaringly,  indeed,  for  splendor  and 
ornament  are  not  the  distinctions  of  this  onitor's  composition.  It 
is  an  energy  of  thought  i>eonliar  to  himself  which  forms  his  char- 
acter and  sets  him  above  all  oMiers.  He  api>oar8  to  attend  much 
more  to  things  than  to  words.     We  forget  the  orator  and  think  oi 


516  ELOQUENCE.  [Part  V. 

the  business.  He  warms  the  mind  and  impels  to  action.  He  has 
no  parade  and  ostentation  ;  no  methods  of  insinuation ;  no  labored 
introductions ;  but  is  like  a  man  full  of  his  subject,  who,  after 
preparing  his  audience  by  a  sentence  or  two  for  hearing  plain 
truths,  enters  directly  on  business.— Blair,  i.  366. 

There  in  the  epeaker  who  has  nothing  lo  mj,  and  who  wys  it ;  there  is  the  speaker 
who  has  aomething  lo  aay,  and  who  doe*  not  aay  It ;  and  there  ia  the  speaker  who  ha<i 
Homething  to  mt,  and  who  does  say  it. 

The  flr«t  rUe$  one.  It  la  proroking— ixmsidering  the  brevity  of  life — to  have  the  time 
of  a  whole  company  wasted,  ita  temper  mfBed,  and  iu  mind  hardened  against  something 
good  by  soch  an  Impertinenee. 

The  second  awakens  a  kind  of  pity.  The  heart  must  be  hard  indeed  that  is  unmoved 
by  an  honest  man— at  leant  a  man  with  no  evil  detiign— with  knowledge  or  notions  more 
or  less  valuable,  vainly  attempting  to  get  them  oot.  One  feels  a  compassion  akin  to  that 
which  a  whooping-congh  awakens.  Yon  can  only  stand  by,  helpless ;  and  if,  in  either 
case,  yon  try  a  clap  on  the  back,  the  chances  are  that  yon  do  more  mischief  than  good. 

The  third  excites  a  feeling  of  satisfaction,  soch  satisfaction  as  one  has  in  seeing  a 
team  well  handled,  and  carried  neatly  ronnd  a  corner,  or  a  ship  Hkilfully  bronght  into 
her  berth,  or  in  watching  a  dexterous  carver  at  the  family  table  (mostly  a  lady)  put  a 
nice  helping  before  evetf  one,  and  yet  appear  to  treat  the  noble  bird  with  no  rudeness,  but 
rather  with  a  sort  of  respectful  tenderness  that  shrinks  from  disfiguring  the  form. 

There  are  s|>eakei  8  who  are  all  iutnxluction.  They  are  always  coming  up  to  their 
theme.  It  appears  to  be  a  kind  of  ignUfeUuwt  to  them.  They  are  perpetually  nearing  it, 
but  "  the  faithless  phantom  tlies,"  and  they  are  shut  off.  or  choked  off,  before  they  have 
overtaken  it.  You  feel,  in  hearing,  like  the  man  who  conscientiously  believed  he  was  to 
eat  through  the  bill  of  fare,  and  who  was  weary  but  unsatisfied  by  the  time  he  had  got 
through  the  six  kindi>  of  soup  at  the  top. 

Others  are  all  conclusion.  They  have  "  finally,"  and  "  once  more,"  and  "  another  re- 
mark," and  "  it  occurs  to  them  to  add,"  and  "  before  sitting  down  they  wish  to  express,'" 
and  in  conclusion  they  have  two  or  three  "  observations  to  offer."  This  is  the  modem 
substitute  for  the  rack.  It  tortures  one  from  the  crown  of  the  head  to  the  sole  of  the 
foot.  It  goes  to  the  very  marrow  of  one's  bones.  You  envy  those  who.  unrestrained  by 
fear  or  shame,  can  go  out.  You  inquire  mentally.  Is  this  a  free  country  ?  You  feel  as 
the  peasant  must  have  felt,  who  stood  by  the  river  to  cross  when  the  water  had  all  flowed 
past ;  and  when  your  fluent  and  gifted  tormentor  really  ends,  you  are  too  exhausted  to 
have  a  lively  feeling  of  pleasure ;  and  yet  the  sickly  signs  of  satisfaction  you  show  at  his 
having  finished  at  all,  he  probably  takes  as  a  tribute  to  his  powers. 

There  is  the  gushing  speaker.  He  has  emotions  "always  on  hand."  His  "Oh's" 
and  "  Ah's  "  fall  like  rain.  He  is  a  standing  interjection.  Sometimes  he  is  violently 
enamored  of  everybody  present  Even  the  doorkeeper  hardly  escapes.  He  singles  out 
classes,  and  individuals,  and  tells  the  audience  the  particular  kind  of  affection  he  has  for 
them,  its  duration,  and  the  occasion  of  its  birth.  Such  speakers  are  the  "  free-lovers"  of 
the  platform.  They  ought  to  he  frowned  upon.  They  use  up  the  tender  words  of  good- 
will, and  do  not  leave  a  man  phrases  enough  unvulgarized  by  their  cheap  emotion,  un- 
smeared  by  their  treade,  in  which  to  express  honest  love  to  his  wife,  his  friend,  or  his 
children. 

There  is  the  pleasing  speaker — dress  faultless,  words  clean-cut,  neat  and  select,  no 
conviction  to  make  any  one  uncomfortable — yon  could  not  disagree  with  him  if  you  tried. 


Chap.  XXVL]  SPEAKERS.  517 

The  crystal  utrwuna  with  pleasing  murmon  creep  : 

bat  the  man  hai  wnae  enoogh  to  atop  before — as  in  Pope's  lines — the  hearer  ia 

Threatened,  not  in  vain,  with  sleep. 

He  makea  a  lorely  "  chairman,*'  and  is  good  at  a  preeentation,  and  returns  thanks  with 
extraoadinary  grace  of  words.  The  world  is  much  indebted  to  the  "  pleasing  "  speaker. 
He  Inbrloates  the  wheda  of  eodal  life,  and  putn  men  in  good  temi>er. 

There  ia  the  gymnastic  speaker.  He  acts  all  he  sayH,  and  more.  He  is  to  be  seen, 
like  the  dear  little  pets  at  table,  rather  than  heard.  His  hands,  his  limbs,  his  walk,  his 
mnning  aboat,  keep  at  least  yoor  eyes  oocapied.  He  gives  some  enjoyment  to  a  certain 
order  of  mind,  of  the  same  kind  afforded  to  children  by  the  monkeys. 

80  does  the  flashing  speaker.  He  sparkles— without  any  needful  connection  between 
the  gleams — any  more  than  between  the  flashes  of  sheet-lightning.  When  he  has  made  a 
rcpntation,  the  hearers  wait  and  watch  for  the  displays,  and  even  dificount  them,  and 
when  he  has  burnt  out  there  is  no  more  impression  left  than  by  ftre-works  In  the  sky. 
*'  We  have  Keen,  admired,  applauded  ;  now  let  as  go  home." 

There  is  finally  the  heavy,  generally  sensible,  siieaker,  who  has  ideas  more  or  leea 
clear  or  valaable  in  which  he  believes,  and  manages,  more  or  less  clumsily,  to  get  out. 
Of  this  class  of  speaker,  the  writer  knows  little  with  certainty,  for  we  do,  as  a  rule,  the 
least  know  onrselves.  But  on  general  principles  it  may  be  confidently  alleged  that  if  one 
haa  Ihooghta — not  imaginations  or  notions  of  them  (which  are  to  thoughts  as  clouds  to  a 
gtaw  of  water)— he  is  to  be  blamed  if  he  does  not  toke  pains  to  overcome  difficnlties  in 
the  way  of  uttering  them :  for  they  can  be  overcome  :  and  the  human  tongiie,  under 
proper  management,  is  equal  to  the  expression  of  all  practical  and  really  aerrioeable 
Idea*.— Jobs  Hall. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Eloquence. 
Persuasion,  p  505. 
ADAi-rATH)X,  p  5()fi. 

Special  care  must  l>e  taken  to  exclude : 

a.  Subtilo  an<i  far-fetched  considerations,  p.  507. 

b.  Subtile  and  pedantic  language  and  imagery,  p.  507. 

e.  Considerations  alien  to  the  ways  of  thinking   of  the 

audience,  p.  508. 
d.  Considerations  of  too  high  a  moral  tone,  p.  508. 

f.  Imagery,  phraseology,  and  rhythm  too  rich,  p.  608. 
The  charactek  ok  the  speaker,  p.  509. 

Vanity,  p   510. 

Sincerity,  p.  511. 

The  funny  man,  p.  512. 

The  objection  to  tlip  h timorous,  p.  518. 
MODBRATION,  p    51:? 
PUNOKNC'Y,  p.   514. 

Lord  Baron's  oratory,  p.  ijl5. 

The  oratory  of  DemostheoM,  p.  515. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ARGUMENT. 

Argument  implies  a  point  at  issue,  and  will  be  more 
or  less  prominent  in  oratory  according  as  the  purpose  of 
the  speaker  is  more  or  less  directed  toward  inducing  his 
hearers  to  take  certain  action. 

Thus  the  lawyer's  plea  is  intended  to  clear  his  client,  and  will 
be  almost  purely  an  argument  that  justice  demands  it ;  while  the 
after-dinner  sj^eaker,  whose  purpose  is  mainly  to  promote  good 
feeling  among  those  i)re8ent,  will  avoid  anything  that  might  seem 
an  effort  to  proselyte  those  present  to  views  of  his  own. 

Compare  pages  62,  67,  74. 

The  division  of  the  argumentative  oration  into  parts  is 
usually  as  follows:  (I)  The  Introduction,  (2)  The  Narra- 
tion, (3)  The  Proposition,  (4)  The  Argument,  (5)  The  Con- 
clusion. 

How  prominent  this  division  (or  Partition,  as  it  is 
often  called)  should  be  made  to  the  hearer,  is  a  matter  of 
some  discussion,  but  all  agree  that  the  analysis  should  be 
distinct  to  the  speaker. 

If  formal  {xirtitions  give  the  sermon  less  of  the  oratorical  ap- 
pearance, they  render  it,  however,  more  clear,  more  easily  appre- 
hended, and,  of  course,  more  instructive  to  the  bulk  of  hearers, 
which  is  always  the  main  object  to  he  kept  in  view.  The  heads  of 
a  sermon  are  great  assistances  to  the  memory  and  recollection  of  a 
bearer.  They  serve  also  to  fix  his  attention.  They  enable  him 
more  easily  to  keep  pace  with  the  progress  of  the  discourse  ;  they 


520  ARGUMENT.       '  [Part  V. 

give  him  pansos  and  resting-places,  where  he  can  reflect  on  what 
has  been  said  and  look  forward  to  what  is  to  follow.  They  are 
attended  with  this  advantage,  too,  that  they  give  the  audience  the 
opiK)rtunity  of  knowing,  beforehand,  when  they  are  to  be  relieved 
from  the  fatigue  of  attention,  and  thereby  make  them  follow  the 
speaker  more  imtiently.  ...  If  his  heads  be  well  chosen,  his 
marking  them  out  and  distinguishing  them,  in  place  of  impairing 
the  unity  of  the  whole,  renders  it  more  conspicuous  and  complete, 
by  showing  how  all  the  parts  of  a  discourse  hang  upon  one  an- 
other and  tend  to  one  point. — Blair. 

On  the  other  hand,  Campbell  remarks  that  the  cohesion  of  the 
pai*ts  in  a  cabinet  or  other  piece  of  furniture  seems  always  the 
more  complete,  the  less  the  pegs  and  tacks  so  necessary  to  eflfeot 
it  are  exposed  to  view.* 

Cicero  did  not,  as  some  have  asserted,  totally  condemn  the 
practice  of  announcing  the  partition.  He  only  condemned  such 
long  ones  as  burden  the  memory  of  the  hearei*s,  and  being  so  con- 
fined to  them  as  never  to  indulge  in  a  digression.  Quintilian 
would  have  us  always  announce  it. 

Ffindlon's  opinion  concerning  divisions  is  best  expressed  in  his 


•  This  figure  in  need  by  Whately  in  another  connection  an  follows : 
"  It  happens,  nnfortnnately,  that  JohnRon^s  etyle  is  particularly  easy  of  imitation, 
even  by  writers  utterly  destitute  of  his  vigor  of  thonght ;  and  such  imitators  are  intolera- 
ble. They  bear  the  same  resemblance  to  their  model  that  the  armor  of  the  Chinese,  as 
described  by  travellers,  consisting  uf  thick  quilted  cotton  covered  with  stiff  glazed  paper, 
does  to  that  of  the  ancient  knights ;  equally  glittering,  and  bulky,  but  destitute  of  the 
temper  and  firmness  which  was  its  sole  advantage.  At  first  sight,  indeed,  this  kind  of 
style  Rppertre  far  from  easy  of  attainment,  on  account  of  its  being  remote  from  the  col- 
loquial, and  having  an  elaborately  artificial  appearance  ;  but  in  reality,  there  is  nothing 
less  difficult  to  actinire.  To  string  together  subsUmliveH,  connected  by  conjunctions, 
which  is  the  characteristic  of  Johnson's  -tyle,  is,  in  fact,  the  rudest  and  clumsiest  mode 
of  expressing  our  thoughts  :  we  have  only  to  find  names  for  our  ideas,  and  then  put  them 
together  by  connectives,  instead  of  interweaving,  or  rather  felting  them  together,  by  a 
due  admixture  of  verbs,  participles,  prepositions,  etc.  So  that  this  way  of  writing,  as 
contrasted  with  the  other,  may  be  likene<l  to  the  primitive  rude  carpentry,  in  which  the 
materials  were  united  by  coarse  external  implements,  pino,  nails,  and  cramps,  when  com- 
pared with  that  art  in  its  most  improvetl  state,  after  the  invention  of  dovetail  joints, 
grooves,  and  mortises,  when  the  junctions  are  effected  by  forming  properly  the  extremi- 
ties of  the  pieces  to  be  joined  8«)  as  at  once  to  consolidate  and  conceal  the  juncture." 

It  may  be  suggested  that  there  is  in  the  Eastlake  style  a  motlem  revolt  against  the  ex- 
cessive concealment  of  the  niean^  by  which  the  parts  of  a  piece  of  furniture  are  made  to 
cohen.- ;  and  that  taste  jnsi  now  ntjuires  not  oidy  that  a  chair  should  be  strong  but  (hat 
it  should  look  strong,  the  sources  of  its  strength  being  manifest. 


Thap.  XXVn.]  THE  PARTITION.  521 

comment  on  the  partition  above  quoted.  **  When,"  says  he,  "  we 
choose  to  divide  a  subject,  we  should  do  it  plainly  and  naturally. 
Wo  should  make  such  a  division  as  is  all  contained  in  the  subject 
itst'lf  -  a  dinsion  which  elucidates  and  methodizes  the  matter, 
which  may  be  easily  remembered,  and  at  the  same  time  help  to  re- 
call all  the  rest ;  in  brief,  a  division  which  exhibits  the  extent  of 
the  subject  and  of  its  parts.  Exactly  the  opposite  is  the  course  of 
this  man  here,  who  endeavora  to  dazzle  you  at  the  outset,  to  put 
you  oflf  with  three  epigrams  or  three  enigmas,  which  he  turns  and 
turns  again  so  dexterously  that  you  fancy  you  are  witnessing  some 
tricks  of  legerdemain."— Heb\'ey. 

Method.— It  is  only  in  the  net  of  composition,  and  occasionally  in  the  coarse  of  deliv- 
ery, that  on  arbitrary,  mixed,  or  cryptic  arrangement  will  often  be  wisely  adopted.  Of 
one  of  the  czars  of  Rusaia,  Dr.  W'atla  relates  that  when  he  first  learned  the  art  of  war  he 
practued  all  the  rales  of  circamvallation  Hod  contra vallatiun  at  the  siege  of  a  certain  city 
of  Lavonia :  and  be  passed  so  mach  of  his  time  in  mathematical  approaches  that  he  wasted 
the  ft«ason  fur  taking  the  town. 

Some  neTor  acquire  a  free  method,  because  in  their  minds  the  snbject  Is  bonnd  np 
with  rigid  notions  of  rhetorical  unity.  Thinking  thus,  they  adjust  almost  all  the  parta  of 
their  sermons  in  such  an  onler  that  the  principal  subject  or  pro|>08itlon  Khali  be  continu- 
ally kept  before  the  hearer.  Their  plans  are  apt  to  resemble  the  pine  or  tlr.  the  main 
body  of  whi(4i  grow*  straight  up  to  the  very  top  of  the  tree,  while  branches  shoot  out  on 
ita  aidea  at  regular  intenrala;  and  there  are.  it  must  be  allowed,  certain  subjects,  eg., 
thow  of  the  argumentative  ami  demonstrative  kind,  which  sometimes  derive  considerable 
energy  and  gracefulness  from  the  conntant  visibility  of  the  stem  proposition.  But  still  it 
in  tu  be  remembered  that  there  in  also  a  unity  of  amplification  and  of  varioos  applications. 
Almost  all  fruit-trees  divide  the  trunk  among  the  first  brunches,  and  sacrifice  height  and 
symmetry  of  stem,  limb,  and  twig  to  that  rotundity  which  exposes  the  greatest  amount  of 
fruit  to  the  ripening  weather  and  the  admiring  eye.  It  is,  therefore,  by  keeping  the  util- 
ity of  our  sermoo  ever  before  n«  that  wo  acquire  the  truest  unity,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
that  art  of  deceiving  art,  of  which  Ven.uitiuH  FortuiiotUH  writes. 

No  man  can  methodiie  thoroughly  well  whose  mind  has  not  been  disciplined  to  habitM 
of  aoand  thinking ;  for  "  method."  a-«  Colendge  observes,  "  is  a  |X)wer  or  spirit  of  the  in 
tolleet.  pervading  all  that  it  doea,  rather  than  it«  tangible  product.*^  Nor  is  he  Ukely  to 
radooe  any  aabjeet  to  a  jnat  method  who  has  not  a  distinct,  particular,  and  comprebensivw 
kaowladg*  thereof.  Bat  to  learn  to  arrange  a  snbject  practically  and  popularly,  we 
••hould  add  to  all  thla  nooh  laterooune  with  men  and  considerable  experience  in  public 
■peaking. 

Bat  h  not  aa  analytic  mind  neeessarily  lacking  in  force  ?  Believe  it  not.  The  ten- 
dflpoy  of  nethod  la  asaotly  the  opposite.  By  contribating  to  perspionity  and  by  reducing 
the  whole  eabieet  to  one  view.  It  stlmnlatcs  energy,  sometimes  to  an  extravagant  degree. 
MasalUon  and  Baxter  ware  both  analytic  thlnken,  and  yet  both  wrote  and  spoke  with  a 
force  that  is  Demnethenlan  The  latter  stndied  the  schoolmen  chiefly,  It  would  seen,  be* 
caoae  of  their  aentenees  and  skill  in  methodology.  "  And  tliongh,^  says  he.  '*  I  know  no 
man  whose  genios  iBore  abhorreth  conf  ludon  instead  of  nuommtry  distinction  and  method, 
yM  I  loathe  the  ImpertineBt,  oaekM  art,  and  pratended  pceoepta,  and  dlstinolioiM  which 


522  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

have  no  foundations  in  the  matter.*^  He  aomewhere  t»yn  he  never  thought  hu  understood 
anything  until  he  could  anatomin  iL  Method,  therefore,  as  it  belongs  in  germ  and 
potentiality  to  the  mind  itaelf,  w>  it  is  the  moat  perfeoCljr  evolved  by  the  moat  capeciooa 
and  cultivated  minds.— Hebtkt. 

So  important  is  analysis,  that  the  best  writers  re- 
commend its  practice  upon  themes  of  all  kinds,  whether  or 
not  they  are  to  be  spoken  upon.  The  young  speaker  will 
find  it  an  excellent  habit  when  in  public  assemblies  of  any 
kind  to  reflect  upon  what  he  would  say  if  he  were  calle<l 
upon  to  speak,  however  impossible  it  may  be  that  ho 
should  be  called  upon.  In  this  way  he  will  acquire  readi- 
ness in  seizing  upon  a  tangible  thought  and  in  putting 
that  thought  into  presentable  form,  that  will  some  time 
prove  of  service. 

It  will  also  be  found  a  most  useful  exercise  for  a  beginner  to 
practise— if  possible  under  the  eye  of  a  judicious  lecturer— the 
drawing  out  of  a  great  number  of  such  skeletons,  more  than  ho 
subsequently  fills  up ;  and  likewise  to  practi>e  the  analyzing,  in 
the  same  way,  the  composition  of  another,  whether  heard  or  read. 
— Whatklt. 

Above  all  things,  in  divisions  take  care  of  putting  anything  in  the  first  part  which  *:up- 
poses  the  understanding  of  the  second,  or  which  obliges  yon  to  treat  of  the  second  to  make 
the  first  understood ;  for  by  these  means  you  will  throw  yourself  into  great  confusion,  and 
be  obliged  to  make  many  tedious  repetitions.  You  must  endeavor  to  disengnge  the  one 
from  the  other  as  well  as  you  can ;  and  when  your  parts  are  too  closely  connected  with  each 
other,  place  the  most  detached  first,  and  endeavor  to  make  that  serve  for  a  foundation  to 
the  explication  of  the  second,  and  the  second  to  the  third ;  so  that  at  the  end  of  your  ex- 
plication the  hearer  may  with  a  glance  perceive,  as  it  were,  a  perfect  body,  or  a  finishetl 
building ;  for  one  of  the  greatest  excellences  of  a  sermon  is  the  harmony  of  its  component 
parts,  that  th«  first  leads  to  the  second,  the  second  serves  to  introduce  the  third ;  that 
they  which  go  before  excite  a  desire  for  those  which  are  to  follow ;  and,  in  a  word,  that 
the  last  has  a  special  relation  to  all  the  others,  in  order  to  form  in  the  hearers*  minds  a 
complete  idea  of  the  whole.— Claude. 

(I)  The  Introduction  is  the  last  part  to  be  com- 
posed.    (See  page  328.) 

The  best  authorities  concur  in  the  opinion  that  the  exordium 
should  not  be  chosen  and  planned  until  the  principal  matter  of 
the   sermon  be   selected  and  arranged.     This  is  in  accordance 


Chap.  XXVII.]  THE  INTRODUCTION.  623 

with  Cicero's  example  and  advice :  ' '  Quod  primum  est  dicendum 
postremnm  soleo  cogitare."  ("The  last  thing  one  finds  out  is 
what  to  put  first."— Pascal.)  Some  forbid  us  to  dream  of  the  in- 
troduction until  the  rest  of  the  discourse  has  been  written.  But 
Vinet  thinks  this  mode  of  proceeding  is  not  natural,  as  a  good  ex- 
ordium prepares  the  reader  to  compose,  as  well  as  the  congrega- 
tion to  hear.  And  yet  he  approves  Cicero's  method.  If,  however, 
we  thus  write  our  exordium,  we  are  compelled  to  begin  to  arrange 
and  to  express  those  thoughts  first  which  have  occupied  our 
thoughts  the  shortest  time.  Now,  as  a  good  exordium  is  confess- 
edly very  diflScult  to  compose,  and  the  success  of  the  sermon  so 
much  depends  upon  its  beginning,  it  is  but  fair  to  allow  the 
preacher  the  longest  possible  time  for  pondering  its  materials  and 
for  making  such  changes  in  them  as  the  composition  of  the  rest 
may  happen  to  suggest. — Hkrvey. 

The  rule  laid  down  by  Cicero,  not  to  compose  the  introduction 
first,  but  to  consider  first  the  main  argument  and  let  that  suggest 
the  exordium,  is  just  and  valuable  ;  for  otherwise,  as  he  observes, 
seldom  anything  vnU  suggest  itself  but  vague  generalities,  ' '  com- 
mon" topics,  as  he  calls  them,  i.e.,  what  would  equally  well  suit 
several  different  compositions;  whereas  an  introduction  that  is 
composed  last  will  naturally  spring  out  of  the  main  subject  and 
appear  appropriate  to  it. — Whately. 


I  And  Oicero  were  in  the  habit  of  preparing  at  th«ir  Itinire  different  Intro- 
i  to  be  prefixed  to  their  extemporaneous  orations.  They  thni  aecored  variety  at 
tiM  •xpenae  of  pertinence.  That  kind  of  exordium  which  might  be  adapted  to  aeveral 
oaosM  waa  in  Qnintilian^s  time  rei^irded  with  little  favor,  and  was  called  vulaare,  although 
he  admit*  that  it  was  not  alwayii  avoided  by  the  greatest  orators.  Some  old  rhetorician 
or  other  ha*  compared  such  exordia  to  the  sword  used  at  the  temple  of  Detphi,  which 
served  the  doable  purpose  uf  immolating  the  sacred  victims  and  executing  malefactors.— 


Sometimes  the  introduction  may  be  omitted,  the 
speaker  proceeding  at  once  to  the  matter  in  hand. 

Dean  Swift,  called  upon  to  preach  a  charity  sermon,  was  warned 
not  to  make  it  too  long.  So  he  chose  for  his  text  these  words : 
"  He  that  hath  pity  on  the  poor  lendeth  unto  the  Lord  ;  and  that 
which  he  hath  given  will  he  pay  him  again."  The  dean,  after 
looking  around,  and  repealing  his  text  in  a  more  emphatic  tone, 


524  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

added,  **  My  beloved  friends,  you  hear  the  terms  of  the  loan ;  and 
now,  if  you  like  the  security,  down  with  your  dust."  The  result 
was  a  satisfactory  collection. 

Let  the  student  bear  well  in  mind  that  the  greatest  possible 
diversity  requires  him  occasionally  to  proceed  at  once  to  the  matter 
in  hand.  — And  yet  some  brief  premonition  is  almost  always  neces- 
sary, lest  the  people  imagine,  as  Claude  says,  that  the  preacher  is 
aiming  to  do  with  them  what  the  angel  did  with  the  prophet,  when 
he  took  him  by  the  hair  of  the  head  and  carried  him  in  an  instant 
from  Judea  to  Babylon.— Hebvey. 

Conciliation  is  the  main  purpose  of  an  introduction. 
Tlie  speaker  shows  a  certain  presumption  in  coming  before 
an  audience  to  occupy  their  time,  and  he  must  placate 
them  by  showing  that  he  appreciates  the  privilege,  and 
that  his  effort  will  be  to  do  his  utmost  to  justify  it. 
Hence  he  should  be  moderate  in  tone  and  modest  in  man- 
ner. If  he  can  make  some  bappy  allusion  to  the  place 
and  time,  especially  to  what  has  just  been  said,  or  to  some 
circumstance  fresh  in  the  minds  of  his  audience,  be  will 
gain  attention  the  more  readily  because  he  will  seem  to 
rely  rather  on  his  wit  than  on  his  memoiy. 

The  exordiiun  and  the  peroi-ation  are,  according  to  Cicero,  the 
two  parts  which  are  to  be  devoted  to  excitation.  But  Quintilian 
has  made  an  important  distinction  as  to  the  degrees  of  excitation 
which  these  two  parts  of  a  speech  allow.  "In  the  introduction 
the  kind  feelings  of  the  judge  should  be  touched  but  cautiously 
and  modestly  ;  while  in  the  peroration  we  may  give  full  scope  to 
the  pathetic."     .     .     . 

One  principal  object  in  an  exordium  is  to  gain  and  secure  atten- 
tion. Among  the  things  that  draw  attention  are  reverence  and 
modesty.  Simeon  advises  his  students  to  adopt  such  a  tone  of 
voice  as  they  would  naturally  choose  if  they  were  speaking  to  per- 
sons older  than  themselves  and  to  whom  they  owed  reverence. 
Vinet  would  have  the  preacher  even  timid,  but  with  this  distinc- 
tion of  Mai-montel,  that  he  should  be  timid  for  himself  but  bold 
for  his  cause.     Another  way  to  make  jieople  give  ear  is  to  set  out 


Chap.  XXVU.]  THE  NARRATION.  525 

with  a  popular  saying,  objection,  difficulty,  apparent  contradic- 
tion, excuse  or  question,  which  is  afterward  to  be  disiwsed  of.  A 
fact  or  short  narrative  is  sometimes  sufficient  to  seize  and  enchain 
the  minds  of  an  audience.  .  .  .  Some  are  in  the  habit  of  for- 
mally asking  attention.  .  .  .  The  transition  from  the  exordium 
to  the  proposition  should  be  short  and  easy.  For  the  reason  that  the 
matter  of  their  introduction  is  either  inelevant  or  badly  arranged, 
some  preachers  appear  to  leap  a  very  broad  chasm  when  they  i>as8 
from  their  exordium  ;  and  a  written  or  printed  discoui-se  of  theii-s 
seems,  when  read,  not  unlike  a  temple  from  which  the  poi-tico  has 
been  separated  by  an  earthquake.— Hebvet. 

(2)  The  Narration  (or  Description,  as  it  is  some- 
times called),  should  be  presented  with  all  the  art  of  in- 
teresting suggested  in  the  chapter  on  this  form  of  compo- 
sition (see  pages  208  and  following),  but  with  this  kept  in 
mind,  that  the  story  is  told  not  for  its  own  sake,  but  to 
prepare  the  minds  of  the  hearers  for  the  proposition  and 
arguments  to  follow.  Hence  only  that  need  be  told  which 
will  tend  to  make  one's  hearers  prepared  to  hear  the  side 
one  is  about  to  present ;  though  often  this  will  require  a 
frank  presentation  of  circumstances  that  are,  or  seem  to 
be,  of  C(»ntraiy  tendency. 

(3)  The  Proposition  usually  precedes  the  Argu- 
ment, and  is  to  be  stated  distinctly  (see  page  318). 

A  proposition  that  is  well  known  (whether  easy  to  be  established 
or  not),  and  which  contains  nothing  jwirticularly  offensive,  should 
in  g(>neral  be  stated  at  once,  and  the  proofs  subjoined  ;  but  one 
not  familiar  to  the  hearers,  esi>eoially  if  it  be  likely  to  be  unac- 
ceptable, should  not  be  stated  at  the  outlet.  It  is  usually  l>etter, 
in  that  case,  to  state  tlie  arguments  fli-st.  or  at  lea.st  some  of  them, 
and  then  introduce  the  conclusion,  thus  assuming,  in  some  degree, 
the  character  of  an  investigator.  There  is  no  question  relating  to 
arrangement  more  important  than  tht»  jiresont.— Whately. 

(4)  The  Argument  should   sometimes  begin   with 


526  ARGUJiENT.  [Part  V 

refutation  of  tlie  arguments  of  an  opponent,  or  allaying  of 
known  prejudice  on  the  part  of  the  audience. 

Refutation  of  Objections  should  generally  be  placed  in  the 
midst  of  the  Argument ;  but  nearer  the  beginning  than  the 
end. 

If  indeed  very  strong  objections  have  obtained  much  currency 
or  have  been  just  stated  by  an  opponent,  so  that  what  is  asserted 
is  likely  to  be  regarded  as  paradoxical,  it  may  be  advisable  to  be- 
gin with  a  Refutation ;  but  when  this  is  not  the  case,  the  mention 
of  Objections  in  the  opening  will  be  likely  to  give  a  paradoxical 
air  to  our  assertion,  by  implying  a  consciousness  that  much  may 
be  said  against  it.  If,  again,  all  mention  of  objections  be  deferred 
till  the  last,  the  other  arguments  ydU.  often  be  listened  to  vrith 
prejudice  by  those  who  may  suppose  us  to  be  overlooking  what 
may  be  urged  on  the  other  side.  Sometimes,  indeed,  it  ^dll  be 
difficult  to  give  a  satisfactory  refutation  of  the  opposed  opinions 
till  we  have  gone  through  the  argimients  in  8upix>rt  of  our  own  ; 
even  in  that  case,  however,  it  will  be  better  to  take  some  notice  of 
them  early  in  the  Composition,  with  a  promise  of  afterward  con- 
sidering them  more  fully,  and  refuting  them.  This  is  Aristotle's 
usual  procedure. 

A  sophistical  use  is  often  made  of  this  last  rule,  when  the  ob- 
jections ai-e  such  as  cannot  really  be  satisfactorily  answered.  The 
skilful  sophist  will  often,  by  the  promise  of  a  triumphant  Refuta- 
tion hereafter,  gain  attention  to  his  own  statement,  which,  if  it 
be  made  pLiusible,  will  so  draw  off  the  hearer's  attention  from  the 
Objections,  that  a  very  inadequate  fulfilment  of  that  promise  will 
pass  unnoticed,  and  due  weight  will  not  be  allowed  to  the  Ob- 
jections.    .     .     . 

The  force  of  a  refutation  is  often  overrated  :  an  argument  which 
is  satisfactorily  answered  ought  merely  to  go  for  nothing ;  it  is 
possible  the  conclusion  drawn  may  nevei-theless  be  true  ;  yet  men 
are  apt  to  take  for  granted  that  the  conclusion  itself  is  disproved, 
when  the  arguments  brought  forward  to  establish  it  have  been 
satisfactorily  refuted  ;  assuming,  perhaps,  when  there  is  no  ground 
for  the  assumption,  that  these  are  all  the  arguments  that  could  be 
urged.  — Whately. 


Chap.  XXVII  ]  FRANKNESS.  527 

Frankness  in  stating  objections  that  are  sure  to  be 
presented  is  always  an  element  of  strength. 

On  the  above  principle,  that  a  weak  argument  is  positively 
hurtful,  is  founded  a  most  important  maxim,  that  it  is  not  only 
the  fairest,  but  also  the  wisest  plan  to  state  objections  in  their  full 
force  ;  at  least  wherever  there  does  exist  a  satisfactory  answer  to 
them  ;  otherwise  those  who  hear  them  stated  more  strongly  than 
by  the  uncandid  advocate  who  had  undertaken  to  repel  them,  will 
natui-ally  enough  conclude  that  they  are  unanswerable.  It  is  but 
momentary  and  ineffective  triumph  that  can  be  obtained  by  ma- 
noeu\Tes  like  those  of  Turennes's  charioteer,  who  furiously  chased 
the  feeble  stragglers  of  the  army,  and  evaded  the  main  front  of 
the  battle. 

Such  an  honest  avowal  as  I  have  been  recommending,  though 
it  may  raise  at  fii'st  a  feeble  and  brief  shout  of  exultation,  will  soon 
be  followed  by  a  general  and  increasing  murmur  of  approbation. 
Uncandid  as  the  world  often  is,  it  seldom  fails  to  applaud  the 
magnanimity  of  confessing  a  defect  or  a  mistake,  and  to  reward  it 
\inth  an  increase  of  confidence.  Indeed,  this  increased  confidence 
is  often  rashly  bestowed  by  a  kind  of  over-generosity  in  the  pub- 
lic, which  is  apt  too  hastily  to  consider  the  confession  of  an  error 
AS  a  proof  of  universal  sincerity.  Some  of  the  most  skilful  soph- 
ists acconlingly  avail  themselves  of  this,  and  gain  credence  for 
much  that  is  false  by  ai^knowledging,  with  an  air  of  frankness, 
some  one  mistake,  whiili,  like  a  tub  tlirown  to  a  whale,  they  sacri- 
fice for  the  sake  of  persuading  us  that  they  have  committed  only 
one  error.  — Whately. 

Objections  to  the  view  presented  must  not  be  un- 
dervalued (see  page  64). 

On  the  whole,  the  arguments  which  it  requires  the  greatest 
nicety  of  art  to  refute  effectually  (I  mean  for  one  who  has  truth 
on  his  side)  are  those  which  are  so  very  weak  and  silly  that  it  is 
difficult  to  make  their  absurdity  more  palpable  than  it  is  already. 
— Whatelt. 

Cicero  tells  us  that  he  always  conversed  at  full  length  with 
every  client  who  came  to  consult  him  ;  that  he  took  care  there 


528  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

Bhouhl  be  no  witness  to  their  conversation,  in  order  that  his  client 
might  explain  himself  more  freely ;  that  he  was  wont  to  start  every 
objection,  and  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  adverse  party  with  him, 
that  he  might  come  at  the  whole  truth  and  be  fully  prepare<l  on 
every  point  of  the  business ;  and  that  after  his  client  had  retired 
he  used  to  balance  all  the  facts  with  himself. — Blair. 

In  former  times  men  knew  by  experience  that  the  eaith  stands 
still,  and  the  sun  rises  and  sets.  Common-sense  taught  them  that 
there  could  be  no  antijiodes,  since  men  could  not  stand  with  their 
heads  dovinward  like  flies  on  the  ceiling.  Exjierieuce  taught  the 
king  of  Bantam  that  water  could  not  Ijecome  solid. — Whately. 

The  Irish  immigrant  who  wrote  back  to  his  brother  to  come 
over  to  a  country  where  they  had  meat  three  times  a  week,  was 
asked  why  he  said  that  when  he  himself  had  meat  every  day. 
"  Faith,  an'  would  ye  have  him  belave  me  a  liar  intirely  ?  "  he  re- 
plie<l ;  and  his  native  wit  did  not  mislead  him  ;  he  could  convince 
his  brother  best  by  making  his  statement  credible. 

Prejudice  is  best  overcome  by  showing  that  another 
view  is  preferable,  without  unnecessarily  pointing  out  that 
the  view  now  lield  is  absurd. 

Of  coarse  it  is  not  meant  that  a  refntation  shonld  ever  appear  (when  that  can  be 
avoided),  insufficient;  that  a  conclasion  shoald  be  left  doubtful  which  we  are  able  to 
establish  fully.  But  in  oombatin?  dee|:>-rooted  prejudices,  and  maintaining  ua|>opular 
and  paradoxical  truths,  the  point  to  be  aimed  at  should  be  to  adduce  what  is  sufticient, 
titut  ntU  'nuch  more  than  is  sufficient  to  prove  your  conclusion.  If  (in  such  a  ease)  you 
can  but  satisfy  men  that  your  opinion  is  decidedly  more  probable  than  the  opjwpite,  you 
will  have  carried  your  point  more  effectually  than  if  you  go  on  much  be\  ond  this  to  de- 
monstrate, by  a  multitude  of  the  most  forcible  arguments,  the  extreme  absurdity  of  think- 
ing differently,  till  you  have  afiCrontet!  the  self-esteem  of  sonic  and  awakened  the  distrust 
of  others.  A  French  writer,  M.  Say,  relates  a  story  of  some  one  who,  for  a  wa-rer,  stood 
a  whole  day  on  one  of  the  bridges  of  Paris,  oflfering  to  sell  a  five-franc  piece  for  one  franc 
and  (naturally)  not  finding  a  purchaser.  Laborers  who  are  employed  in  driving  wedges 
into  a  block  of  wood  are  careful  to  use  blows  of  no  grreater  force  than  is  just  sufficient.  If 
they  strike  too  hard,  the  elasticity  of  the  wood  will  throw  out  the  wedge.     .     .     . 

Some,  perhaps,  conscious  of  having  In^en  the  slaves  or  the  supp<irters  of  sn»h  preju- 
dices as  are  thus  held  up  to  contempt  (not  indeed  by  ihsdainfnl  lam^uajre,  but  simply  by 
being  placed  in  a  very  clear  light),  and  of  having  overlooked  truths  which,  when  thus 
clearly  explained  or  proved.  api>ear  perfectly  evident  evin  to  a  child,  will  t-onscquently 
be  stung  by  a  feeling  of  shame  passing  oflf  into  resentment,  which  stops  their  ears  against 
argument.  They  could  have  borne  perhaps  to  change  their  opinion,  but  not  so  to  change 
it  as  to  tax  their  former  opinion  with  the  grossest  folly.  They  would  be  so  sorry  to  think 
they  had  been  blinded  to  such  an  excess,  and  are  so  angry  with  him  who  is  endeavoring 


Chap.  XXVII]  RIDICULE.  529 

them  to  think  ko,  that  these  feelings  determine  them  not  to  think  it.— 


Whatblt. 

Hence  the  absurdity  of  the  paradox  that  he  who  confesses  a 
mistake  merely  shows  that  he  is  wiser  to-day  than  he  was  yester- 
day ;  the  fact  that  a  man  was  mistaken  yesterday,  so  far  as  it  shows 
anything,  indicates  that  he  is  likely  to  be  mistaken  to-day. 

Ridicule  is  a  most  effective  mode  of  refutation. 
Cleverly  to  burlesque  an  opponent's  arguments  will  cover 
him  with  confusion. 

It  was  a  just  opinion  of  Gorgias,  and  approved  by  Aristotle,  that 
the  serious  argument  of  an  adversary  should  be  confounded  by 
ridicule,  and  his  ridicule  by  serious  argument. — Campbell. 

He  (Sydney  Dobell)  nays :  *'  To  cxpreM  ia  tocurry  out  To  express  a  mind  is  to  carry 
oat  that  mlnii  Into  i^omc  equivalent.  By  an  equivalent  I  mean  that  product  of  an  active 
mind  which  being  presented  to  the  Bame  mind  when  pa»i8ive,  could  restore  the  former 
nutc  of  activity.'*  This  HeiMiiH  to  us  to  mean  (if  it  means  anything)  th.it  the  full,  verbal 
« xi>rc«.'«iot)  of  any  fevling— hate,  for  instance— would  bo  such  wor  Is  -as  would  nrouso  the 
fceliiiR  of  hate  in  iho  mind  that  ha<l  originally  felt  it.  But  as  this  feeling,  according  to 
Mr  Doltelt.  Ih  to  Iks  exciteti  In  the  mind  of  whoso  active  fi-eling  it  is  an  expression,  it  fol- 
luwi>  that  the  only  poMibIc  judge  of  the  perfect  ex|>rcs.sion  of  a  feeling  is  the  person  who 
cxprea«e8  it,  for  he  ii«  the  only  one  who  can  tell  whether  the  words  are  adequate  to  re- 
express  the  feeling  in  his  mind.  Thus  the  only  possible  judge  of  a  poem  is  the  author,  a 
conclusion  which  will  be  eagerly  hailed  by  mnny  unappreciated  geniosen.— iS^McXotor, 
July  1.  187n. 

Good  Temper  must  be  maintained  under  any  pro- 
vocation (see  pages  30,  77). 

It  is  not  unfrocpiently  the  case  that  i>ersons  who  are  participat- 
ing in  debate  become  flushed  with  irritation,  and  render  ill-natured 
and  splenetic  replies  to  questions  which  may  be  propounded  to 
them  by  a  debater  on  the  o])po8ite  side  of  the  question  to  them- 
selves. This  is  exceedingly  iniiK>litic.  If  a  si)eaker  cannot  pre- 
serve his  comi>osure  when  such  interrogatories  are  put  to  him  he 
ought  to  refrain  from  any  replication  to  them  whatever.  For  a 
mere  ebullition  of  batl  tem|M»r,  ^lithout  being  armed  with  the  ])rop- 
erty  of  sni)erior  \snt  or  roiiartee,  i)laces  the  speaker  himself  in  a 
di.sailvantageons  ]>oint  of  view  before  his  audience,  and  sheds  an 
euer\'ating  influence  on  his  cause. — McQuben. 

I^gic   is  the  proper  criterion  of  argument  considered 


530  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

in  itself,  and  it  is  for  Rhetoric  only  to  apply  and  arrange 
the  reasoning  that  logic  provides.  In  general  it  may  be 
said  that  the  strongest  arguments  should  come  last,  and 
that  when  circumstances  make  it  necessary  to  put  the 
strongest  first,  they  should  be  recapitulated  in  reverse 
order.  Of  all  rules  it  is  most  important  to  converge  all 
one's  power  on  the  main  point  at  issue.  Ignore  the  non- 
essentials (see  page  69),  but  let  nothing  swerve  your  mind 
or  that  of  your  hearers  from  the  strong  point  on  which 
you  rely.     "  Know  your  fact ;  hug  your  fact." 

Indeed,  in  any  composition  that  is  not  very  short,  the  most  fre- 
quent and  the  most  appropriate  kind  of  conclusion  is  a  recapitu- 
lation either  of  the  whole  or  of  part  of  the  arguments  that  have 
been  adduced. — Whatelt. 

It  is  a  weighty  remark  of  Cicero  that  "  it  will  be  necessary  to 
avoid  letting  it  have  the  air  of  a  childish  display  of  memory ;  and 
he  will  best  keep  clear  of  that  fault  who  does  not  recapitulate 
every  trifle,  but  touches  on  each  particular  briefly  and  dwells  on 
the  more  weighty  and  important  i)oints."  Quintilian  advises  us  to 
vary  and  enliven  our  enumerations  with  different  figures,  and  cites 
as  an  excellent  example  Cicero's  oration  against  Verres :  *'  If  your 
father  himself  were  your  judge  what  would  he  say  when  these 
things  are  proved  against  you  ?  "  and  then  enumerates  the  recapitu- 
lation. Maury  is  unsparing  in  his  censure  of  enumerations  such 
as  were  made  in  his  day.  He  quotes  in  his  favor  the  language  of 
Cicero,  who  compares  the  orator  that  dryly  and  formally  recapitu- 
lates to  a  serpent  crawling  round  in  a  circle  and  biting  his  own 
tail. — Hervet. 

Unity  is  more  important  in  oratory  than  in  any  other 
composition,  yet  it  does  not  exclude  occasional  digression 
for  legitimate  ends. 

The  imagination  is  eminently  a  weariable  faculty,  eminently 
delicate  and  incapable  of  bearing  fatigue  ;  so  that  if  we  give  it  too 
many  objects  at  a  time  to  employ  itself  upon,  or  very  grand  ones 
for  a  long  time  together,  it  fails  under  the  effort,  becomes  jaded. 


Chap.  XXVII.]  UNITY.  531 

exactly  as  the  limbs  do  by  bodily  fatigue,  and  incapable  of  an- 
swering any  farther  appeal  till  it  has  had  rest. — Kuskin. 

The  effect  of  disorder  in  reasoning  is  sometimes  grand  and  over- 
whelming, like  that  of  an  army  scaling  the  walls  of  a  city.  Robert 
Hall's  manner  is  an  example  of  this.  Foster  compares  his  inde- 
pendent propositions  to  a  number  of  separate  and  undisciplined 
savages.     .     .     . 

He  who  knows  not  how  to  wander  knows  not  how  to  explore  ; 
and  circumnavigators  have  changed  the  map  of  the  world  and 
greatly  enlarged  the  domain  of  civilized  nations,  because  furious 
gales  swept  them  out  of  their  course,  drove  them  up  and  down, 
and  finally  wrecked  them  among  the  rocks  of  the  imknown  coast. 

'•I  have  observed,"  says  John  Bunyan  ("Grace  Abounding," 
287)  "that  a  word  cast  in  by  the  bye  hath  done  more  execution  in 
a  sermon  than  all  that  was  spoken  besides."  "  He  wanders  from 
his  subject,"  complained  some  critic  of  the  late  English  preacher, 
John  Gualter.  *'  Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "  he  wanders  from  his  sub- 
ject to  the  heart."    .     .     . 

The  regressions  of  Demosthenes  are  more  frequent  and  more 
natural.  Lord  Brougham,  commenting  upon  a  passage  of  his 
oration  on  the  Crown,  thus  draws  attention  to  them,  and  at  the 
flame  time  contrasts  them  with  those  of  Fox.  •*  Here  is  the  same 
leading  topic  once  more  introduced  ;  but  introduced  after  new 
topics  and  fresh  illustrations.  The  repetitions,  the  enforcement 
again  and  again  of  the  same  points,  are  a  distinguishing  feature  of 
Demosthenes,  and  formed  also  one  of  the  characteristics  of  Mr. 
Fox's  great  eloquence.  The  ancient,  however,  was  incomparably 
more  felicitous  in  this  than  the  modem  ;  for  in  the  latter  it  often 
arose  from  carelessness,  from  ill-arranged  discourse,  from  want  of 
giving  due  attention,  and  from  ha\'ing  once  or  twice  attempted  the 
topic  and  forgotten  it,  or  perhaps  from  having  failed  to  produce 
the  desired  effect.  Now,  in  Demosthenes  this  is  never  the  case  ; 
the  early  allusions  to  the  subject  of  the  repetition  are  always  per- 
fect in  themselves,  and  would  sufficiently  have  enforced  the  topic 
had  they  stood  alone.  But  now  matter  afterward  handled  gave 
the  topic  new  force  and  fresh  illustration  by  presenting  the  point 
in  a  new  light.**— Hkbvby. 

(6)  The  Conclusion  (or  Peroration,  as  it  is  com- 


-  -'  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

iiionlj  called)  is  so  important  that  even  the  extempore 
speaker  is  advised  to  be  sure  of  very  nearly  the  language 
he  will  use.  It  is  the  part  that  remains  in  the  hearers' 
minds,  and  that  more  than  any  other  affords  the  basis  for 
estimate  of  the  entire  address.  Many  a  noble  speech  has 
been  spoiled  because  the  orator  groped  about  for  a  place 
to  stop,  and  failed  to  find  it  before  he  had  disappointed 
and  discomfited  his  hearers. 

It  is  observed  by  all  travellers,  who  have  visited  the  Alps  or 
other  stupendous  mountains,  that  they  form  a  very  inadequate 
notion  of  the  vastness  of  the  greater  ones  till  they  ascend  some  ot 
the  less  elevated  (which  are  yet  huge  mountains),  and  thence  view 
the  others  still  towering  above  them.  And  the  mind,  no  less  than 
the  eye,  cannot  so  well  take  in  and  do  justice  to  any  vast  object  at 
a  single  glance  as  by  several  successive  approaches  and  repeated 
comiiarisons.  Thus,  in  the  well-known  climax  of  Cicero,  in  the 
oration  against  Verres,  shocked  as  the  Romans  were  likely  to  be 
at  the  bare  mention  of  the  crucifixion  of  one  of  their  citizens,  the 
successive  steps  by  which  he  brings  them  to  the  contemplation  of 
such  an  event  were  calculated  to  work  up  their  feelings  to  a  much 
higher  pitch:  "It  is  an  outrage  to  bind  a  Roman  citizen;  to 
scourge  him  is  an  atrocious  crime ;  to  put  him  to  death  is  almost 
parricide ;  but  to  crucify  him — what  shall  I  call  it  ?  " 

So  in  the  ideal  address,  as  the  speaker  rises,  the  audi- 
ence look  upon  him  with  indifferent  curiosity;  they  are 
attracted  by  his  introduction,  they  are  interested  in  his 
narration,  impressed  by  liis  argument,  and,  finally,  roused 
to  enthusiasm  by  his  conclusion.  A  famous  preacher  said 
wisely  that  if  he  failed  to  make  the  last  part  of  his  address 
more  forcible  than  the  first,  he  would  go  back  and  enfee- 
ble the  first  rather  than  have  the  audience  dampened  by 
an  anti-climax. 

It  may  be  worth  while  here  to  remark  that  it  is  a  common 
fault  of  an  extempore  speaker  to  be  tempted,  by  finding  himself 


Chap.  XXVII.]  THE  CONCLUSION.  533 

listened  to  with  attention  and  approbation,  to  go  on  adding  another 
and  another  sentence  (what  is  called  in  the  homely  language  of 
the  jest  *'  more  last  words")  after  he  had  intended,  and  announced 
his  intention,  to  bring  his  discourse  to  a  close  ;  till  at  length,  the 
audience  becoming  manifestly  weary  and  impatient,  he  is  forced 
to  conclude  in  a  feeble  and  spiritless  manner,  like  a  half- extin- 
guished candle  going  out  in  smoke.  Let  the  speaker  decide  be- 
foiohand  what  shall  be  his  concluding  topic,  and  let  him  premed- 
itate thoroughly  not  only  the  substance  of  it,  but  the  mode  of 
treating  it,  and  all  but  the  very  words ;  and  let  him  resolve  that 
whatever  liberty  he  may  reserve  to  himself  of  expanding  and  con- 
tracting other  parts  of  his  speech,  according  as  he  finds  the  hearers 
more  or  less  interested  (which  is  for  an  extemporary  speaker  natu- 
ral and  proper)  he  will  strictly  adhere  to  his  original  design  in 
respect  of  what  he  has  fixed  on  for  his  conclusion  ;  and  that  when- 
ever he  shall  see  fit  to  arrive  at  that,  nothing  shall  tempt  him 
either  to  expand  it  beyond  what  he  had  determined  on,  or  to  add 
anything  else  beyond  it.  — Whately. 

The  Will  of  the  audience  is  to  be  influenced  in  the 
conclusion.  The  introduction  appeals  to  their  taste,  and 
pleases;  the  argument  appeals  to  their  understanding,  and 
convinces;  the  conclusion  appeals  to  their  passions,  and 
persuades  to  action. 

It  is  worth  remarking,  as  a  curious  fact,  that  men  are  liable  to 
deceive  themselves  as  to  the  degree  of  deference  they  feel  toward 
various  persons.  But  the  case  is  the  same  with  many  other  feel- 
ings also,  such  as  pity,  contempt,  love,  joy,  etc.;  in  respect  to 
which  we  are  apt  to  mistake  the  conviction  that  such  and  such  an 
object  deserves  pity,  contempt,  etc.,  for  the  feeling  itself— which 
often  doee  not  accompany  that  conviction. — Whately. 

We  often  appreciate  the  good,  the  true,  the  noble.  wImm 
they  inspire  no  impulse  to  contact. 

To  say  that  it  is  possible  to  persuade  without  speaking  to  the 
passions  is  but  at  best  a  kind  of  specious  nonsense.  The  coolest 
reasoner  always  in  persuading  addreeseth  himself  to  the  passions 


534  ARGUMENT.  [Part  V. 

some  way  or  other.  This  he  cannot  avoid  doing  if  he  speaks  to 
the  purpose.  To  make  me  believe,  it  is  enough  to  show  me  that 
things  are  so ;  to  make  me  act,  it  is  necessary  to  show  that  the 
action  will  answer  some  end.  That  can  never  be  an  end  to  me 
which  gratifies  no  passion  or  affection  in  my  nature.  You  assure 
me  ''It  is  for  my  honor."  Now  you  solicit  my  pride,  without 
which  I  had  never  been  able  to  understand  the  word.  You  say, 
•*  It  is  for  my  interest.**  Now  yon  bespeak  my  self-love.  **  It  is 
for  the  public  good."  Now  you  rouse  my  patriotism.  **  It  will 
relieve  the  miserable.*'  Now  you  touch  my  pity.  So  far,  there- 
fore, is  it  from  being  an  unfair  method  of  persuasion  to  move  the 
pMUons  that  there  is  no  i>ersuasion  without  moving  them. 

But  if  so  much  depend  on  passion,  where  is  the  scope  for  argu- 
ment ?  Before  I  answer  this  question,  let  it  be  observed  that  in 
order  to  persuade  there  are  two  things  which  must  be  carefully 
studied  by  the  orator.  The  first  is  to  excite  some  desire  or  pas- 
sion in  the  hearers  ;  the  second  is  to  satisfy  their  judgment  that 
there  is  a  connection  between  the  action  to  which  he  would  per- 
suade them  and  the  gratification  of  the  desire  or  passion  which  he 
excites.  This  is  the  analysis  of  persuasion.  The  fonner  is  ef- 
fected by  communicating  lively  and  glowing  ideas  of  the  object ; 
the  latter,  unless  so  cN-ident  of  itself  as  to  supersede  the  necessity, 
by  presenting  the  best  and  most  forcible  arguments  which  the 
nature  of  the  subject  admits.  In  the  one  lies  the  pathetic  ;  in  the 
other  the  argumentative.  These  incorjjorated  together  constitute 
that  vehemence  of  contention  to  which  the  greatest  exploits  of 
eloquence  ought  doubtless  to  be  ascribed. — Campbell. 

Instead  of  exclaiming  as  Demosthenes  ceased,  '*What 
an  orator !  "  his  liearers  would  call  out,  "  Up  !  let  ns  march 
against  Philip." 

The  one  way  to  rouse  the  passion  of  the  audience  is  to 
be  thoroughly  aroused  one's  self.  "  If  you  wish  me  to 
weep,"  says  Horace,  "yon  must  first  yourself  be  deeply 
grieved."  But  Yinet  admirably  remarks  that  Horace 
does  not  say  the  orator  must  shed  tears  in  order  to  inspire 
them.     His  power  is  in  the  emotion  he  feels,  not  in  the 


Chap.  XXVILl  PERSUASION.  535 

expression  of  it ;  and  he  will  affect  his  audience  most  by 
seeming  to  struggle  to  repress  its  manifestation.  Shak- 
spere's  art  is  nowhere  more  perfect  than  where  he  illus- 
trates this  in  the  speech  of  Antony  over  the  corpse  of 
CfEsar. 

It  was  remarked  above  that  if  the  pathetic  exceeds  a  certain 
lueasure,  from  being  very  pleasant  it  becomes  very  painful.  Then 
the  mind  recurs  to  every  expedient,  and  to  disbelief  among  others, 
hy  which  it  may  be  enabled  to  disburden  itself  of  what  distresseth 
it.  And  indeed  whenever  this  recoui-se  is  had  by  any,  it  is  a  sure 
indication  that  with  regard  to  such  the  poet,  orator,  or  historian 
hath  exceeded  the  proper  measure. — Campbell. 

The  proper  course  for  the  orator  to  take  is  to  excite  the  emo- 
tions of  the  hearers  by  means  of  images,  and  not  to  attempt  to 
execute  any  images  in  the  mind  of  the  hearer  by  means  of  his 
emotions.  For  while  some  of  the  passions  and  sentiments  api>ear 
to  have  the  power  to  execute  images  in  the  mind  indei)endently  of 
volition  and  the  judgment,  yet  it  should  be  considered  that  as  the 
orator  is  necessitated  to  address  the  mind  of  the  hearer  in  accord- 
ance with  its  common  and  noimal  operations,  he  cannot  count 
uiK)n  this  reflex  art,  which  the  hearer  may  indeed  practise  upon  his 
own  imagination,  but  which  the  orator  cannot  reasonably  expect 
to  practise  upon  it  except  incidentally  and  casually,  and  therefore 
with  no  ttniform  results. — Hebvey. 

Sflrmons  woold  probably  hmre  more  efleot  if  instead  of  bring,  m  they  frer|tiently 
•ra,  dtawUy  hoctetocy,  they  w«n  mora  in  •  didactie  fonn ;  oooaptod  chiefly  in  explain- 
ing mam  tnuuactioo  related,  or  doctrine  laid  down  in  acriptore.  The  generality  of 
beam*  ara  too  mooh  fkmiliarlied  to  direct  exhortation  to  feel  it  adequately  ;  if  they  are 
led  tothe  nme  point  obUqoaly  as  it  were,  and  induced  to  dweU  with  intermit  for  a  con- 
riderable  time  on  aoma  point  doeely  though  incidentaUy  connected  with  the  moat  awful 
and  important  tmtha,  a  very  slight  application  to  themselves  might  make  a  greater  im- 
presaioB  than  the  moat  vehement  appeal  at  the  outset.  Often,  indeed,  they  woold  them- 
srtTca  maka  this  appttoMlon  nnooasofamsly,  and  if  on  any  this  prooednra  made  no  impna* 
aioa,HoaBhanUy  ha  axpaoiad  that  anything  •!«>  woold.  To  use  a  homaly  illnatratlon,  a 
moderate  charge  of  powder  will  have  mora  effieot  in  splitting  a  rock,  if  we  begin  by  deep 
boring,  and  intrododng  the  charge  into  the  rtrj  heart  of  it,  than  tan  timea  the  qnanti^ 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


(division  of  the  argumentative  oration,  p.  519. 

rruminence  of  the  partition,  ]>.  ■")1'.*. 
ImporUnce  of  aualysis,  p.  522. 
1.   The  itUrodvrtinri ,  jt.  522. 
Sometiiu  I,  p.  523. 

Concilia:  ,       J4. 

3.  Thi' ]tn>i">.'<'(' 

4.  T/ic  (iryuihi  /  ' 

Frankness,  p.  5^7. 
Objections,  p.  527. 
Pftjudice,  p.  528. 
Ridicule,  p.  529. 
Good  temper,  p.  529. 
Unity,  p.  530. 
:.  The  condiman,  p.  531. 

Influencing  the  will,  p.  533. 


CHAPTEK  XXYTII. 

EXTEMPORANEOUS  SPEAKING. 

Methods  of  Preparation  for  public  speaking  may 
be  grouped  under  four  lieads. 

(1)  Writ'mg  out  tlie  discourse,  and  then  Reading  it. 
Only  by  courtesy  can  this  be  called  speaking  at  all.  Its 
Advantages  are : 

(a)  It  in8U7'es  study. 

A  man  may  talk  at  random,  and  never  find  it  out ;  bnt  if  he 
write  his  address  he  must  have  some  connection  of  thonght,  and 
be  led  to  some  consideration. 

(b)  It  secures  covvplete  treaiment. 

The  man  finds  it  most  difficult  to  say  what  he  wants  to,  who  is 
overflowing  with  ideas  that  ho  has  not  thoroughly  systematizeil. 
He  that  knows  nothing  of  a  subject  can  look  up  a  few  ideas  and 
deliver  them  with  much  more  efiect  than  he  that  knows  a  hun- 
dred times  as  much  of  it,  but  is  overwhelmed  by  the  torrent  of 
thoughts  that  come  surging  for  utterance.  In  writing  his  address 
the  latter  has  opiJortunity  to  measure  his  words  by  the  time  at 
his  disposal,  and  to  jwrtion  out  his  moments  according  to  the  rela- 
tive importance  of  each  subdivision. 

Sir  Boyle  Roche,  whose  speeches  have  so  long  been  a  thesaunis 
to  rhetorical  writers  of  illustrations  of  rhetorical  blunders,  was  not 
void  of  thought,  even  in  the  well-known  instance  of  liis  inquiry, 
"Wliat  has  posterity  done  for  us?"  He  had  a  tliought  which 
was  entirely  logical  to  his  purpose.  It  was  tliat  of  the  reasonable- 
ness of  reciprocity  of  service.     Probably  he  was  driven  into  a 


538  EXTEMPORANEOUS   SPEAKING.  [Part  V. 

vacuity  of  thought  by  the  burst  of  laughter  wliich  followed,  and 
which  he  met  by  explaining,  *•  By  posterity,  sir,  I  do  not  mean 
our  ancestors,  but  those  who  are  to  come  immediately  after." 
One  of  the  aims  of  conquest  in  the  mastery  of  extemporaneous 
speech  is  that  of  beating  back  the  rush  and  trampling  of  thoughts 
which  huddle  themselves  into  these  bovine  forms  of  style. — 
Phelps. 

Thomas  Bradley  of  the  Sydney  Legislative  Council  found  fault 
with  the  newspaper  reporters  on  the  ground  that  they  did  not  give 
the  speeches  accurately.  Therefore  they  took  gi-eat  pains  to  re- 
port his  remarks  verbatim.     The  following  is  the  passage : 

The  reporters— oaght  not  to— the  rciKNien  ought  not  to  Ik>  tho  ones  to  judge  of  what 
is  important— not  to  wiy  what  should  be  k-ft  oot— but— the  incmlK-r  «»n  only  judge  of 
what  is  important.  As  I—as  mj  speeches — as  the  reportK— an  uhat  I  say  Ik  reported 
aometiroes,  no  one — nobody  can  nnderatand  from  the  report»— what  it  is— what  I  mean. 

Even  Daniel  Webster  was  known  to  fail  when  he  had  insuf- 
ficient time  for  preparation,  though  when  he  delivered  the  follow- 
ing speech  at  Rochester,  he  is  said  to  have  been  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  cup  that  cheers  and  does  inebriate  : 

Men  of  Bocheeter,  I  am  glad  to  Kf)  yon,  and  I  am  ^ad  to  tre  your  noble  city.  Gentle- 
men, I  saw  your  falls,  which,  I  am  told,  are  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.  Gentle- 
men, Rome  had  her  Caesar,  her  Scipio.  and  her  Bnitus.  but  Rome  in  her  proudest  day 
never  had  a  waterfall  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high  !  Gentlemen,  Greece  had  her  D«v 
mosthenes,  her  Pericles,  her  Socrates,  but  Greece  in  her  palmiest  days  never  had  a  water- 
fall a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high  !  Men  of  Rochenter,  go  on  !  No  (leople  ever  lost  their 
who  had  a  waterfall  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high.— Sohklb  dk  Ykbb. 


The  Disadvantages  are: 
{a)  It  is  rigid. 

The  happiest  feature  of  a  speech  is  special  appropriateness  to  the 
time  and  circumstances  (see  page  506).  To  these  the  written  ad- 
dress can  be  only  guessingly  adapted,  and  when  the  guess  goes 
\vTong  (as  when  it  is  made  to  allude  to  the  crowd  of  i>eople  present, 
and  is  delivered  before  a  handful)  it  becomes  ridiculous.  Such  ad- 
dresses have  been  likened  to  a  heavy  piece  of  ordnance  built  into 
the  solid  wall  of  a  fortress.  If  the  enemy's  vessel  happens  to 
come  in  range  it  is  very  effective  ;  but  it  can  hit  only  one  certain 
spot. 

{h)  It  lacks  spontaneity. 


Chap.  XXVIII.]  PREPARATION.  539 

It  is  only  by  the  fresh  feelings  of  the  heart  that  mankind  can 
be  very  powerfully  aflfected.  What  can  be  more  ridiculous  than 
an  orator  delivering  stale  indignation,  and  fervor  of  a  week  old  ; 
taming  over  whole  pages  of  violent  passions,  written  out  in  Ger- 
man text ;  reading  the  tropes  and  apostroj^hes  into  which  he  is 
hurried  by  the  ardor  of  his  mind  ;  and  so  affected  at  a  precon- 
certed line  and  page  that  he  is  unable  to  proceed  any  fiirther. — 
Sidney  Smith. 

An  old  Scotch  lady  was  told  that  her  minister  used  notes,  but 
would  not  believe  it.  Said  one  :  "  Gang  into  the  gallery  and  see." 
She  did  so,  and  saw  the  written  sermon.  After  the  luckless 
preacher  had  concluded  his  reading  on  the  last  page,  he  said, 
"But  I  will  not  enlarge."  The  old  woman  called  out  from  her 
lofty  position,  "Ye  canna,  ye  canua,  for  your  paper's  gien  out." 

Besides  that  the  audience  are  more  sure  that  the  thoughts  they  hear  expressed  ara 
tha  geuaine  emanations  of  the  speaker's  mind  at  the  moment,  their  attention  and  interest 
are  the  more  excited  by  their  sympathy  with  one  whom  they  perceive  to  be  carried  for- 
ward solely  by  his  own  unaided  and  unremitted  efforts,  without  having  any  book  to  refer 
to ;  they  view  him  as  a  Hwimmer  supported  by  his  own  constant  exertions ;  and  in  every 
sooh  oaae,  if  the  feat  be  well  accomplished,  the  surmounting  of  the  difficulty  affords  great 
gratifloatioo,  especially  to  thoec  who  are  conscious  that  they  could  nut  do  the  same. 
And  one  proof  that  part  of  the  pleanurc  conveyed  does  arise  from  thiA  murce  is  that  as 
■pcctatora  of  an  exhibition  of  siipiKMed  unuDual  skill  in  swimming  would  instantly  with- 
draw HMMt  at  their  interest  and  admiration  if  they  perceived  that  the  performer  was  aup- 
ported  by  oorka,  or  the  like,  m>  would  the  feelings  alter  of  the  hearern  of  a  supposed  ez- 
temporaoeous  diacooroe,  as  soon  as  they  should  perceive  or  even  suspect  that  the  orator 
had  it  written  down  before  him. — Whatklt. 

(c)  The  inspiration  of  the  audience  is  lost. 

The  mental  stimulus  of  a  great  assembly  in  sympathy  with  the 
speaker  is  the  noblest  inspiration  iK)ssible  to  the  intellect.  This 
and  this  alone  makes  possible  the  great  triumphs  of  oratory.  The 
speaker  that  reads  what  he  has  written  may  become  a  finished  es- 
sayist, but  he  will  never  even  conceive  of  the  possibilities  of  ora- 
tory until  he  has  been  lifted  out  of  himself  and  his  previous 
thought  into  the  surge  of  living  thought  that  rushes  from  a  thou- 
sand eager  eyes  he  sees  bent  upon  him. 

A  flnlabad  ocmtian.  ia  dne  proportkms,  prononnoed  by  a  maater  of  tb«  art,  is  no  moiv 
an  •ztcmporaiiMiu  eltort  than  was  •'  t>aradiw  l/»t"  lu  method  and  praparaUon  and 
the  grandloee  ■tyle  of  delivery  are  all  sUuHed.  like  Booth's  ffamUt.  Such  were  the  ora- 
tioneof  Deinortheiiee  and  Otoero.  Snch  wet«  Barkers  I  and  each,  we  may  add,  have  been 
aU  the  fMdly  grmt  onUlone  into  w|uiae  origin  we  can  penetrate.    We  don't  yet  know 


540  BXTEMrORANEOUS  SPEAKING.  [Pabt  V.^ 

how  Qowmnot  Long  imkm  hia  perfect  ponies  of  after  dinner  speeches,  with  all  their 
flowsn  of  rhetoric  safe  in  due  oontrast,  but  some  time,  we  presame,  we  shaU  know. 
Ereratt  followed  the  daasio  models ;  and  from  the  balauoed  structure  of  his  sentenoes 
down  to  the  varying  tone*  of  his  Toioe,  and  to  the  pathetic  use  of  a  handkerchief  as  fine 
as  a  cloud,  he  was  letter  perfect.  Webster's  preparation  was  a  kind  of  prolonged  brood- 
ing over  a  subject.  Ue  maaterod  it  by  slow  ougitation,  turning  it  in  mind  in  all  interior 
light^  while  phrases  slowly  formed  the^laelTe^  and  poinU  were  fixed,  and  iUuRtrations 
crystallixed,  and  hints  of  grand  images  and  apostrophes  came  like  dim  q>irits  at  his  call. 
The  oration  was  potentially  done  without  putting  pen  to  paper.  Mr.  Everett  relates  that 
the  night  before  Webster  reified  to  Hayne,  he  felt  anxious  for  his  friend's  success,  and 
called  upon  him  to  ask  about  his  preparation.  Mr.  Webster  exhUrited  his  notes ;  they 
were  dpon  a  piaoe  of  paper  the  sise  of  his  palm.  The  effect  Is  a  matter  of  history.  The 
tpoaoh  was  well  reported  for  the  yatiunal  fntelH^me$r,  but  whoever  will  look  at  that 
report  and  compare  it  with  the  oration  as  it  stands  in  Mr.  Webeter^s  works,  will  tee  with 
what  care,  and  with  what  maafearlj  literaiy  art,  the  great  orator  elaborated  and  |x>liHhed 
hia  grand  sentences.  Webster's  speeches  grew  ;  they  were  not  made.  Wcudull  Phillips 
cannot  be  wholly  indifferent  to  Uterary  art ;  hot  he  values  it  as  a  means,  and  not  as  an 
end.  One  can  see  that  he  ocosiders  the  nice  refinements  of  style  as  filigree  work,  and  a 
pntfessed  phrasenKmger  as  a  very  unimportant  person.  With  him  language  is  a  means 
of  establishing  truth  and  carrying  convicti<m.  We  cannot  speak  by  authority,  but  we 
presume  that,  though  he  makes  some  pn>paration,  the  trenchant  phrases  and  the  brilliant 
illustrations  come  in  their  matured  form  at  the  moment  they  are  uttered.  It  is  a  cairious 
coincidence  that  the  great  friend  of  the  Irish  race  is  so  characteristically  Irish  in  temper 
and  genius.  The  Irish  naturally  admire  him,  partly  because  of  his  old  friendship  for 
O'Connell,  but  more,  we  think,  because  his  fervid  eloquence  touches  the  ready  sources  of 
sympathy,  and  produces  the  rapid  and  resistless  emotions  in  which  this  imaginative  race 
delighU.  When  he  is  aroused,  metaphors  and  tropes  are  the  spontaneous  products  of  his 
mind,  and  the  torrent  of  his  impassioned  words  reminds  ns  of  the  wonderful  eloquence 
that  distinguished  the  last  of  the  Irish  parliaments.— Bo«(<m  Saturday  GoMetU. 

(2)  Writing  out  the  Discourse,  and  then  Committi't^  it 
to  Memory. 

Here  tlie  speaker  has  more  command  of  gesture,  and  can  simu- 
late spontaneity.  But  the  labor  of  committal  is  extreme  and  un- 
necessary, the  attention  is  distracted  by  the  effort  of  recalling  and 
by  nervousness  lest  the  memory  should  fail,  and  finally  there  is  an 
unreality  and  affectation  about  it — a  seeming  instead  of  a  reality — 
that  is  fatal  to  the  best  effort. 

(3)  Appearing  without  any  Written  Preparation. 

Here  there  is  great  temptation  to  slight  preparation,  and  great 
danger  of  losing  control  of  the  subject.  Only  accomplished 
speakers  should  venture  to  take  this  risk,  nor  should  they  make 
the  venture  except  before  a  familiar  audience  and  on  a  familiar 
theme. 


CUAI-.  XXVIII.]  WRITTEN  ANALYSia  'H 

(4)  Aiudy:.'in(j  the  Subject  uiuler  Writie7i  Heads. 

Pull  but  clear  and  brief  notes  are  undoubtedly  the  best  prepa- 
ration for  public  speaking.  Here  the  treatment  is  determined, 
the  time  is  properly  apportioned,  the  thread  of  the  di8coui*Me  may 
at  any  time  be  recovered,  and  the  confidence  the  orator  feels  that 
he  will  not  be  caught  at  a  loss  leaves  him  at  liberty  to  cast  liimself 
unreservedly  into  the  most  vivid  expression  ho  can  command. 

Written  Analysis : 

In  order  to  produce  or  arrange  it  well,  you  must  take  your  pen 
in  hand.  Writing  is  a  whetstone,  or  flattening  engine,  which 
wonderfully  stretches  ideas,  and  brings  out  all  their  malleableness 
and  ductility. 

On  some  unforeseen  occasion  you  may,  without  doubt,  after  a 
few  moments  of  reflection,  array  suddenly  the  jjlan  of  your  dis- 
course, and  speak  appropriately  and  eloquently.  This  presup- 
ix)ses,  in  other  respects,  that  you  are  well  versed  in  your  subject, 
and  that  you  have  in  your  understanding  chains  of  thought  formed 
by  previous  meditations  ;  for  it  is  imiK)ssible  to  extemporize  the 
thoughts,  at  least  during  the  whole  of  a  discourse. 

But  if  you  have  time  for  preparation,  never  undertake  to  speak 
without  having  put  on  jmper  the  fmme  of  what  you  have  to  say, 
the  links  of  your  ideas  ;  and  this  for  two  reasons :— the  first  and 
weightiest  is,  that  you  thus  possess  your  subject  better,  and  ac- 
cordingly you  speak  more  closely  and  with  less  risk  of  digressions. 
The  second  is,  that  when  you  write  down  a  thought  you  analyze 
it.  Tlie  division  of  the  subject  becomes  clear,  becomes  determi- 
nate, and  acrowd  of  things  which  were  not  before  ]>or<«Mv»Ml  ]>io- 
sent  themselves  under  the  pen. 

Si^eaking  is  thinking  aloud,  but  it  is  more  ;  it  is  thinking  with 
method  and  more  distinctly,  so  that  in  uttering  your  idea  you  not 
only  make  others  understand  it,  but  you  understand  it  better 
yoorBelf  while  spreading  it  out  before  your  own  eyes  and  unfold- 
ing it  by  word". 

Writing  adds  more  still  to  R)>eech,  giving  it  more  precision, 
more  fixity,  more  strictness ;  and  by  being  forced  more  closely  to 
examine  what  you  wish  to  write  down  you  extract  hidden  relations. 


542  EXTEMPORANEOUS  SPEAKING.  (Part  V. 

yon  reach  greater  depths,  wherein  may  be  disclosed  rich  veins  or 
abundant  lodcH. 

We  are  able  to  declare  that  one  is  never  fully  conscious  of  all 
that  is  in  one's  ov^-n  thought,  except  after  having  written  it  out. 
So  long  as  it  remains  shut  up  in  the  inside  of  the  mind,  it  pre- 
serves a  certain  haziness  ;  one  does  not  see  it  completely  unfolded, 
and  one  cannot  consider  it  on  all  sides,  in  each  of  its  facets,  in 
each  of  its  bearings. 

Again,  while  it  merely  flies  through  the  air  in  words,  it  retains 
something  vague,  mobile,  and  indefinite.  Its  outlines  are  loosely 
drawn,  its  shape  is  uncertain,  the  expression  of  it  is  more  or  less 
precarious,  an^  there  is  always  something  to  be  added  or  with- 
drawn. It  is  never  more  than  a  sketch.  Style  only  gives  to 
thought  its  just  expression,  its  finished  form,  and  perfect  mani- 
festation. — Bautain. 

Bonapai'te  used  to  say  that  he  never  felt  acquitted,  after  an  ac- 
tion had  terminated,  if  he  was  sensible  of  having  omitted  any  re- 
source of  defence  which  was  clearly  within  his  reach. 

Preparation  for  Speaking. — Having  often  heard  that  the  longer 
a  member  sits  in  the  House  of  C!ommons  without  8i)eaking,  the 
harder  it  is  for  him  to  make  a  beginning,  I  determined  to  lose  no 
time  in  delivering  my  maiden  speech.  It  had  not  until  last  election 
been  my  intention  to  enter  Parliament,  so  that  I  had  never  **  got 
up  "  any  political  subjects.  It  was  therefore  necessary,  before  any 
speech  could  even  be  planned,  tliat  I  should  take  a  subject,  and 
study  so  as  to  form  definite  opinions  upon  it.     The  following  plan 

I  adopted.     Ha\'ing  chosen  for  my  topic,  I  read  all  the 

debates  and  pamphlets  which  could  throw  any  light  upon  it,  and 
wrote  very  numerous  notes  while  reading.  "When  this  part  of  the 
labor  was  accomplished,  I  reviewed  the  notes,  and  arranged  them 
under  heads  in  an  order  which  had  suggested  itself  to  my  mind. 
I  then  cast  out  all  that  appeared  to  be  irrelevant,  and  whatever  did 
not  make  straight  for  the  point  at  which  I  \vished  to  aim. 

To  make  a  short  schedule  of  the  various  heads,  together  with 
memoi-anda  of  some  embellishments  and  illustrations,  was  my  next 
care.  And  when  this  schedule  was  clearly  imprinted  on  my  mind, 
I  frequently  spoke  the  si^eech  over  to  myself  whilst  out  walking, 
in  order  to  accustom  myself  to  various  modes  of  expression.    Then 


Chap.  XXVIII.]  DIFFICULTIES.  543 

I  wrote  out  the  whole  speech,  bestowing  particular  care  upon  the 
exordium  and  on  the  j)eromtion.  And  lastly  I  learned  these  two 
partH  by  heart,  but  never  looked  again  at  the  rest  of  the  speech. 
The  same  plan,  leaving  much  more  to  the  chances  of  the  critical 
moment,  I  have  found  to  answer  on  less  important  occasions. — 
LoBD ,  quoted  by  H.iLCOMB£. 

HE  CANNOT  MAKE  A  SPEECH. 

A  Texas  correspondent  is  in  great  trouble  of  mind  because  he 
finds  himself  unable  to  make  speeches  which  satisfy  his  own  criti- 
cal taste  in  oratory.  There  are  so  many  men  who  have  experienced 
difficulties  like  those  he  describes,  and  who  have  stlflfered  from  the 
same  sort  of  mortification  at  their  failure  to  make  a  ci*editable  ex- 
hibition of  themselves  when  they  undertook  to  address  an  audienc(\ 
that  it  is  worth  while  to  carefully  consider  the  questions  wliioli  !)•> 
propounds  in  the  following  letter : 

Sometimes,  and  that  very  fre<iuently  of  late,  I  am  called  on  to  make  a  speech.  Let 
there  be  a  Sabbath-school  celebration,  a  prayer-meeting,  or  public  aasefiibly  convened  in 
the  neighborhood,  or  any  other  similar  gutherinK,  where  Rpeaking  is  in  onlrr.  and  juHt  as 
mmif  as  I  am  on  hand  I  am  called  on  for  a  npeech.  Pleane  do  not  coiistnte  thlf  as  a 
boast.  It  in  not  that  at  all ;  but  I  wixh  to  state  my  ca«e  ao  plainly  as  poeidble.  Weil,  it 
make*  no  difference  whether  I  am  pre|iared  or  unpreparwl  on  thcue  oocaHionn,  I  find  that 
I  hare  one  great  difflculty  with  which  to  contend,  an-l  that  is  this :  It  seems  at  times  to 
ba  IwpowlMe  for  me  to  ocdleci  and  conoentrate  my  ideas.  This  always  throws  me  into  a 
state  of  ooofosion,  and  it  sometimes  seems,  to  use  a  vulgar  phrase,  an  if  I  could  not  see 
an  inch  before  my  nose. 

This  mortifies  me  no  little,  and  several  times,  after  an  effort,  I  have  carefully  re- 
viewed, as  beat  I  coald.  what  I  had  said,  and  it  would  seem  as  if  a  ten-year-oid  boy  could 
have  beaten  me  two  to  one.  Sometimes  I  am  ini-Iin<.>4l  u>  lay  this  to  a  defloient  education, 
for  I  never  went  to  school  but  very  little  in  life ;  but  then  I  fre()uently  hear  men  make  rral 
logical  speeches  who  I  know  have  no  better  cductition  than  myself— hence  my  theory 
fails.  My  flrst  oratorical  effort  was  at  a  school  exhibition  eight  yrars  atro,  and  I  look 
upon  It  as  mj  best.  From  that  time  until  now  I  have  had  to  do  more  or  leno  speaking ; 
bat  for  the  last  year  or  two  the  evil  of  which  I  B(M>ak  is  growing  un  me.  I  find  of  late 
that  for  eight  or  ten  minutes  I  can  do  tolerably  well,  bnt  if  I  underuke  anything  like  a 
praotSeal  or  logleal  spssch,  my  ideas  beoome  all  oonfnaed,  and  I  have  to  quit. 

I  am  DOW  thirty^llve  years  of  ago,  and  in  full  possession  of  all  my  faculties.  If  yon 
can  advise  ms  bow  to  remedy  the  above  evil  I  will  be  placed  under  many  obligations  to 
yon  for  your  kind  advios ;  not  that  I  ever  expect  to  try  to  make  a  living  by  public  speak- 
ing, bat  I  would  like  very  mooh  to  be  qnaliOed  to  speak  In  a  calm,  dignified  mannar 
whenever  cnUcd  oo  to  do  so.  RsADia. 

The  trouble  with  our  Texas  friend  is  probably  that  he  tries  to 
make  too  great  a  speeoh.    His  first  attempt  at  oratory  was  so  sue- 


544  EXTEMPORANEOUS   SPEAKING.  [Pabt  V 

cessfol  that  he  dreamed  of  becoming  a  Demosthenes  or  a  Cicero, 
and,  instead  of  keeping  np  the  simple,  off-hand  manner  he  uncon- 
sciously adopted  on  that  occasion,  he  lias  bt^en  thinking  about 
himself  and  whether  he  was  making  a  creditable  apj^earance  in  his 
subsequent  speeches.  He  has  been  too  anxious  about  the  effect 
he  was  producing  to  keep  his  ideas  together.  He  could  not  think 
about  himself,  about  what  his  audience  were  thinking  of  him,  and 
about  his  subject,  all  at  the  same  time.  Of  course  his  ideas  be- 
came confused  under  such  circumstances.  Even  in  an  ordinary 
conversation  between  two  people,  where  the  speaker  is  assisted  by 
the  remarks,  questions,  and  replies  of  his  interlocutor,  nobody  can 
keep  up  the  interest  if  he  makes  his  self -consciousness  manifest, 
and  betrays  too  much  anxiety  to  create  a  good  impression.  To  be 
a  really  entertaining  talker,  in  public  or  private,  it  is  necessary 
that  the  speaker  should  forget  himself,  and  discourse  spontaneously 
after  he  has  once  secured  the  sympathy  of  his  hearers. 

TJsually  when  men  get  on  their  feet  to  talk  to  a  crowd,  they  as- 
sume an  unnatural  manner,  and  try  to  put  things  after  a  fashion 
foreign  to  them,  but  which  they  regard  as  the  appropriate  one  for 
an  orator.  They  are  in  a  frame  of  mind  which  dis}x>ses  them  to 
embarrassment,  and  that  destroys  their  ability  to  speak  well. 
They  can  no  more  discourse  with  force  and  grace  than  a  bashful 
boy  who  is  conscious  of  his  dress  can  make  himself  entertaining 
in  company. 

But  our  Texas  friend  need  not  conclude  that  he  is  necessarily  a 
fool  because  he  cannot  make  a  brilliant  off-hand  speech,  or  one 
which  would  bear  reporting.  The  men  who  can  do  that  are  very 
few.  At  no  period  are  there  many  first-rate  extemporaneous  ora- 
tors, and  unless  he  has  a  natural  gift  that  way,  it  is  hardly  worth 
his  while  to  undertake  to  become  one.  He  can,  however,  by  practice, 
learn  to  command  his  thoughts  while  he  is  on  his  feet,  and  succeed 
in  overcoming  his  embarrassment  in  the  presence  of  an  audience. 
Then,  if  he  has  anything  to  say  in  public,  he  can  say  it  simply 
and  clearly,  and,  if  he  is  really  in  earnest,  with  a  force  and  direct- 
ness which  will  make  his  hearers  forget  the  mere  manner  of  his 
oratory. 

Our  advice  to  him,  therefore,  is  never  to  set  out  to  make  a 
speech  unless  he  has  some  important  points  to  make ;  something 


Chat.  XXVI II.]  DIFFICULTIES.  545 

to  say  which  will  be  worth  listening  to,  no  matter  how  he  may  say 
it.  And,  above  all  things,  let  him  never  try  to  interest  other  peo- 
ple in  things  in  which  he  has  no  real  interest  himself.  Nor  should 
he  expect  his  thoughts  to  come  to  him  without  preparation.  He 
must  discoui-se  of  matters  of  which  he  knows,  and  about  which  he 
has  reflected,  if  he  expects  to  engage  the  attention  of  intelligent 
men.  It  is  a  good  rule,  in  public  and  in  private,  never  to  under- 
take the  office  of  teacher,  adviser,  admonisher,  jester,  or  satirist, 
unless  you  have  some  good  reason  to  suppose  you  are  fitted  for  the 
bnsiiiefls.— ^(no  York  Sun, 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Extemporaneous  Speaking. 
Methods  of  preparation,  p.  537. 

1.    WritiiKj  out  tlif  diMyjurse  and  t/ien  reading  »Y,  p.  637. 
Adv  antages : 

a.  It  insures  study,  p.  537. 

b.  It  secures  complete  treatment,  p.  537. 
Disadvantages : 

a.  It  is  rigid,  p.  538. 

b.  It  lacks  sj>ontan«*ity,  p.  538. 

c.  The  inspiration  of  the  audience  is  lost,  p.  539. 

3.  Writing  out  the  dincourse  and  thtn  committing  it  to  memory ,  p.  540 
8.  Appearing  irit/tont  any  written  prcparatujn,  p,  540. 

4.  Amiff/zint/  iln-  mbjeet  unde^r  irritlen  hemUy  p.  541. 
Written  analysis,  p.  541. 

HE  CANNOT  MAKE   A  SPEECH,  p.  543. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  VOICE. 

Demosthenes  had  three  particalar  defects :  (1)  weakness  of  the  Toioe,  which  he 
strengthened  by  declaiming  on  the  sea-shore,  amid  the  roar  of  waters ;  (2)  shortness  of 
breath,  which  he  remedied  by  reiK'alin);  his  unitioiis  as  he  walke<l  up  hill;  and  (3)  a 
thick,  mumbling  way  of  8|)eaking,  which  he  overcame  by  readmg  and  reciting  with  peb- 
bles in  his  month. 

The  Voice  is  an  element  of  oratorical  power  that  no 
speaker  can  afford  to  neglect.  Articulation  and  Pronun- 
ciation have  already  been  discussed  as  elements  of  Con- 
versation (see  page  151).  ()ratoi*y  requires,  further,  that 
the  voice  be  strong,  and  its  ends  are  greatly  promoted  if 
the  voice  is  pleasing. 

Strength  of  Voice  is  necessary,  that  all  which  is 
said  may  bo  heard,  and  that  the  effort  of  listening  may 
not  iKJcupy  the  attention  of  the  listenei*,  and  thus  distract 
it  from  the  thought  conveyed.  Porter  names  these  incon- 
veniences of  a  feeble  voice : 

Laborious  listening  excites  impatience  in  a  hearer  that  often 
amounts  to  vexation.     It  gives  pain  : 

(a)  By  sympathy,  as  the  listener  shares  the  fatigue  of  the 
speaker. 

(h)  By  mental  labor,  in  which  the  invention  and  industry  of  the 
heareir  are  kept  on  the  stretch  to  make  out  by  construction  the 
sense  of  that  which  wm  uttered  so  imperfectly  as  to  reach  his  ear 
only  in  disjointed  parts. 

Of  Oarrick  it  is  said  thikt  the  habit  of  speaktae  gave  to  hU  ntteranoe  an 
(tetaltlM4MBl«ieMMi4i»rt«o(  ttmminm  mnnm  Iris  wn^at  h»j  wm 


548  THE  VOICE.  [Part  V 

ble  to  Urn  thonaand  pw^le.  It  Is  atatod  that  whan  WbiteOeld  preached  in  the  open  air  at 
Philadelphia,  he  was  heard  with  totoraUa  diatinctn—  by  persona  acroM  the  Delaware, 
three-fourths  of  a  mile  awi^. 


ACQUmEMBNT  OP  A  GOOD  VOICE. 

The  Physiology  of  the  voice  reveals  remarkable 
complexity  of  construction. 

In  the  larynx  itself  are  eight  mnscles  more  immediately  con- 
trolling the  tension  of  the  vocal  membranes.  The  tongue  and 
palate  contain  abont  twenty  more ;  the  lips  and  cavity  of  the 
mouth  comprise  ten  others.  All  these,  to  the  number  of  thiiiy- 
eight  or  forty,  are  employed  directly  in  the  articulate  uttei-ance  of 
a  sentence.  When  we  add  to  these  the  muscles  of  the  thorax, 
employed  indirectly  in  regulating  the  stream  of  air,  and  advert, 
lastly,  to  the  various  other  accessory  muscles  of  the  extremities  or 
elsewhere,  without  some  action  of  which  it  is  difficult  if  not  im- 
possible to  speak  with  any  fluency,  we  have  reached  a  point  of 
complication  hardly  paralleled  by  any  other  of  our  daily  functions. 
— Halcombe. 

The  lungs  are  the  soliciting  agent,  the  larynx  is  the  vibrative 
agent,  the  mouth  is  the  reflective  agent.  These  must  act  in  uni- 
son or  there  is  no  result.  The  larynx  might  be  called  the  mouth 
of  the  instiiiment,  the  inside  of  the  mouth  the  pavilion,  the  lungs 
the  artist.  In  a  violin  tlie  larynx  would  be  the  string,  the  lungs 
the  bow,  the  mouth  the  instrument  itself. — Plumptre. 

Gordon  Holmes  thus  classifies  the  organs  of  speech  : 

{a)  Organs  which  combine  their  action  to  generate  sound. 

i.  The  air-chamber  commanding  the  motor-element.  The  chest- 
walls  with  their  proper  muscles  ;  the  lungs  ;  the  bronchial  tubes  ; 
and  the  trachea,  or  windpipe. 

ii.  The  larynx,  containing  the  vibrating  element.  The  laryn- 
geal cartilages  sustaining  the  vocal  reeds,  and  the  intrinsic  and 
extrinsic  muscles  acting  on  them. 

{b)  Organs  which  merely  modify  sound. 

i.  The  resonance  apparatus,  or  vocal  tube.     The  ventricles  and 


Chap.  XXIX.  ]  READING  ALOUD.  549 

vestibnle  of  the  larynx,  the  pharynx,  mouth,  and  nose  with  its 
accassory  cavities.  Also,  certain  movable  parts  of  the  boun- 
daries of  the  vocal  tube,  viz.,  the  epiglottis,  soft  palate,  and  lower 
jaw. 

ii.  The  articulating  instrument.  The  tongue,  lips,  soft  palate, 
teeth,  and  lower  jaw. 

The  Tocat  apparatus  reiiembles  the  optic  and  anric  apparattiff,  differing  from  them  \n 
oat  6Mential  point ;  i.e.,  sight  and  hearing  are  involuntary.  No  Booner  are  our  eye*  open 
and  there  in  light,  or  our  earn  open  and  there  i«  a  noine,  than  we  aee  and  hear,  whether 
we  wish  to  do  no  or  not.  The  voice,  on  the  contrary,  is  under  the  control  of  the  will ;  mnn 
speaks  only  when  he  chooses. 

There  is  a  fica>nd  difference ;  we  cannot  see  or  hear  more  or  lean  at  pieasnre,  except 
by  intorpoeing  some  veil  or  obstacle  between  the  external  world  and  ourselves.  But  not 
80  with  the  voice ;  we  speak  fast  or  slow,  loud  or  low  ;  wc  regulate  the  measure  of  vooal 
action  as  well  as  the  action  itself. 

Hence,  the  natural  inference  is  that  we  cannot  be  taught  to  hear  or  see  (I  refer  to 
mere  material  action ),  and  that  consequently  there  in  no  art  of  seeing  or  hearing  ;  while 
we  may  learn  to  talk,  language  being  susceptible  to  changes  resulting  from  the  will. 

One  word  will  sufBce  to  oxpluin  this  difference. 

The  Tocal  apparatus  is  not  only  an  cgyparaiug,  it  is  an  Hutrument,  like  a  piano.  Now 
what  is  the  characteristic  feature  of  the  piano  ?  The  key- board  is  composed  of  from  six 
and  a  half  to  seven  octaves,  divided  into  three  classes  of  notes — upper,  lower,  and  middle 
— whoae  tones  correspond  to  strings  of  variouH  sizcK.  The  voice  has  ltd  key-board  also, 
divided  into  two  octares  instead  of  sefven,  but  having  its  three  species  of  notes  like  the 
piano,  and  its  chords  of  differing  Hize ;  and  we  can  never  play  upon  the  voice  properly 
without  study,  any  more  than  we  can  on  the  piano. 

Let  me  go  even  farther.  On  leaving  the  hands  of  a  good  maker,  the  piano  is  a  com- 
plete and  perfect  inHtniment,  the  sonnd  issuing  from  it  as  musical  as  it  is  harmonious, 
when  called  forth  by  an  artist's  fingers.  But  the  little  piano  given  us  at  birth  seldom 
reaches  anch  perfection.  Tkera  are  missing  chords,  squeaky  kcj^  false  notes ;  so  that 
before  we  can  become  good  pianists  we  must  turn  makent  and  tuners,  and  set  our  instru- 
menU  in  order.— LkoouvC. 

Reading  Aloud  is  pcrliup8  the  must  iiulispensahle 
exercise  for  strengtlieiiiiig  the  voice.  In  general  this 
should  be  done  standing,  and  with  as  much  voice  as  pro- 
priety will  admit. 

Bead  aloud  resounding  Homer's  strain. 
And  wWA  the  thonder  of  Demosthenes. 
The  oheat,  so  exercised,  impmves  in  stxength. 
And  qolck  Tibratfcms  through  the  bowels  driva 


•^50  I'HE  VOICE.  [Pabt  V. 


PROPER  USE  OF  THE  VOICE. 

Breathing  is  an  art  that  immediately  underlies  good 
speaking.  This  has  been  admirably  shown  by  M.  Legouve, 
as  follows : 

Many  inay  think  tliat  if  there  be  a  natural  and  instinctive  action 
npon  earth  \iith  whicli  art  htm  nothing  to  do  it  is  the  act  of  taking 
breath.  To  breathe  is  to  live,  and  we  breathe  unconsciously  as  we 
hve ;  and  yet  no  one  can  read  well  without  breathing  properly,  and 
no  one  can  breathe  properly  without  study  ;  indeed,  it  is  one  of 
the  rarest  accomplishments  in  a  reader.  Let  me  explain  myself. 
When  we  breathe  in  every-ilay  life,  the  air  enters  and  leaves  the 
lungs  like  a  stream  flowing  continuously,  ioscnsibly,  and  equably. 
But  this  gentle  passage  of  the  air  through  the  throat  does  not  suf- 
fice to  set  the  vocal  chords  in  vibration,  and  they  are  mut«  Uke  the 
keys  of  an  untouched  piano ;  the  air  must  strike  them  a  shaq) 
blow  before  they  will  resound,  as  the  fingers  strike  the  keys  of 
the  piano.  Some  of  my  readers  may  have  heard  an  ^^olian  harp  : 
it  stood  in  a  doorway  or  window ;  if  there  was  no  air  it  was  silent, 
but  let  the  air  be  condensed  into  wind,  and  the  strings  wake  to 
music.  A  similar  phenomenon  occurs  every  time  that  we  sjieak. 
We  condense  and  compress  the  air  contained  in  the  lungs,  force  it 
into  the  throat,  and  this  shock  produces  speech.  But  this  re- 
quires more  air  than  the  ordinary  act  of  breathing,  and  we  can  no 
longer  use  the  simile  of  a  flowing  stream  :  we  must  compare  the 
breath  to  water  gushing  from  a  pump,  spurting  out  faster  and  faster 
at  every  stroke  of  the  handle.  The  usual  conditions  of  breath- 
ing are.  now  set  aside.  The  scant  supply  of  air  stored  away  for 
ordinary  breath-taking  is  insufficient  for  the  energetic  act  of 
speech  ;  a  balance  must  be  struck  between  what  we  have  and 
what  we  should  hare.  We  must  go  to  headquarters,  to  the  atmos- 
phere itself,  and  demand  the  necessaiy  amount  of  air.  This  de- 
mand is  called  inhalation  ;  the  act  of  breathing  being  divided  into 
two  parts — inhalation  and  expiration.  To  inhale  is  to  gain  a  sup- 
ply for  future  need  ;  to  exhale,  to  expend  that  provision. 

Each  of  these  is  an  act  in  itself.  The  art  of  inhalation  consists 
in  drawing  breath  from  the  very  base  of  the  lungs,  from  the  dia- 


Chap.  XXIX]  BREATHING.  551 

phragm ;  for  if  wo  breathe  from  the  upi)er  part  of  the  hings  only, 
we  obtain  foo  small  a  supply  of  air,  which  is  soon  exhausted,  and 
if  we  have  a  lengthy  passage  to  read  we  are  in  the  condition  of  a 
traveller  in  the  desert  who  starts  with  his  water-skins  but  half  full 
— breath  fails  us ;  we  ai*e  obliged  to  pause  and  take  in  a  fresh 
stock,  which  is  fatiguing  both  to  oureelves  and  to  othei-s,  as  we 
shall  presently  see.  The  first  duty  of  tlie  reader  who  is  to  fill  a 
long  programme  is  to  take  a  deep  breath  at  the  start,  to  be  sure 
that  his  lungs  are  well  furnished.  Then  comes  the  second  and 
most  difficult  part — expenditure  of  this  breath.  A  bad  reader 
does  not  take  breath  often  enough,  and  si^nds  it  too  ficely  ;  ho 
throws  this  precious  treasure  out  of  the  window,  as  it  were,  squan- 
dering it  as  a  s}>endthrift  his  gold.  The  result  is  that  the  speaker, 
reader,  actor,  or  singer,  as  the  case  may  be,  is  continually  at  the 
pura{),  giving  sudden  gasps,  which  are  most  disagreeable  to  his 
audience. 

An  accomplUhed  singer  of  my  aoqaaintance  bad  thin  failing ;  he  waa  conatantljr  Uk* 
ing  breath,  and  the  belloWH-likc  soand  mingled  with  bix  ringing  wa8  unendurable.  He 
finally  perceived  and  corrected  hia  mlRtako,  proving  that  it  may  l)c  cun>d.  M.  Stock- 
hatum,  an  eminent  artist,  astonished  all  tlie  Swiss  guides  by  never  looing  breath  in 
dimbing  the  steepest  mountains.  "  My  secret  is  a  simple  one,"*  said  he  ;  "I  nndersuuid 
the  art  of  breathing."  The  great  singer,  Rubini,  was  a  thorough  master  of  the  art.  No 
one  erer  beard  him  breathe.  The  following  anecdote  of  Talma  may  aerve  to  explain  tbii^ 
■remiog  mystery : 

While  a  young  man.  Talma  played  Diderot's  •'  Pire  de  Faraille,"  and  on  reaching  the 
famoos  speech,  '•  Fifteen  hundred  {Kuinds  a  year  and  my  Sophy,"  he  burst  out,  stormed. 
raged,  and  Anally  hurrying  behind  the  scenes  in  a  state  of  complete  exhaustion,  aank 
against  the  wall,  panting  like  an  ox. 

"  Fool !  "  said  Mol^  who  was  standing  by,  "  and  yon  pretend  to  play  tragedy  I 
Come  to  me  to-morrow,  and  Til  teach  yon  how  to  be  impanBioned  withoat  getting  out  of 
brnth.*" 

Talma  went ;  but,  whether  the  master  lacked  patience  or  the  pupil  docility,  the  les- 
son did  him  little  good.  At  that  time  there  was  an  actor  at  the  theatre  named  Dorival ; 
thin,  oglj,  and  waak-voioed,  he  was  noTerthelees  quite  saooes^f  ol  as  a  tragedian.  "  How 
does  that  fellow  manage  ?  "  thought  Talma.  *'  I  am  ten  times  as  strong,  and  yet  I  fa- 
tigne  myMeir  ten  times  mors.  I  mnst  ask  him  his  seoret."  DoriTal  baffled  his  querist  by 
this  bitter-sweet  reply,  which  has  a  smack  of  envy  in  it :  "  O !  yon  are  so  snooeskfol,  M. 
Talma,  that  yon  need  no  leaaons.** 

••  ril  make  you  give  me  one,  though.^  muttervtl  Talma ;  and  the  next  time  that  Do- 
rival pUiyctl  rk/UUlnn  In  "Zaire,"  the  young  man  hid  himself— gness  where!  In  the 
prompter's  \wt.  where  bo  oouM  bear  and  see  withont  being  seen.  There  he  watched  and 
•tudiiHl  Ui  sneh  good  purpose  that,  after  the  great  s|N>ech  in  the  aroond  act,  he  left  his 
IMwt,  exclaiming,  "  Tve  got  it!  rMffrttU!  '  He  saw  that  DorivaTs  whole  art  lay  in 
bis  giMiius  for  brmtbing,  which  led  him  always  to  take  bn>:ith  befon^  his  langs  were 
quite  empty,  and,  to  conceal  this  repeated  inhalation  from  the  public,  ho  strove  to  piaoa 


552  THE  VOICE.  [PaktV. 

it  iMfon  «,  e,  or  o— thafc  ia,  mt  pUcca  where,  hU  moatli  baing  already  open,  he  could 
bcMfche  lightly  luid  imperoeptihiy.  ^ 

We  Me  what  an  immenae  part  the  breath  haa  to  play  in  doootionary  art ;  ita  mlesare 
the  only  iuTMable  onea.  A»  actor  laoMhad  an  a  atotuiy  paaiiage,  carried  away  by  paa- 
aion,  may  foigat  the  lawa  of  pnnotnatkm.  eonfooad  eommaa  and  perloda  and  haten  be.td> 
long  to  the  condoaion  of  hb  phraae ;  bat  he  miut  always  be  master  of  his  breath,  even 
whrn  he  aeema  to  loae  it ;  an  aocompliahed  actor  ia  never  oat  of  breath  except  in  ap- 
pearance and  foreffaci. 

Talma  rednoed  ttiaaa  mka  to  a  atriking  maxim :  '  The  artiat  who  tirea  hiowelf  is  no 
genioa.*' 

I  baar  my  readar'a  objection  :  '*  Thia  art  may  be  Tory  naefnl  to  an  actor;  bnt  wo  are 
talking  of  reading,  not  the  theatre.""  Tea,  bat  the  reader  needs  it  yet  more  ttian  the  ac- 
tor ;  for,  kmg  and  important  aa  the  latter**  part  may  be,  be  always  haa  tim<  a  of  forced 
reat  Ue  ia  ailent  whan  oUiera  upeak,  and  his  very  ge^torea,  added  to  hiff  wi.rds,  help  to 
mske  them  trne  and  toaching.  But  the  reader  often  goes  on  for  an  hour  without  panfie, 
the  immobility  of  hia  body  obliging  him  to  draw  all  bin  p  wcr  from  hin  will  alune.  Con- 
aider,  thorefora,  whether  it  ia  naalaaa  for  him  to  untlerstmnd  the  nuinagemcnt  of  that 
pradoaa  breath  which  alone  can  carry  him  tiiumphantly  and  untired  to  the  end. 

Hare  iaacnrioaa  example  of  the  adenoe  of  economy  applied  to  the  breath.  Take  a 
lighted  candle,  atand  in  front  of  it,  and  aioK  a  ;  tlie  light  will  scarcely  flicker  :  but,  in- 
atead  of  a  aingle  tone,  sing  a  scale,  and  yon  will  see  the  caudle  quiver  at  every  cote.  The 
linger,  Dellr  Sedie,  muH  up  and  down  the  scale  before  a  flame,  and  it  never  wavers.  This 
ia  beoaoae  he  permits  only  the  exact  amount  of  breath  to  escape  which  is  requisite  to 
fbroe  tha  aoand  atraight  forward  ;  and  the  air,  being  thuR  occupied  in  the  emission  of  the 
note,  loaaa  its  qoalit)*  of  wind,  and  is  rednoed  to  its  quality  of  sound.  You  or  I,  on  the 
contrary,  waste  a  great  «lcal  of  breath,  and  i^end  the  .si.nnd  right  and  left,  as  well  aK  for- 
ward. Prom  this  elocationary  rule  we  may  deduce  a  moral  lesson  :  In  every  act  of  life 
spend  no  more  than  the  exact  amount  of  energy  required  !  Every  mentxil  emotion  is  a 
jewel.  Let  us  hoard  them  up  for  fitting  use.  How  many  jieople  waste,  in  impatience 
and  patty  atrife,  the  treaaare  of  anger,  so  sacred  when  it  becomea  righteoas  wrath  ! 

Now  for  a  few  final  and  most  necessary  suggestions  to  readers. 
To  breath  easily,  choose  a  high  seat.  Buried  in  an  easy-chair,  it 
is  impossible  to  breathe  from  the  base  of  the  lungs.  I  would  also 
say,  be  careful  to  sit  erect.  No  one  who  stoops  can  breathe  other- 
wise than  ill. 

To  this  admirable  exposition  of  the  subject  may  be 
added  the  following  practical  suggestions : 

A  full  inspiration  elevates  and  expands  the  chest,  and,  by  de- 
scent of  the  diaphragm,  slightly  protrudes  the  abdomen;  and  a 
correct  vocal  expimtion  manifests  itself,  first,  in  the  flattening  of 
the  abdomen,  and  then  in  its  very  gra<lually  falling  inward,  in  pro- 
longed expiration — the  chest  making  little  or  no  action  downward, 
even  in  the  most  forcible  efibrt. 


Chap.  XXIX]       CLOSED  TEETH.  553 

In  oases  of  pulmonaiy  and  vocal  weakness,  the  very  opposite  of 
tliis  mode  of  resi)iration  is  generally  found  to  be  habitual.  The 
chest  falls  with  eveiy  expiration,  and  has  to  be  again  raised  when 
breath  is  inhaled.  The  diai)hragm  is  almost  a  fixture,  and  the 
speaker  becomes  exhausted  by  the  continual  muscular  eflfort  needed 
to  work  the  massive  frame- work  of  the  chest.  The  chest  should  be 
fully  exjmnded,  once  for  all,  before  the  first  word  is  uttered,  and 
then  kept  uj)  by  frequent  imperceptible  replenishment  of  air  to 
the  close  of  the  longest  sentence  or  paragraph.  In  this  way  speak- 
ing becomes,  instead  of  an  exhausting  labor,  one  of  the  most  salu- 
tary exercises. — Bbll. 

It  is  to  be  noted  that  the  percussiveness  of  good  oratorical 
speech  is  not  due  to  chest-action — which  would  be  laborious — but 
to  exi>ausibility  of  the  pharynx,  the  cavity  at  the  back  of  the 
mouth  and  above  the  throat.  Distention  of  the  pliarynx  may  be 
plainly  seen  in  the  neck  of  a  player  on  the  bugle  or  cornet-a- 

piston .  — liEGOUVfe. 

Inspiration  is  allowable : 
i.  After  all  words  preceded  or  followed  by  an  ellipse, 
ii.  After  words  used  in  apostrophe,  as.  Sir,  Madam. 

iii.  After  conjunctions  and  interjections,  when  there  is  silence. 

iv.  After  all  transixjsitious  ;  for  example,  to  live,  one  must 
work.  Here  the  preposition  to  takes  the  value  of  its  natural  ante- 
cedent, work  ;  that  is  to  say,  six  degrees,  since  by  inversion  it  pre- 
cedes it,  and  the  gesture  of  the  sentence  bears  wholly  on  the 
preposition. 

V.  Before  and  after  incidental  phrases. 

vi.  When  we  wish  to  indicate  an  emotion.     .     .     . 

The  su8i)en8ory  wt  expres.ses  reticence  and  disquietude.  A 
child  who  has  just  been  corrected  desor\'edly,  and  who  recognizes 
his  fault,  expires.  Another,  corrected  unjustly,  and  who  feels 
grief  more  than  love,  inspires. — Deusabtb. 

Closed  Teeth  will  prevent  distinct  utterance. 

A  considerable  loss  of  resonance  is  the  consequence,  because  the 
cavity  of  the  mouth  is  never  placed  in  the  best  position  for  rein- 
forcing the  laryngeal  tones,  and  also  Itecanse  the  sound-waves  can- 
not issue  Mith  sufllcieut  freedom  to  the  external  air.     It  is  only 


654  THE  VOICE.  [PartV. 

necessary  to  recognize  the  habit,  when  existent,  in  order  that  the 
iiurliiiation  to  it  may  l>e  overcome  by  tho  will. — Holmes. 

The  Pitch  of  voice  is  a  matter  of  great  consequence. 
To  quote  again  from  Legouve : 

The  auditorium  of  the  Conservatory,  said  Febv^,  resembles  an 
excellent  Stradivarius.  No  violin  surpasses  it  in  harmonious  reso- 
nance. The  sounds  that  you  send  forth  are  returned  to  you  by  its 
melodious  walls  fuller,  rounder,  softer.  Your  voice  can  i)lay  on 
these  walls  as  your  fiugei-s  play  on  the  keys  of  a  fine  musical  in- 
Etrument.  Be  very  careful,  therefore,  to  avoid  too  high  a  pitch. 
And  lay  down  this  rule  as  a  principle :  Always  adapt  and  propor- 
tion your  voice  not  only  to  the  size  of  the  hall  in  wliich  you  speak, 
but  also  to  its  acoustic  properties. 

The  three  varieties  of  voice  known  as  high,  low,  and  medium, 
are  all  indisj^ensable  to  artistic  reatling ;  but  they  should  be  very 
diflfei*ently  used,  their  strength  being  quite  unequal.  The  medium 
voice  is  the  strongest,  most  flexible,  and  natural  of  the  three ;  in- 
deed, the  famous  actor  Mold  once  said,  "Without  the  middle 
register  no  reputation."  In  fact,  the  modiuin  voice,  being  the 
ordinary  one,  is  used  to  express  all  the  truest  and  most  natural 
emotions  :  the  lower  notes  often  have  great  power,  the  upper  notes 
great  brilliancy  ;  but  they  should  never  be  used  unseasonably.  I 
might  compare  the  upper  notes  to  the  cavalry  in  an  army,  to  be 
reserv^ed  for  sudden,  bold  attacks,  triumphant  charges ;  the  lower 
notes,  like  the  artillery,  are  used  for  feats  of  strengih ;  but  the 
true  dependence  of  the  army,  the  element  on  which  the  tactician 
chiefly  relies,  is  the  infantry — the  medium  tones.  The  first  rule 
in  the  art  of  reading  establishes  the  superior  value  of  the  middle 
register.  The  upper  tones  are  much  more  fi*agile,  are  liable  to 
wear  out,  or  become  shrill  and  discordant  if  too  much  used.  Some- 
times this  abuse  of  the  upper  notes  affects  the  very  judgment  of  a 
speaker.  M.  Berryer  once  told  me  how  he  lost  an  excellent  case 
by  unconsciously  beginning  his  plea,  on  too  high  a  key.  Fatigue 
soon  spread  from  his  laiynx  to  his  head,  his  thoughts  became  in- 
volved, and  he  lost  a  part  of  his  brain-i)Ower,  simply  because  it 
never  occurred  to  him  to  descend  from  the  lofty  perch  to  which  his 
voice  had  climbed  at  the  outset. 


Chap.  XXIX.  1  PITCH.  555 

Nor  is  Abom  of  the  lower  notes  leoi  aerions ;  it  prodnoea  monotony  and  a  certain  diil- 
nem  and  deadnetw  of  quality.  Talino,  when  young,  was  much  given  to  this  failing.  His 
volw,  though  powerful  and  eloquent,  wiis  rather  sombre ;  and  it  was  only  by  dint  of  hiinl 
study  that  ho  nim-il  it  from  the  di'pth«  where  it  naturally  lingered.  Apropos  of  thiK,  let 
ine  relate  an  nnealote  of  my  father,  who,  as  1  said  before,  was  a  fine  reader— much  of  his 
succetw  at  the  College  of  France,  where  he  taught,  depending  on  this  talent.  He  Often 
intnxlucwi  quotations  from  the  great  poets  of  France  in  his  lectures,  which  won  universal 
uppIauH*.  This  applause,  to  which  he  was  naturally  susceptible,  gained  him  many  envious 
1  .IS.  and  at  last  a  criticism  appeared,  as  follows:  "Yesterday.  M.  Legouv6  reatJ  two 
-  .  lu-s  from  Ilaoino  in  hin  aepulchrai  voice."  This  fell  under  the  notice  of  one  of  his 
fri.-nds.  M.  Parxeval  Orandtnaison,  who  immediately  said  :  *'  Dear  me,  Legouv6  must  be 
v.Ty  nuich  vexe<l  at  this;  I'll  go  and  see  him."  He  found  my  father  on  the  sofa  in  a  moat 
melancholy  mood. 

"  Oh  !  it's  you,  is  it,  my  dear  Parscval  ?  " 

*•  Tes.     Are  you  ill.  Legonv6  ?     Ton  look  sad." 

"No!  there's  nothing  the  matter;  a  alight  acre  throat.  Tell  me,  Paraeral,  what  do 
you  think  of  my  voice  ?  " 

**  Why,  I  think  it's  beautiful,  my  boy," 

"Yes,  yea;  but  what  do  you  consider  ita  character?  Do  yon  call  it  a  brilliant 
voice  ?  " 

"  Oh.  no !  not  brilliant !     I  would  rather  call  it  sonorous ;  yes,  that's  it,  sonorous." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  call  it  a  grave  voice  ?  " 

"  Qrave  be  it !  but  not  melancholy  I  No !  no !  not  melancholy !  And  yet  there  ia  • 
certain " 

**  Bat  you  don't  call  it  cavernous  ?  " 

"Not  at  all!     StUl " 

"Oh  f  I  see,"  cried  my  father,  "  that  you  agree  with  that  wretched  critic,  who  calls 
my  voice  sepulchral !  " 

The  moral  of  this  story  ia,  that  from  that  day  forth  my  father  strove  to  give  his  lower 
notes  a  rest,  and  to  blend  them  better  with  the  upper  and  medium  tones ;  and  thus  he 
iux}uinHl  that  variety  of  sound  which  is  at  once  charming  to  the  listener,  and  easy  for  the 
reailer. 

But  thi.s  intermixturo  of  tone  is  not  the  only  vooal  exercise.  The 
voift»  must  be  cultivated  in  various  way.s.  Cultivation  strengthens  a 
weak  voice,  makes  a  stitf  one  flexible,  a  hanih  one  soft,  and  in  fact 
lu't.s  u|X)n  the  speaking  voice  as  musical  exercises  on  the  singing 
voice.  We  sometimes  hear  that  great  artists — M.  Duprez,  for  in- 
stance— mmie  tfteir  omi  tfoiofm.  The  expression  is  incorrect.  No 
one  can  make  a  voice  who  has  not  one  to  start  with,  and  this  is 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  voice  is  inmshable.  No  voice  would 
ever  l>e  lost,  could  it  l)e  nuule  at  Mill ;  but  it  may  be  changed  ;  it 
may  gain  IkkIv,  brilliancy,  and  expression,  not  only  from  a  series 
of  gymnastics  adapted  to  strengthen  the  whole  organ,  but  from  a 
certain  method  of  attacking  the  note.  Additional  notes  may  also 
be  gained  by  study.    On  one  occasion,  the  famous  Malibrau,  when 


556  THB  VOiCR  [Pabt  V. 

singing  the  rondo  from  "  Bomnambula,"  finished  her  cadenza  with 
a  trill  on  D  in  alt,  running  up  from  low  D,  thiw  embracing  three 
octaves.  These  three  octaves  were  no  natural  gift,  but  the  result 
of  long  and  |jatient  labor.  After  the  concert,  some  one  expressed 
liLs  admiration  of  her  D  in  alt,  to  which  she  replied :  "  Well,  I've 
worked  hard  enough  for  it.  I've  been  chasing  it  for  a  month.  I 
pursued  it  everywhere — when  I  was  dressing,  when  I  was  doing 
my  hair ;  and  at  last  I  found  it  in  the  toe  of  a  shoe  that  I  was  put- 
ting on !  "  Thus  we  see  tliat  art  will  not  only  aid  us  in  governing, 
but  also  in  extending,  our  kingdom. 

It  hardly  need  be  added  that  the  pitch  must  be  wlioUy 
under  control  of  the  speaker.  The  woefe  of  Mr.  Orator 
Puff  have  been  thus  set  forth : 

Mr.  Orator  Pnff  had  two  tone*  in  his  Toioe, 

The  one    iranaklng  that,  and  the  other  dovn  ao; 
In  each  aentenoe  he  ntter'd  he  gmrm  yoa  your  oholoe» 
For  one-half  was  B  alt,  and  the  rest  G  below. 
Oh  1  oh  I  Orator  Puff, 
One  voice  for  an  orator's  sorely  enongh. 


But  he  rtill  talked  away,  spite  of  oonghs  and  of '. 

So  distracting  all  ears  with  his  npe  and  his  downs, 
That  a  wag  once,  on  hearing  the  orator  say, 

''  My  voice  is  for  war,"*  ask'd  him,  "  If^lc*  bf  them,  iiray  ?** 

Beeling  homeward,  one  evening,  to|>-heavy  with  gin. 
And  rehearsing  his  speoch  on  the  weight  of  tlie  crown. 

He  tripp'd  near  a  saw-pit,  and  tumbled  right  in, 

**  Sinking  fund,^^  the  last  words  as  his  noddle  came  down. 

"Alas ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  his  he  and  she  tones, 

'*  Help  me  out ! — help  me  out !— I  have  broken  my  bones ! " 

"  Help  yon  out ! "  said  a  Paddy,  who  |»ass'd,  '*  what  a  bother ! 
Why,  there's  tioo  of  you  there ;  can't  you  help  one  another  ? ' 


PRESERVATION  OF  THE  VOICE. 

The  Hygiene  of  the  voice  is  a  matter  of  vital  mo- 
ment to  every  speaker. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  famous  singer  tliat  the  stage  he  was  rid- 
ing in  tumbled  down  a  i>recipice.  When  it  had  stopped  rolling 
over  and  over,  and  our  tenor  could  recover  his  wits,  he  rose  to  a 
ftitanj^  '^osture,  and  instantly  began  to  pi-aetise  the  scales.   *'  Thank 


CuAP.  XXIX.  1  BEST.  '^57 

heaveu  ! "  he  exclaimed,  •*  my  high  C  is  here  yet !  "  And  then  he 
proceeded  to  tiud  out  whether  any  limbs  were  broken — a  matter  of 
minor  consequence. 

Porter  gives  these  rules  for  the  preservation  of  the 
voice : 

(a)  Sustain  the  general  health. 

(6)  Spare  the  vocal  organs :  (i)  keep  on  the  normal  key ;  (ii) 
rest  the  organs  when  inflamed. 

(c)  Be  rested  before  sjieaking  ;  speak  after  you  have  recovered 
from  the  labor  of  prepai-ation. 

{d)  Do  not  sjieak  when  hungr\%  or  just  after  a  hearty  meal. 

(<?)  Esijecially  avoid  oijeniug  the  mouth  when  going  home  in 
the  cold  air. 

Shuldham,  an  excellent  authority,  speaks  as  follows : 

Best  after  Exertion. — Now,  in  this  chapter  on  Hygiene  of 
the  Voice,  we  must  give  one  piece  of  advice  which  is  more  valuable 
than  all  the  dnigs  whose  names  and  whose  properties  we  may 
mention.  The  atlvice  is  as  follows  :  Whenever  the  voice  is  tiretl, 
give  it  rest ;  when  the  body  is  tired,  do  not  use  the  voice.  Now, 
when  the  voice  is  tired,  it  has  done  too  much  work ;  the  nerves 
say,  "Give  us  peace ;**  the  muscles  echo,  *'Give  us  peace."  It 
is  but  cruelty  to  goad  these  on  to  further  efforts,  and  if  wo  do,  then 
we  shall  suffer,  as  sure  as  Tuesday  follows  Monday.  Nature  will 
have  her  revenge  ;  she  will  not  let  the  laws  of  health  be  violated 
with  imjiunity.  I  said,  whenever  the  voice  is  tired  we  should  give 
it  rest ;  better  still  before  it  is  tired,  if  this  is  jxissible,  and  it  is 
possible  when  we  are  simply  exercising  it  in  our  quiet  rooms  at 
home ;  we  shall  then  save  ourselves  a  fatigue  that  in  the  pulpit  or 
on  the  stage  would  be  as  moi-tif\-ing  as  it  is  larmfid  to  voice  and 
reputation.  Best  is  a  haven  for  which  wo  must  steer  ;  rest  is  the 
first  medicine  we  must  think  of ;  rest  is  the  true  medicine  that 
nature  will  offer  us,  and  rest  is  the  only  medicine  that  we  can  take 
in  large  quantities  and  ^itathout  injury.     .     .     . 

Thb  Pbopkr  Prn'H.  — Let,  therefore,  the  clergyman  who  would 
avoid  the  calamity  of  chronic  sore  throat  go  to  the  piano  and  sing 
the  diatonic  scale  until  he  has  found  the  compass  of  his  voice,  and 


558  THE  VOICR  [Part  V. 

then  let  him  find  the  dominant  note ;  sing  the  note  and  two  or 
three  notes  above  and  below  it,  so  as  to  get  thoroughly  familiar 
with  the  whereabouts  of  the  note ;  then  let  him  pitch  uix)n  it 
without  the  help  of  the  piano.  Let  him  afterward  find  the  domi- 
nant note  with  his  speaking  voice,  play  a  few  chords  while  he  exe- 
cutes a  kind  of  recitative  that  has  only  a  short  lunge,  and  then  let 
him  break  fairly  into  a  continuous  musical  sound  on  the  dominant 
note.  Daily  practice  of  this  kind  will  soon  render  his  voice  flex- 
ible, and  make  his  ear  delicate  to  the  perception  of  pure  soimd. 
It  will  not  merely  give  flexibility,  but  also  strength  to  the  voice. 
Indeed,  the  true  and  only  way  to  become  a  musical  speaker  is  to 
leani  the  art  of  song.     .     .     . 

When,  therefore,  faulty  breathing  has  been  corrected,  injudi- 
cious pitch  altered,  monotony  of  voice  avoided,  then  the  stmin  of 
voice  spoken  of  as  a  cause  of  sore  throat  must  disa])pcar  also,  for 
undue  strain  can  only  in  exceptional  instances  be  occasioned  when 
the  speaker  is  master  of  his  craft.     .     .     . 

Protection  of  the  Thkoat. — It  is  better  to  keep  the  neck  free 
and  open  from  all  restraint  and  all  coddling  when  in  health  ;  but 
cold  once  caught,  then  the  catcher  of  cold  cannot  be  too  careful 
to  protect  himself  against  further  hurtful  influences. 

Care  must  be  taken  to  protect  the  throat  against  the  evil  in- 
fluences of  cold  air  immediately  after  the  prolonged  use  of  the 
voice,  .  .  .  for  the  throat  is  then  in  a  state  of  tempoi-aiy  con- 
gestion, and  therefore  in  a  most  impressionable  condition.  A 
current  of  cold  air  blowing  on  the  speaker's  or  singer's  throat  is 
very  apt  to  cause  a  chill.  A  chill  is  the  beginning  of  all  evil  to 
the  organs  of  breath  and  speech,  and  therefore  it  must  be  strictly 
avoided.  By  wrapping  a  silk  handkerchief  around  the  neck,  put- 
ting on  a  comfortable  great-coat,  and  breathing  through  the  nose 
on  the  exit  from  the  warm  room  or  church  to  the  cold  outer  air, 
the  speaker  or  singer  will  be  enabled  to  set  cold  air  at  defiance  ; 
and  if  the  exit  is  matle  at  night,  and  there  is  a  walk  home,  let  the 
speaker's  or  singer's  friends  take  the  part  of  perfoiiners  in  the 
inevitable  dialogue  of  a  walk  home,  but  let  him  take  the  part  him- 
self of  a  well-conducted  audience,  and  keep  silence.  He  may 
applaud  their  remarks,  if  valuable,  with  an  occasional  grunt  of 
approbation  from  the  warm  recesses  of  comforter  or  beard. 


Chap.  XXIX  )     BREATHING   THROUGH   THE  NOSE.  559 

Breathing  through  the   Nose,  especially  upon 
iviiig  a  heated  room  to  enter  the  cold  air,  is  perhaps 


leaving 


more  imjx>rtant  than  any  other  single  rule  for  the  protec- 


tion  of  the  throat  and  lungs 


Snch  facts  indicate  clearly  that  nasal  inspiration  exerts  an  ini- 
l)<)itaiit  protective  power,  local  and  general,  over  the  health. 
Hence  we  can  nnderstand  the  fervor  ^^ith  which  Professor  Tyudall 
•  xclaims  that  if  lie  could  leave  a  perpetual  legacy  to  mankind,  he 
would  embody  it  in  the  words,  "Keep  youi*  mouth  shut." 

Every  precaution  should  be  taken  in  order  to  reduce  to  a  mini- 
iiium  the  evil  of  inspiiing  through  the  mouth.  In  8i)eaking,  the 
nostrils  will  usually  furnish  enough  air,  unless  in  occasional 
(It'clamations  where  great  vehemence  is  demanded.  That  the  oi*a- 
tor  will  find  as.siduous  attention  to  breathing  through  the  nose, 
whenever  practicable,  a  most  effective  agent  for  the  preservation 
<»f  his  voice,  may  be  considered  as  proved  by  experience,  on  the 
tostimouy  of  numerous  eminent  teachers  of  elocution.  We  even 
I'md  that  in  the  last  contuiy  the  knowledge  of  this  hygienic  fact, 
tiu»n  only  recognized  by  experts,  was  believed  to  be  of  such  value 
tt»  the  professional  speaker,  that  it  was  often  sold  for  a  large  sum 
under  a  pledge  of  secrecy. — Gordon  Holmes. 

THE  VOICE  AS  AN  INTERPRETER. 

I  IumI  been  or^Ucking  oert«tn  poenm,  and  M.  Coiuln,  itaongh  agreeing  with  me,  WM 
•arpriwd  by  my  the>iricM,  and  askt-d  me  how  I  carnt?  by  such  noiSona 

''By  r<-adiuR  uIuikI,'  1  n-pHnl.  "The  voice  is  a  revealer,  an  initiator,  whose  power 
Is  aa  marveUoua  km  it  in  nnknuwii.'* 

"  I  do  not  nndvmtand/* 

**  Lai  me  explain.    II mo.  Talma,  a  famous  actretn  of  the  laxt  century '* 

*♦  Tve  Men  her  I "  cried  Couiiln.     •*  What  soul !     What  sensibility  !  " 

**  Well  t  Mme.  Talma  t<.-lls  us  in  her  memoirs  that,  when  playing  '  Andromache.*  she 
was  oooa  w>  deeply  moved  that  tears  flowed,  not  only  from  the  eyes  of  all  her  bearera,  but 
from  bar  own  aa  weU.  The  tragedy  over,  one  of  her  admirr n«  ruHlird  to  her  box  and.  gratp- 
ing  her  hand,  exclaimed :  » Ob  I  my  dear  friend,  it  was  wonderful  1  It  was  Andromache 
beraelf !    Pm  sore  that  yon  really  fMt  yoonwlf  In  Bpiras,  Heotoi's  widow  I  * 

"'Not  a  bit  of  it!  *  she  replied,  with  a  langh. 

" '  And  yet  yon  were  raally  ailtated,  for  yoo  wept  1 ' 

*"  To  be  sure  I  dM.* 

" '  But  why  r  why  r    Wbat  made  yon  wwp  T  * 

"•My  voice.' 

"'What!  yourTolceT' 


•'^^0  THE  VOICE.  [Part  V. 

"  '  Yi'H,  my  own  voice  1  I  wm  toactuxl  by  the  cxpresRion  which  my  vuicc  gave  to  the 
Borrows  of  Amlrumaohe,  not  by  the  eorrown  themHeiveK.  The  nurvouK  shiver  which  tr»- 
vetMNl  my  frame  wm  tho  eieeferio  Hhock  produced  on  my  nerves  by  my  own  tones.  For 
the  time  being  I  wM  both  actreM  ami  nutlienue.     I  magnetised  myself/  ~ 

**  How  Htmnge !  "^  cried  Couidn. 

*'  And  bow,  much  li^t  the  story  throws  upon  the  power  of  voice  I  Nor  waA  this  feel- 
ing jtoculiar  to  Mme.  Talma.  Rachel  once  made  a  remark  which  I  can  never  forget. 
Hhe  was  s^teaking  of  having  radted  in  the  garden  at  Potsdam  tiefore  the  Czar  of  Ruw-ia, 
King  of  Prussia,  and  ot^er  crowned  heads,  and  she  naid  :  '  That  audience  of  kinga 
elttctrified  me.  Never  were  my  tones  more  omni|iotent;  my  voice  betoltched  my 
eors." 

"  Nur  is  this  alL  One  of  the  greatest  Fren<dk  actors  now  living  hsR  often  tuld  i^  that 
he  could  never  reach  the  pitch  of  emotion  which  so  deeply  Rtira  his  audience  if  he  did 
not  1mm  hiB  parts  by  reciting  them  aUnuL  His  voice  electrifles  and  guides  him!  And 
thiH  is  the  explanation  of  the  seemingly  inexplicable  fact  that  actors  who  are  utterly  ntu- 
pM  may  Kfivmr  brilliantly  on  tho  stage." 

"  ImposaUtle  I  ^ 

•*  I  have  known  Buch  inAtancos  !  I  have  seen  men  of  ordinary  intellect  and  sensibility 
on  the  Rtagc  mould  their  hearerH  tn  their  will,  and  this  because  their  voice  knew,  felt,  and 
acted  for  them.  Coniiemii  them  to  silence,  and  they  fall  back  into  mediocrity.  It  seems 
as  if  a  little  fairy  lUumbered  in  their  throat,  who  woke  when  they  spoke,  and  by  waving 
her  wand  roused  unknown  |>owerij  in  them.  The  voice  is  an  invisible  actor  hidden  within 
the  actor,  a  mysrerioos  reader  concealed  within  the  reader,  and  serving  both  as  prompter. 
I  give  you  this  problem  to  solve,  my  dear  philosopher,  but  I  draw  from  it  this  conclusion, 
which  I  hope  you  will  grant— that,  inferior  as  I  am  to  you  in  many  respects,  I  do  know 
La  Fontaine  better  than  you,  simply  because  I  read  him  iiloud."* 

''  So  be  it !  "  said  my  friend,  smiling  ;  "  but  who  can  Hiy  that  you  do  not  attribute  In- 
tentions which  they  never  had  to  I>a  Fontaine  and  other  great  men  ? '' 

"  I  answer  you  by  a  quotation  from  Comeille.  Some  one  once  showed  him  certain  ob- 
scure ver&esof  his  own  coni|>o-<ltion,  iisking  for  an  explanation.  *  When  I  wrote  them,'  was 
his  artless  reply,  '  I  understood  them  i)erfectly  ;  but  now  they  are  as  vapue  to  me  as  to  you. 
Yon  see  that  there  are  certain  thinjrs  in  the  works  of  the  masters  insoluble  even  by  them- 
selves. In  the  fire  of  creation,  they  instinctively  use  expressions  which  they  do  not  real- 
ize, but  which  are  none  the  le  s  true.  Genius,  like  beauty  and  childhood,  is  unconscious  ■ 
of  self.  When  a  cliild  enchants  us  by  his  innocent  pmile,  he  does  not  know  that  it  is  in- 
nocent. Does  this  detract  from  its  charm  ?  One  of  the  chief  advantages  of  remling 
aloud  is  the  fact  that  it  reveals  countless  little  sha<les  of  meaning  in  an  author,  ignored 
even  by  the  hand  that  wrote  them.  In  this  way  the  art  might  be  useil  as  a  powerful 
educational  instrument.  A  fine  elocution  teacher  is  often  an  excellent  teacher  of  liter- 
ature." 

Upon  this  we  parted,  M.  Cousin  uttering  words  which  were  very  flattering,  from 
such  a  source  :  "  Thanks,  my  friend,  you  have  taught  me  something  new  1  '* 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


The  Voice. 

A  frrl'U  roirf  (jireft  pain  : 

II.   Uy  Rvnipathy,  p.  547. 
h.   Hv  mt'iital  lalwr,  p.  547. 
ACQUIREMENT  OF   A   GOOD   VOICE,  p.  548. 
Organs  of  speech  cUtmfied  : 

a.  Organs  which  generate  sound,  p  548. 

i    The  air-chamber  and  .ippendages,  p.  548. 
ii.  Tlie  larynx  and  appendages,  p   548. 

b.  Organs  which  modify  sound,  p   ."48. 

i    The  resonanrt'  apparatus  and  appendages,  p.  548 
ii.  T]i«»  articulating  instrument,  p.  549. 
Readintr  aloud,  p   549 
PROPER   USE  OF  THE   VOICE,  p.  550. 
Breathing,  p  55() 
Allowable : 

i.  After  words  preceded  or  followed  by  an  ellipse,  p.  558. 
ii.  After  words  used  in  apostrophe,  p  553. 
iii.  After  conjunctions  and  interjections  when  there  is  si 

lence,  p.  55:{ 
iv.  After  all  transpositions,  p  55.*^. 
T.   Before  and  a'^ter  incidental  phrases,  p.  558. 
vi.   When  we  wish  to  indicate  emotion,  p.  553. 
('losed  teeth,  p.  55;J. 
The  Pitch,  p.  554. 

PRF^SKRVATION   OF   THE   VOICE,  p.  566. 
Hvgiine  of  the  voice,  p.  556. 
HuUn: 

a.  Sustain  the  general  health,  p.  567. 

b.  Span*  the  vo<*al  organs,  p.  557. 

i    K«»ep  on  th»'  normal  key,  p.  567. 
ii    R»'st  tlu*  organs  wlu-n  inflamed,  p.  557. 
e.   Be  rested  before  sp<'aking,  p.  557. 

d.  Do  not  speak  when  hungry,  or  just  after  eating,  p.  557. 

e.  Avoid  o|>ening  the  mouth  when  going  home  in  the  cold 

air.  p.  567. 
Rest  after  exertion,  p.  557. 
The  proju'r  pit.b,  p   .V»7. 
Protertion  of  the  thr«»at,  p.  558. 
Breathing  throuirh  the  n<»s«'.  p   550. 
THE  VOICE  AS  AN   INTERPRETER,  p  569. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

DELIVERY. 

Ackkm  i«  doqiMioe  and  the  eyes  of  the  ignotaai 
More  tauiMd  than  th^  ours.— Sbaksfkkx. 

A  dergyman  Mked  Ganick,  "  Why  to  it  that  yoa  are  able  to  prodnce  ao  mnch  more 
effect  with  the  recital  of  your  fictions  than  we  by  the  delivery  of  the  most  important 
truths  ?  ^  Garriclc  replied,  '*  Because  you  speak  tmtha  as  if  they  were  fictions ;  we  speak 
fictions  as  if  they  were  truths.*^ 

The  friends  of  a  yonng  man  destined  to  proftoHkmal  life  as  a  public  speaker  were  solid* 
tons  about  his  snoceas  in  speaking,  and  suggested  the  importance  of  bis  devodng  himoelf 
to  the  stndy  and  practice  of  elooation.  "  I  want  no  artificial  training,"  was  the  prompt 
reply ;  "  find  me  the  thing  to  ^y,  and  Til  find  tlie  manner  of  saying  it.'^  This  young  man 
must  have  oonsdonsly  possessed  by  s|iecial  endowment  all  that  it  ooet  Demotabenes  so 
many  laborious  years  to  master. — RussuJ.. 

Demosthenes  having  once  harangued  the  people  very  nnanooessfnlly,  hastened  home 
with  his  head  covered,  and  in  much  chagrin.  Meeting  with  Satyms,  the  trsgedian,  he 
complained  bitterly  to  him,  that  though  he  labored  more  than  ail  other  orators,  and  had 
greatly  impa  red  his  health  by  it,  yet  he  could  not  please  the  people ;  but  that  drunlcards, 
mariner8,and  other  illiterate  pu-aons  were  wholly  in  possession  of  the  popular  ear.  "  You 
say  true,"  answered  Satyms ;  "but  I  shall  soon  remove  the  cause,  if  yon  will  repeat  me 
some  verses  of  Enripides  or  Sophocles  without  book."  Demosihenes  did  so,  and  Satj-rus 
repeated  the  verses  after  him,  but  with  such  variety  of  expression  and  aptnes-s  of  gesture 
that  Demosthenes  scarcely  knew  them  to  be  the  same.  The  lesson  was  not  lost ;  De- 
mosthenes saw  what  a  vast  accession  of  power  was  added  to  an  oration  by  action  and  elo- 
cution, and  thenceforth  considered  all  declamation  vain  where  these  qualities  were  n^- 
lected.— P«rcy  Aneedotet. 

Npxessity  of  Study. — There  is  a  common  impression 
among  jonng  speakers  that  delivery  is  a  natural  gift ;  that 
a  good  discourse  will  find  natural  and  effective  expression ; 
that  there  is  something  theatrical  in  making  a  study  of 
tone,  accent,  emphasis,  and  gesture. 

People,  by  a  strange  confusion  of  terms,  use  indifferently  and 
in  the  same  sense  the  two  words  speak  and  talk.     No  two  words 


Cn\r.  \\\  NECESSITY  OF    STUDY.  563 

are  more  iinliko  in  meaning.  There  are  people  wlio,  from  the 
standpoint  of  good  diction,  talk  very  well  and  speak  quite  as  ill- 
If  you  x^-ish  to  prove  this  fact,  go  into  any  court-house  ;  address 
home  lawyer  of  your  acquaintance,  and  chat  with  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. His  delivery  will  be  natural  and  simple.  Follow  him  into 
the  court-room  and  listen  to  his  plea.  He  is  another  man  ;  all  his 
merits  disapi^ear  :  he  was  natural,  he  is  now  bombastic  ;  he  talked 
in  tune,  he  speaks  out  of  tune — for  we  can  speak  as  well  as  sing 
out  of  tune. — LiEooirvfe. 

AVhen  Cowi)er  expres-ses  his  abhorrence  of  the  "  start  theatric 
pi-actisod  at  the  glass,"  all  the  world  approves  the  censure,  be- 
<au.se  all  the  world  undei*stands him  t^  mean  the  affected  and  con- 
temptible exhibition  of  one's  self  as  the  object  of  admiration  to  an 
a.««embly  who  are  waiting  to  hear  a  message  from  God.  There 
certainly  is  neither  piety  nor  power  in  clo^^-nishnesa.  And  it  can- 
not be  denied  that  if  some  speakei-s  had  practised  their  attitudes 
iind  starts  before  a  glass,  they  would  never  have  inflicted  them  on 
their  hearers. 

The  negligent  speaker  often  justifies  his  mannerism  on  the 
ground  of  j)er8onality.  Speaking  of  his  prominenl  faults,  he  \*ill 
say  :  "  This  is  my  natural  manner  ;  I  like  to  see  individuality  of 
style  in  delivery,  as  in  all  other  forms  of  expression ;  and  this 
trait  constitutes  mine.  I  cannot  change  it  for  another,  because 
that  other,  though  perhaps  better  in  itself,  would  not  be  natural 
to  me." 

This  reasoning  would  be  as  sound  as  it  is  plausible  in  itself  and 
comforting  to  indolence,  were  habit  and  nature  invariably  the 
same  in  indiWduals,  and  were  manner  inevitable  and  immutable, 
like  Uichter's  ca.st-metal  king.  But  manner  in  expression  is  the 
most  plastic  of  all  things ;  it  can  be  moulded  at  vriW  to  wliatever 
shaiie  a  decisive  resolution  and  a  persevering  spirit  determine. 
Attentive  cultivation  will  refonn,  renovate,  and  recreate  here,  as 
extensively  as  elsewhere.  It  will  enable  the  indi\-idual  to  shake 
off  the  old  and  put  on  the  new  vesture  of  habit,  and  to  wear  it  too 
with  perfect  ease,  as  the  true  and  natural  garb  of  expression.  Fbr 
all  genuine  culture  is  fn>f  tl„-  <  /o-rishiny  or  the  re^uscittUituj  of  nature. 

—RUHSBIiL. 

BdnR  endued  with  phyHicul  and  Mpiritnul  mi«c(>ptihintl<i<,  man  ii«  the  mcwt  deeply  iin- 
whvn  an  apiivwl  iit  made  to  both  (nirU  u(  bin  Hi-nticnt  nature,  when  the  rye  and 


564  DELiVEIlY  [Part  V. 

the  car  are  doliphted  as  well  bh  the  mind  Mid  heart.  And  «urh  is  the  Hympathy  between 
the  corporeal  and  the  mental  powera,  that  when  the  former  arc  in  a  state  of  appropriate 
excitement,  the  latter  act  with  inoreaaed  viKor  and  Kuooew.  The  soal  perceivcH  the  more 
of  truth,  and  teeU  it  the  more  keenly,  when  the  eye  traces  the  lineaments  of  this  truth 
upon  the  countenance  of  the  speaker,  and  the  ear  catches  the  vibrations  of  it  from  lips 
which  have  been  toached  as  with  a  live  coal  from  off  the  altar. 

Valerius  Maximun  says  of  the  Athenian  orator,  that  "a  great  part  of  Demosthenes  is 
wanting,  for  it  muRt  he  heard  and  not  read.**  QnintHian  says  of  Hortenl>in^  that  *'  there 
was  something  in  him  which  stranirely  pteaaed  when  he  spoke,  which  those  who  twrused 
Us  owtlops  ooald  aot  flad."  Tha  yomiger  Pitt  remarked  that  he  could  never  conjecture 
from  reading  hb  fathe(*s  speeches  where  their  eloquence  lay  hidden.  And  there  have 
been  thousands  of  preachers  who  ottered  truths  which  no  stenographer  could  seize,  which 
no  ready  writer,  with  a  command  of  the  most  eztensiTe  vocabalary,  could  tranirfer  to  the 
sitont  psge,  for  they  were  troth*  that  beamed  from  the  eye,  and  were  breathed  out  in  the 
tones  of  the  vo'ce,  an<t  were  vitdblc  in  the  gesture,  but  could  not  t>c  circum8crit>ed  within 
arbitrary  8>mboI<<.— Russkix. 

I  was  once  intimate  wjth  a  yoonfc  deputy,  full  of  talent  and  learning,  who  deemed  his 
depotjrship  mcn-ly  a  Rtepping  stone  to  the  ministry.  On  one  occasion,  he  was  to  del*rer 
an  addroM  before  the  ministers  and  Honse  of  Deputies,  and  begged  me  to  come  and  bear 
him.     His  speech  over,  he  honied  toward  me,  anxious  to  learn  my  opiniun. 

*'  Well,  old  fellow.**  said  I,  *'  this  speech  will  never  get  yoo  into  the  Cabinet.** 

•'Why  not?** 

"  Because  yon  absolutely  don*t  know  how  to  speak.** 

'*  Don't  know  how  to  speak  I  "  said  he,  somewhat  hurt  and  offended ;  "  and  yet  I 
thought  my  R{>eoch  — .-■' 

"Oh,  your  Ki»eech  was  in  excellent  taste— fair  and  sensible,  even  witty;  but  what 
avails  all  that,  if  no  one  could  hear  you  ?  ^ 

"  Not  hear  me  !     But  I  began  so  lood ** 

"  That  you  may  say  you  shrieked  ;  accordingly  you  were  hoarse  in  fifteen  minutos.** 

"  That's  true.*' 

"  Wait ;  I  haven't  finished  yet.     Having  spoken  too  loud,  you  spoke  too  fast." 

♦•Oh  !  too  fast !  "  he  exclaimed,  deprecatlngly ;  "perhaps  I  did  at  the  end,  because 
I  wanted  to  cut  it  short.** 

"  Exactly :  and  you  did  the  very  opposite — you  spun  it  out  Nothinp,  on  the  stage, 
makes  a  scene  seem  so  long  us  to  reel  it  oflf  too  fast.  An  audience  is  very  cunning,  and 
guesses  by  your  very  has^to  that  you  think  the  thing  drags.  Unwarned,  the  listener 
might  not  notice  it ;  j-ou  draw  bis  attention  to  the  fact,  and  he  loses  patience." 

'*  True  again  !  "  cried  my  friend.  "  I  felt  the  audience  slipping  from  me  toward  the 
end  ;  but  how  can  I  remedy  this  ill  ?  " 

"  Nothing  easier.     Take  a  reading-master.*' 

"  Do  you  know  one  ?  ** 

**  A  splendid  one." 

*"  And  who  ?  " 

'•M.  Samson." 

"  Samson,  the  actor  ?  ** 

"  Yes." 

"  But  I  can*t  take  lessons  of  an  actor.** 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Just  think  of  it !  A  politician  !  a  statesman  1  All  the  comic  papers  would  make 
fun  of  me  if  it  were  known  1 " 


Chap.  XXX.]  OPENING   SENTENCES.  565 

"  Yoa  mn  right !  Peopte  are  jost  stapid  enough  to  tarn  yoa  into  ridicule  for  ttody- 
ing  yonr  proferaion.    But  rest  easy,  no  one  shall  know  it.*^ 

"  You'll  keep  my  aecret  ?  " 

"  Ye« ;  and  Sanmon  too,  I  promise  yon." 

So  he  set  to  work.  Samson  placed  his  voice,  strengthened  It,  and  made  it  flexible. 
He  made  him  read  aloud  page  after  page  of  Bossuet,  MassiUon,  and  Bourdaloue ;  he  Uught 
him  to  begin  a  speech  slowly,  and  in  a  low  voice— people  are  hushed  to  hear  you,  and 
end  by  listening.  These  wise  lessons  bore  their  fruit.  Six  months  later  my  friend  wax  a 
minister  l—LKOouri. 

The  Opening  Sentences  are,  for  the  orator,  the 
must  difficult,  and  lie  is  especially  to  remember  the  im- 
portance of  keeping  calm,  and  of  exhibiting  no  haste  to 
begin. 

A  speaker  shotdd  never  adopt  a  hurried  maimer  in  opening  a 
speech  but  in  one  instance,  and  that  is  when  he  takes  some  con- 
cluding remark  of  the  speaker  who  has  last  preceded  him,  and 
cdiumences  his  own  argument  with  a  reply  to  such  concluding 
sentence.  In  this  solitary  instance  he  may  begin  his  argument 
by  the  time  the  opix)site  speaker  has  touched  his  seat,  and  whilst 
the  replying  si>eaker  is  scarce  erect  in  rising  from  his  o\^ti.  If  an 
apt  reply  to  the  concluding  remark,  or  indeed  to  any  important 
remark  of  an  adverse  si>eaker,  shall  be  made  under  the  circum- 
stances just  8i>ecitied,  the  opening  remarks  of  the  replying  speaker 
will  not  only  be  appreciated  for  their  own  intrinsic  value,  but  they 
will  secnre  a  favorable  reception  for  the  sequel  of  the  speech.     .     . 

As  a  general  pro{>o8ition,  a  s]>oaker  should  not  commence  the 
business  of  speaking  immediately  on  rising  from  his  seat,  but 
should  take  sufficient  time  to  survey  his  audience,  and  to  collect 
his  ideas  with  every  appearance  of  the  calmest  self-possession,  and 
of  respectful  but  easy  confidence.  After  a  few  preliminar}'  mo- 
ments thus  occupied,  he  should  commence  his  remarks  in  a  mod- 
orate  tone  of  voice,  and  in  such  a  way  as  to  introduce  the  subject 
Uofore  him  directly  to  the  attention  of  his  audience.  He  should 
take  due  care  to  begin  his  remarks  with  the  briefest  sentences 
within  reach  of  his  powers.  For  no  circumstance  is  better  calcu- 
lated to  throw  a  speaker  out  of  an  easy  style  of  enunciation  than  a 
long  sentence  at  the  very  oiiening  of  an  argument.  It  requires  a 
great  expenditure  of  breath  to  speak  one  of  these  sentences  through, 
where  it  is  so  long  before  a  pause  is  reached.     And  independent 


566  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

of  the  irksomeness  of  the  operation  connected  with  the  delivery  of 
such  sentences,  it  is  difficult  in  speaking,  as  it  is  in  singing,  to 
blend  any  particular  measure  of  music  or  intonation  with  the 
speaking  of  them.  And  if  the  measure  or  music  of  the  speaker 
should  be  wrong  at  the  commencement  of  the  speech,  as  it  will  be 
veiy  difficult  to  rectify  it  when  he  has  once  gotten  under  way,  his 
style  of  speaking  will  be  apt  to  continue  erroneous  through  the 
whole  speech.    .    .    . 

Daniel  Webster  has  pronounced  eloquence  to  be  **  action,  God- 
like action."  In  the  celebrated  debate  with  Bobert  Hayne,  desire 
having  been  expressed  that  the  discussion  be  deferred,  Mr.  Hayne 
said  that  something  had  fallen  from  the  gentleman  from  Massa- 
chusetts which  had  created  sensations  from  which  he  would  desire 
at  once  to  relieve  himself ;  Mr.  Webster  had  discharged  his  weapon, 
and  he  wished  for  an  opportunity  to  return  the  fire.  Mr.  Webster 
remarked  that  he  was  ready  to  receive  it,  and  wished  the  discus- 
sion to  proceed.  It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Webster's  acceptance 
of  the  implied  challenge  exhibited  an  air  of  majestic  authority 
which  might  have  ser\'ed  as  a  rebuke  even  to  royalty  itself. — 
McQtieen,  condensed. 

Points  requiring  especial  attention  in  public  speaking 
are — (i)  Pitch,  (ii)  Emphasis,  and  (iii)  Gesture. 

(I)  The  Pitch  of  the  orator's  voice  was  a  matter  re- 
garded by  the  Greeks  as  so  important  that  even  the  public 
crier  was  accompanied  by  a  musician  to  give  him  the 
proper  tone.  Quintilian  tells  that  Gracchus  kept  a  flute- 
player  standing  near  him  as  he  spoke,  and  Cicero,  though 
he  thought  this  custom  beneath  the  orator,  advised  that 
though  the  flute  should  be  left  at  home,  the  custom  of 
attending  to  the  pitch  should  be  carried  into  the  forum 
(see  page  557). 

(a)  The  Loudness  of  voice  should  be  proportioned 
to  the  place  and  to  the  audience,  the  general  »-ule  being 
to  speak  just  so  as  to  be  heard  easily  by  tho«e  farthest 
away. 


Chap.  XXX.]  LOUDNESS.  567 

A  convenient  practical  rule  has,  however,  been  given  for  tho 
gnidance  of  8i)eaker8  in  accommodating  the  loudness  and  pitch  of 
their  voices  to  the  size  of  the  room  in  which  they  have  to  speak. 
It  consists  in  fixing  the  eyes  on  the  farthest  corner  of  the  room, 
and  a<ldressing  the  speech  to  those  who  are  there  situated ;  com- 
mencing rather  softly,  the  voice  is  gradually  raised  imtil  it  seems 
to  return  to  the  speaker,  not  with  a  noisy  echo,  but  with  a  sensation 
of  its  pervading  all  parts  of  the  building. — Halcombe. 

The  requisite  degree  of  loudness  will  be  best  obtained,  not  by 
thinking  about  the  voice,  but  by  looking  at  the  most  distant  of  the 
hearers,  and  addrcvssing  one's  self  especially  to  him.  The  voice 
rises  spontaneously  when  we  are  sjjeaking  to  a  j^erson  who  is  not 
very  near. 

It  should  be  added  that  a  speaker's  being  well  heard  does  not 
depend  near  so  much  on  the  loudness  of  the  sounds  as  on  their 
distinctness,  and  especially  on  the  clear  pronunciation  of  the  con- 
sonants. — Whately. 

In  the  BPlection  of  a  pitch  for  the  voice,  when  the  speaker  is  commencing  a  speech, 
he  Bbonld  be  regulated  very  much  by  the  position  he  occupies  in  relation  to  the  aKw>mbly 
he  is  engaged  in  addressing.  If  his  position  should  be  near  the  chair  of  the  presiding 
offloer  when  he  commences  addreaaing  any  assembly,  he  should  speak  loud  enough  at  the 
beginning  of  hU  remarks  to  be  lieard  by  pemonH  at  the  centre  of  the  hall.  If  he  should 
be  standing  at  the  centre  of  the  hall,  he  should  commence  his  remarks  at  the  pitch  of  t\  e 
Toice  which  will  cause  him  to  be  heard  distinctly  at  the  extremities  of  the  hail.  If  he 
■houtd  occupy  a  position  within  four  or  five  feet  of  a  jury,  at  the  opening  of  an  address 
to  a  body  of  that  kind,  he  should  commence  his  remarks  so  ns  to  be  distinctly  audible  to 
them,  and  not  louder,  for  his  proximity  to  the  i^ersons  he  is  addressing  will  render  it  nn- 
graofllnl,  nnbeooming,  and  injnriooa  to  his  cause  to  s|)eak  louder  at  first  than  has  be«  n 
■oigMtod,  for  he  tamj  enlarge  the  compass  of  his  voice  as  he  advances  in  his  address.  If 
•  spsakar  should  be  engaged  in  addressing  a  moUitude  in  the  open  air,  he  should  com* 
menoe  speaking  pnciaelj  with  that  decree  oftfoudness  which  would  characterize  h!s 
voice  in  opening  a  convertation  with  a  iierson  about  the  distance  of  ten  paces  from  I  ini. 
And  he  should  permit  his  voice  afterwnnl  to  swell  it*  compass  so  gradually  that  it  will 
have  attained  its  acme,  or  what  may  be  termed  the  ultimate  limit  of  its  volume,  when  he 
shall  have  spoken  about  fifteen  minates.— McQubbm. 

Unnecessary  Loudness  of  tone  is  usually  re- 
gjir<le<l  as  diu'  t<»  sliallowiu'ss  of  tlumght.  When  a  speaker 
begins  to  shout  and  swing  liis  arms,  a  shrewd  audience 
|)erceives  tlmt  lie  is  strngj;ling  not  to  elucidate  his  thought, 
but  to  distract  attention  fioiu  its  emptiness. 


568  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

When  a  speaker  is  declaiming  to  an  audience  of  any  description 
the  most  finished  and  convincing  aigument  in  a  strain  of  loud  and 
vehement  declamation,  he  is  regarded  by  those  whom  he  addresses 
88  one  who  is  playing  a  part ;  he  is  as  distinct  from  the  audience 
as  the  magician  when  exhibiting  his  mystencs  in  the  field  of  leger- 
demain, and  as  the  clown  in  the  circus  who  has  temporarily  fore- 
gone his  original  identity.  A  speaker  of  this  description  may 
command  the  admiration  of  an  audience  by  the  splendor  of  his 
oratorical  flights,  by  the  vigor  of  his  argumentation,  and  by  the 
dramatic  skill  of  his  gestures.  But  he  rarely  sways  their  sym- 
l)athies  and  affections.  They  view  liim,  while  he  is  engaged  in 
addressing  them,  as  if  he  was  a  different  being  from  themselves — 
as  if  he  was  making  a  speech,  instead  of  talking  to  them  upon  a 
matter  in  which  they  possessed  a  common  interest  with  him.  Let 
a  speaker  of  this  description  be  succeeded  by  one  of  respectable 
powers  and  attainments,  who  addresses  them  in  the  familiar  strain 
of  persuasive  and  animated  conversation,  and  the  change  in  favor 
of  the  conversational  speaker  will  prove  so  glaring  as  almost  to  be 
incredible.  Why  is  this  so  ?  TVTiy,  it  is  a  result  which  flows  from 
the  natuie  and  constitution  of  man.  The  convei*sational  speaker 
addresses  them  in  that  style  which  commands  their  attention  at 
the  festive  board,  at  the  fireside,  in  the  fields  of  labor,  on  the 
public  highways,  and  in  all  the  simpler  duties  and  pleasures  of 
life.  He  talks  to  them  as  they  have  been  accustomed  to  be  talked 
to,  and  as  they  have  been  accustomed  to  talk  to  their  fellow-beings, 
and  they  feel  as  if  they  would  like  to  take  part  in  the  conversation 
with  him. 

The  conversational  speaker  simplifies  the  business  of  speaking 
to  his  hearei*s  so  as  to  bring  a  Aatter  home  to  every-day  sympathies, 
just  as  a  writer  remarkable  for  the  simple  beauties  of  his  style 
endears  himself  to  those  who  read  his  productions,  because  the 
readers  feel  that  the  writer  belongs  to  the  same  race  with  them- 
selves. And  as  persons  who  read  the  works  of  a  writer  character- 
ized by  great  simplicity  of  style  are  apt  to  imaj?ine  that  they  could 
have  written  the  works  they  may  be  enj^^agod  in  reading  them- 
selves, so  the  hearers  of  an  accomplished  conversational  deliater 
will  be  apt  to  imagine  that  they  could  speak  like  him  them- 
selves. 


Chap.  XXX.]  LOUDNESS.  569 

Archbihliop  Tillotaon  regarded  it  as  the  liighest  compliment 
that  had  ever  been  paid  to  him  as  a  pulpit  orator  when,  on 
descending  from  the  pulpit  at  the  close  of  his  discourse  on  a  Sab- 
bath morning,  he  overheard  some  countryman  who  came  down  to 
London  to  hear  him,  ask  a  city  man  with  evident  surprise,  **  Is 
that  your  great  Archbishop?    Why,  he  talks  like  one  of  us."  .  .  . 

The  best  models  for  imitation  in  the  speaking  world  have  sanc- 
tified by  their  example  the  practice  of  commencing  a  speech  on 
the  conversational  key,  and  of  permitting  the  voice  to  extend  in 
its  compass  as  they  progressed  in  their  remarks,  in  such  a  way 
that  it  generally  attained  the  pitch  of  a  highly  animated  conversa- 
tion about  the  time  when  they  had  occupied  the  floor  about  fifteen 
minutes.  — McQueen. 

The  strength  of  the  voice  is  in  an  inverse  ratio  to  the  respiration.  The  more  we  are 
moved  the  lew  loudly  we  speak ;  the  less  the  emotion,  the  stroDKer  the  voice.  In  emo- 
tion the  heart  fleema  to  mount  to  the  larynx,  and  the  voice  is  stifled.  A  soft  tone  should 
always  be  an  affecting  tone,  and  consint  only  of  a  breath.  Force  is  always  opi>o»ed  tu 
power.  It  n  an  error  to  raptwse  that  the  voice  must  be  increased  as  the  heiirt  in  laid  bare. 
TtM  loweat  tones  are  the  best  understood.  If  we  would  make  a  low  voice  audible,  let  as 
•peak  M  aoftly  as  we  can. 

Oo  to  the  aea-shore  when  the  tempest  rages.  The  roar  of  the  waves  as  they  break 
•gainst  the  vewel's  side,  the  muttering  thunden*.  the  furious  wind-gusts  render  the 
strongest  vokse  impotent.  Oo  upon  a  battlc-fleld  when  drums  beat  and  lnini)>et8  sound. 
In  the  midst  of  this  uproar,  thi.se  dixconlaht  cricH,  this  tumult  of  opposing  armies,  the 
leader's  commands,  though  uttered  in  the  loudest  tones,  can  scarcely  be  heard  ;  but  a  low 
whistle  will  be  distinctly  audible.  The  voice  is  intense  in  serenity  and  calm,  but  in  pas- 
sioo  it  is  weak. 

Let  those  who  would  bring  forwatd  subtle  arguments  against  this  law  rentember  that 
logio  is  often  In  default  when  applied  to  artistic  facts. 

A  oonoert  is  given  in  a  contracted  space,  with  an  orchestra  and  a  double-bass.  The 
doable  tMss  is  very  weak.  Logic  woald  suggest  two  double-basses  in  order  to  produce  a 
stronger  tone.  Quite  the  contrary.  Two  double-basses  give  only  a  semi-tone,  which  half 
a  doable-lMM  renden  of  itself.    So  much  for  logic  in  this  case. 

The  gfVAtert  jcj  is  in  sorrow,  for  here  there  is  the  greatest  love.  Other  joys  are  only 
ontheanrfMe.  We  suite  and  we  weep  because  we  lore.  Of  what  avail  are  tears r  The 
■wential  thing  is  to  love.  Tears  are  the  accessories ;  they  wilt  come  in  time,  they  need  not 
to  be  sought.  Nothing  so  wearies  and  disgusts  us  ••  the  lachrymose  tone.  A  man  who 
amounts  to  anything  is  never  a  whimperer. 

Take  two  instruments  in  discord  and  remote  from  each  other.  Logio  forbids  their  ap 
proach  lest  thdr  tones  beeom*  more  disagreeable.  The  reverse  is  tme.  In  bringing 
them  together,  the  loweet  bceomes  higher  and  the  highest  lower,  and  there  is  an  accord. 

Let  na  niypose  a  ball  with  tnpestriea,  a  chnrdi  draped  in  black.  Logic  say*  "  Sing 
more  londly.**  But  this  mmt  be  guarded  against,  test  the  voke  becomes  lost  in  the  dra- 
peries. The  voice  should  soaroe  reach  theee  too  htvrj  or  too  sonorous  partitions,  but 
leavug  the  iipa  softly,  it  should  pokato  through  the  MidlMice  aad  go  no  further. 


570  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 


ia  Mteep.  Loglo  denuinds  more  wannth,  more  fire.  Not  at  all.  Keep 
riknt,  and  the  deepen  win  waken.— Dblsabtb. 

Better  be  oold  than  affect  to  feel.  In  tnith,  nothing  U  so  cold  as  aaeamed.  noisy  en- 
thmdam.  Its  best  emMem  is  the  northern  blast  of  winter,  which  fteeses  as  it  roars.— 
Chavhivo. 

A  little  girl  was  asked  by  her  mother,  on  her  retom  from  churrb.  how  she  liked  the 
praaoher.  "  Didn't  like  him  at  all,**  was  the  reply.  "  Why  ?**  asked  the  mother.  " 'Cause 
he  pceacbed  till  he  made  me  sleepy,  and  then  he  hoUered  so  kmd  he  wouldn't  let  me  go  to 


(b)  The  Final  Words  of  the  sentence  must  not  be 
neglected,  or  obscured  by  tlie  iiiannerisin  of  a  fi.xed  cadence. 

"Both  readers  and  preachers  shonhl  remember  the  old  nile : 
'  Take  care  of  the  end  of  the  sentence,  and  the  beginning  will  take 
care  of  itself.'  Some  preachers  are  in  the  habit  of  suddenly  low- 
ering the  voice  for  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  impoi-tance  of  some 
concluding  remark  more  deeply  felt.  Let  them  be  warned  against 
the  consequence  which  frequently  follows,  viz.,  that  of  becoming 
inaudible  except  to  the  nearest  listeners. 

*'  In  endeavoring  to  avoid  the  fault  of  concluding  sentences  in- 
audibly,  some  readers  and  speakers  fall  into  an  opposite  error. 
They  terminate  almost  every  sentence  with  the  upward  slide  of  the 
voice,  or  rising  inflection.  .  .  No  doubt  this  method  may  make 
the  concluding  words  better  heard,  but  this  object  is  not  effected 
without  injury  to  the  sense  of  the  passage,  and  pain  to  the  culti- 
vated ear  of  taste." 

Articulation  {days  an  immeuK  part  in  the  donudn  of  reading.  Articulation,  and  ar- 
ticulation alone,  gives  cleame8R,  energy,  passion,  and  force.  Snch  is  its  power  that  it  can 
even  overcome  deficiency  of  voice  in  the  presence  of  a  large  audience.  There  have  been 
actors  of  the  foremost  rank,  who  had  scarcely  any  voice.  Putier  had  no  voice.  Monvel, 
the  famous  Monvel,  not  only  had  no  voice,  he  had  no  teeth !  And  yet  no  one  ever  lost  a 
word  that  fell  from  his  lips ;  and  never  was  there  a  more  delightful,  mure  moving  artist 
than  he,  thanks  to  his  i»erfect  articulation.  The  best  reader  I  ever  knew  was  M.  An- 
drieux.  whow  voice  was  not  only  weak,  but  worn,  hoarse,  and  croaking.  Yet  his  perfect 
enunciation  triumphed  over  all  these  defects.— LKOOirv^. 

ii.  Emphasis  is  dependent  partly  npon  (a)  Stress,  but 
even  more  so  upon  (b)  Punctuation. 

(a)  Stress  may  be  used  (1)  for  Perspicuity,  or  (2)  for 
Power. 

There  are  two  principal  kinds  of  emphasis,  (1)  emphasis  of  sense, 
(2)  emphasis  of  force.     Emphasis  of  sense  is  that  emphasis  which 


Chap.  XXX.]  STRESS.  571 

marks  aiul  indicates  the  meaning  or  sense  of  the  sentence ;  and 
which  being  transferred  from  word  to  word  has  the  power  to 
rhange  the  particular  meaning  of  the  sentence.  In  other  words, 
it  is  the  placing  on  the  particular  word  which  carries  the  main 
l)oint  of  the  sentence,  or  member  of  the  sentence,  the  inflection 
due  to  such  sentence  or  member,  and  giving  weight  or  emphasis 
to  such  inflection  : — the  word  so  marked  and  distinguished  is 
called  the  emphatic  word. 

Thus,  Bid  you  reach  home  to-day?  Did  you  reach  home  to- 
day? etc. 

Emphasis  of  force  (or  it  might  be  called  Emphasis  of  feeling)  is 
that  emphasis  or  stress  which  a  speaker  uses  arbitrarily  to  add 
force  to  some  particular  word  or  phrase  ;  not  because  the  sense  or 
meaning  intended  to  be  conveyed  requires  it,  but  because  the 
force  of  his  own  feeling  dictates  it. — Vamdenhoff. 

( 1 )  Sentences  that  depend  for  their  meaning  upon 
the  selection  of  some  particular  word  for  stress  are  to  that 
e.xtent  ambiguous,  and  sliould  often  be  reconstructed  (com- 
pare page  xx). 

Ka7i  in  Chinese  signifies  at  the  same  time  the  roof  of  a  house,  a 
cellar,  well,  chamber,  bed  -  the  inflection  alone  determines  the 
meaning.  Roof  is  expressed  by  the  falling,  cellar  by  the  rising  in- 
flection. The  Chinese  note  accurately  the  depth  and  acuteness  of 
sound,  its  intei-vals,  and  its  intensity. 

We  can  say  "It  is  pretty,  this  little  dog,"  in  six  hundred  and 
seventy-five  diff'ercnt  ways.  Some  one  would  do  it  harm.  We 
say:  "This  little  dog  is  pretty,  do  not  harm  it."  "It  is  pretty 
because  it  is  so  little."  If  it  is  a  mischievous  or  vicious  dog,  we 
use  pretty  in  an  ironical  sense.  "  This  dog  has  bitten  my  hand. 
It  is  a  pretty  dog,  indeed."    Etc.— Dei^abte. 

(2)  Words  which  require  marked  stress  of  voice  to 
show  that  they  are  emphatic  should  be  avoided  in  speech, 
on  the  same  principle  that  italicised  words  are  avoided  in 
print,  and  gestures  are  avoided  in  conversation.  An  in- 
telligent person  should  be  able  so  to  construct  his  sen  ten- 


572  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

ces  that  the  position  of  each  word  will  indicate  its  relative 
importance.  To  itahcise  a  word,  to  thunder  it,  or  to  mark 
it  by  a  gesture,  is  like  writing  underneath  a  picture,  "  This 
is  not  a  cow,  hut  a  rosebud/'  The  picture  ouglit  to  be 
painted  accurately  enough  to  show  what  it  is  without  an 
inscription ;  the  sentence  ought  so  to  place  the  words  that 
their  force  is  inevitable. 

Sing-Songy  or  the  repetition  of  stress  at  regular  in- 
tervals, is  a  fatal  defect  in  prose  composition.  (See  chap- 
ter on  Rhythm,  Part  VI.) 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  school  methods  of  scanning 
poetry,  and  of  reading  prose  by  punctuation,  are  directly  produc- 
tive of  this  worst  and  most  prevailing  oratorical  taint  (sing-song). 
It  is  but  rarely  that  a  reader  of  poetry  can  be  found  whose  voice 
is  entirely  free  from  this  blemish ;  and  the  habit  of  reading  with  a 
rhythmical  regularity  is  speedily  extended  from  poetry  to  prose, 
so  that  the  expressive  irregularity  of  prosaic  rhythm  is  entirely 
lost  in  the  uniformity  of  time  to  which  the  reader's  voice  is  set. 
Like  the  pins  in  the  barrel  of  an  organ,  his  accents  come  precisely 
in  the  same  place  at  every  revolution  of  a  sentence,  striking  their 
emphasis,  at  one  turn,  upon  a  pronoun  or  a  conjunction,  and,  at 
another,  impinging  sonorously  on  an  article  or  an  expletive. 

'Tis  edncation  forms  the  common  mind ; 
Just  as  the  twig  is  bent,  the  tree^s  inclined. 

The  little  twigs  in  the  grammar-school  are  sedulously  bent  into 
the  barrel-organ  shape,  and  pegged  to  play  their  destined  tune  by 
the  systematic  teaching  of  the  school ;  and  when  the  tiny  twig- 
baiTel  has  swelled  into  a  full-grown  cylinder,  and  rolls  forth  its 
cadences  in  far-sounding  pitch,  the  old  pegs  are  still  there,  strik- 
ing the  old  chords  in  the  old  way. — Bell. 

(b)  Oral  Punctuation  is  not  only  different  from 
written  punctuation  (see  page  256),  but  often  directly  at 
variance  with  it. 

The  first  principle  of  accurate  punctuation  is  that  the  subject 


Chap.  XXX.]  PAUSES.  573 

and  preilicate  should  not  be  seimrated  by  a  grammatical  pause  ; 
the  first  principle  of  good  reading  is,  that  they  should  be  sei)aratcd 
by  a  marked  suspension  of  the  voice.  So  much  vahie  may  we 
attach  to  punctuation  as  a  guide  to  the  reader. — Halcombe. 

Rhetorical  punctuation  subdivides  for  the  taste,  the  judgment, 
and  the  ear,  and  regards  i)au8es  as  the  means  by  which  the  hearer 
may  follow  and  uudei-staud  the  reader  or  speaker,  and  the  latter  is 
enabled  at  such  pauses  or  rests  to  supply  his  lungs  with  air  by  the 
act  of  inspiration,  and  so  ensure  clear  tone  of  voice  and  distinct 
articulation  in  deliveiy.  Rhetorical  punctuation  is  a  system 
which  does  not  so  much  regard  the  actual  dm-ation  in  point  of 
time  of  the  various  pauses  introduced,  as  it  does  the  places  where, 
in  reading  or  speaking,  they  may  be  properly  and  eflfectively  in- 
troduced. 

Tlie  shortest  pause  is  necessarily  introduced  at  the  end  of  every 
oratorical  word  ;  the  middle  pause  at  the  end  of  any  distinct  part 
of  a  i>ropo8ition  ;  and  the  longest  pause  at  the  termination  of  an 
important  division  of  a  discourse.  The  rhetorical  sense,  not  the 
grammatical  expression,  determines  the  relative  situation  and 
length  of  each  pause. 

Knles  for  rhetorical  pause.  Pause  and  replenish  the 
lungs  with  breath : 

i.  After  the  nominative,  when  it  consists  of  several  words,  or  of 
one  important  word.  A  pause  after  a  pronoun  in  the  nominative 
case  is  admissible  only  when  it  is  emphatic. 

It.  Before  and  after  all  parenthetic,  explanatory,  and  interme- 
diate clauses. 

in.  After  words  in  apposition  or  in  opposition. 

tr.  Before  relative  pronouns. 

V.  Before  and  after  clauses  introduced  by  prepositions. 

vi.  Between  the  several  members  of  a  series. 

rti.  Before  all  conjunctions  ;  and  after  all  conjunctions  whicl 
introduce  important  words,  clauses,  or  sentences. 

rt'it.  Between  all  nouns  and  pronouns  that  are  nominatives  to  a 
▼orb,  or  that  are  governed  by  a  verb ;  between  all  adjeoUvea  (ex- 
cept the  last)  which  qualify  a  noun  ;  and  all  adverbs  (except  the 
last)  which  qualify  either  verbs,  adjectives,  or  adverbs. 


574  DELIVERY  [Part  V. 

iar.  Before  the  infinitiye  mood,  when  not  immediately  prc^t  .1.  .1 
by  a  modify iug  word. 

X.  Wherever  an  ellipsis  takes  place. 

xi.  Between  the  object  and  the  modifying  word  in  their  invert- 
ed order. 
•     xii.  Ctenerally,  before  and  after  emphatic  words. — Plumptre. 

There  is  a  line  in  **  The  Fair  Penitent"  which  for  many  years 
was  spoken  by  the  most  celebrated  actor  of  these  times  in  the 
following  manner : 

West  of  the  town— a  mile  among  the  ntdkm, 
Two  boon  ere  noon  to-morrow  I  expect  thee, 
Thy  dngle  arm  to  mine. 

It  is  a  challenge  given  by  Lothario  to  Horatio,  to  meet  him  at  a 
place  a  mile's  distance  from  the  town,  on  the  west  side,  well  known 
by  the  name  of  The  Bocks.  And  this  would  have  been  evident 
had  there  been  a  comma  after  the  word  mile ;  as : 

West  of  the  town  a  mile,  among  the  rod»,  etc 

Whereas,  by  making  the  pause  after  the  word  town,  and  join- 
ing mile  to  the  latter  i>ai-t. 

West  of  the  town — a  mile  among  the  rocks — 

the  ridiculous  idea  is  conveyed  that  they  had  a  mile's  length  of 
rocks  to  scramble  over ;  wliich  made  Quin  sarcastically  obsei*ve  that 
they  should  run  great  risk  of  breaking  their  shins  before  they 
reached  the  appointed  place  of  combat. — SHEmDAN. 

The  tongue  punctnate'*  as  well  as  the  pen. 

One  day  Samson,  sitting  at  his  desk,  sees  himself  approached  by  a  yonng  man  appa 
rvntly  pretty  well  satisfied  with  himself. 

"  Yon  wish  to  take  reading  lessons,  sir?^ 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  Samson.*' 

"  Have  yon  had  some  practice  in  reading  aloud?" 

"  O  yea,  Monsieur  Samson,  I  have  often  recited  whole  passages  from  Comeille  and 
Molidre." 

"  In  public  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur  Samson." 

"  With  success  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes,  Monsieur,  I  think  I  may  flatter  myself  so  far.'* 

'•Take  up  that  book,  please.  It  is  '  La  Fontaine's  Fables.'  Open  it  at  *  The  Oak  and 
the  Reed.'    Let  me  hear  you  take  a  turn  at  a  line  or  two." 

The  pupil  b^ins  : 

"The  Oak  one  day,  said  to  the  Reed " 


Chap.  XXX.]  PAUSES.  575 

"  That's  enough,  sir :  yon  don't  know  anything  abont  reading !  *' 

"  It  is  becaase  I  don't  know  much,  Monoipur  Samson,"  repliefl  the  pupil,  a  little  net- 
tled ;  *'  it  iH  preciwly  bocaose  I  don't  know  much  that  I  have  come  to  yoa  for  lenaons. 
But  I  don't  exactly  comprehend  how  from  my  manner  of  reading  a  aiugle  vers©—" 

"  Read  the  Ime  again,  sir." 

He  reads  it  again  : 

•'  The  Oak  one  day,  aaid  to  the  Reed " 

"  There !    Yon  can't  read  !     I  told  you  so ! " 

"  But " 

"But,'^  interrupts  Samson,  cold  and  dry;  "but  why  do  you  join  the  adverb  to  the 
noun  rather  than  to  the  verb?  What  kind  of  an  oak  is  an  oak  one  day  ?  No  kind  at  all  I 
There  in  no  snch  tree  !  Why,  then,  do  you  say,  '  The  oak  one  day,  said  to  the  reed  ? ' 
This  ia  the  way  it  should  go  :  '  The  oak,  one  day  aaid  to  the  reed.'  Tou  understand,  of 
ooaraet" 

"Certainly  I  do,"  replied  the  other,  a  new  light  breaking  on  him.  "It  seems  as  If 
there  should  be  an  invisible  comma  after  Oak." 

"  Yoo  are  right,  sir,"  continues  the  master.  "Every  passnge  has  a  double  set  of 
punctuation  marks,  one  visible,  the  other  invisible ;  one  is  the  printer's  work,  the  other 
the  reader's." 

*'  The  reader's  ?     Does  he  also  punctuate  ?  " 

"  Certainly  he  does,  quite  independently,  too,  of  the  printer's  point',  though  it  must 
be  acknowlctlged  that  sometimes  both  coincide.  By  a  certain  cadonci*<l  silence  the  reader 
maiks  his  period  ;  by  a  half  silence  his  comuii ;  by  a  certain  accent,  an  inti-rrogation ;  by 
a  certain  tone,  an  exclamation.  And  I  must  assure  you  that  it  is  exclusively  on  the 
■kilfnl  distribution  of  these  insensible  points  that  not  only  the  interest  of  the  story,  but 
•ctoally  iU  clearnevs  ita  oomprehensibility,  altogether  depend."— I.KOoov£ 

iii.  Gesture  is  the  element  of  delivery  which  meets 
most  criticism,  and  in  which  instruction  is  most  neglected. 
Yet  oratory  has  not  reached  its  highest  form  (see  page 
534)  when  the  speaker's  feelings  do  not  com^pel  him  to  use 
gesture. 

The  disgnst  excited  on  the  one  hand  by  awkward  and  ungrace- 
ful motions,  and  on  the  other  by  studied  gesticulation,  has  led  to 
the  general  disuse  of  action  altogether,  and  has  induced  men  to 
form  the  habit  (for  it  certainly  is  a  formed  habit)  of  keeping  them- 
selves quite  still,  or  nearly  so,  when  speaking.  This  is  supposed 
to  be,  and  perhaps  is,  the  more  rational  and  dignified  way  of 
speaking ;  but  so  strong  is  the  tendency  to  indicate  yehement  in- 
ternal emotion  by  some  kind  of  outward  gesture,  that  those  who 
do  not  encourage  or  allow  themselves  any,  fall  unconsciously 
into  some  awkward  trick  of  swinging  the  body,  folding  a  paper, 
twisting  a  siring,  and  the  like.    Of  one  of  the  Roman  orators  it 


.^7^>  DELTVl'RY.  [Part  V. 

was  satirically  romarketl  (on  account  of  liis  imving  this  habit)  that 
he  muHt  have  learned  to  Ki)eak  in  a  boat. 

The  prejudice  agaiust  gestuix)  arises  from  its  fre- 
quent use  as  a  trick  of  manuer  instead  of  as  an  uncon- 
trollable expression  of  feeling. 

Tliat  the  lumd  may  deliver  a  truth  in  gesture,  which  the  voice 
is  enunciating,  is  most  true.  But  it  is  just  as  tnie  that  the  hand 
is,  so  to  speak,  the  mere  handmaid  of  the  voice,  and  should  never 
ambitiously  aspire  to  a  parallel  importance.  It  is  the  work  of  the 
hand  in  gesture,  not  to  duplicate  the  whole  work  of  the  voice,  but 
odIj  at  necessary  points  to  reinforce  the  vocal  utterance.  Now,  as 
not  every  point  which  is  susceptible  of  gesture  is  necessary^  to  seek 
to  add  force  by  gesture  is  simply  to  weaken  the  effect  of  all  ne- 
cessary gesture.  CJesture,  like  all  high  appliances  of  force,  must 
be  charily  used  or  it  becomes    powerless  from   mere  common- 


The  great  gesture  province  lies  where  the  fact  or  the  thought, 
which  has  all  along  been  burning  before  the  glance  of  the  orator, 
is  to  be  squarely  brought  out  and  driven  home.  It  is  false  elocu- 
tion, then,  to  anticipate  or  overshadow  emphatic  gesture,  by  any 
noticeable  display  of  that  which  is  purely  subordinate,  descriptive 
gesture.  It  is  poor  tactics  to  weaken  the  main  battle  by  a  too  lav- 
ish development  of  the  skirmishing  lines. 

And  once  more,  all  gesture  is  but  an  outward,  and  at  best  im- 
perfect, symbolling  of  the  inward  emotion.  Almost  any  gesture, 
opiX)sed  to  mle  though  it  be,  is  truthful  and  effective,  if  it  only 
be  spontaneously  shot  forth  by  the  uncontrollable  inward  energy.  No 
gesture,  however  artistically  fashioned,  and  with  whatever  nice  ex- 
actness overlaid  upon  the  vocal  delivery,  has  in  it  any  ti-uth,  beauty, 
or  power,  if  it  be  merely  the  studied  product  of  the  art,  and  not 
the  natural  outbiu-st  of  the  inward  force. 

Hence,  we  do  not  think  it  extravagant  to  say,  that  no  true  elocu- 
tion for  any  j^erson  can  be  taught  except  upon  the  basis  of  simple, 
direct,  earnest  composition.  Teach  the  pupil,  first,  to  write  it  as  he 
thinks  and  feels  it,  and  then  teach  him  its  natuml  and  effective  de- 
livery, as  thus  thought  and  felt,  and  you  will  hit  upon  an  enun- 
ciation and  gesture  that  know  how  to  do  an  honest  work,  and,  still 


Chap.  XXX )  GESTURES.  577 

better,  know  how  to  keep  their  proper  place.  Aside  from  this, 
ordinary  instruction  in  either  can  bo  useful,  not  as  teaching  the 
pupil  what  he  is  actually  to  use,  or  just  where  lie  is  to  use  it,  but 
as  a  means  of  habituating  him,  in  a  general  way,  to  an  eiisier 
and  more  natural  use  of  his  organs  and  powers ;  so  that,  when- 
ever the  true  impulse  comes,  and  either  bursts  out  into  action, 
what  is  si)ontaueous  and  earnest  may  not  be  crude,  angular,  and 
ill-fitted. — New  England  Journal  of  Education. 

Gestures  have  been  divided  into  three  classes: 

First,  gestures  of  ptocc,  which  answer  the  question,  where? 
Secondly,  gestures  of  imitation,  which  answer  the  question,  Jww  t 
Thirdly,  gestures  of  einpJuisiSy  which  show  the  degree  of  the  speak- 
er's earnestness. 

Suggestions  as  to  the  use  of  gestures  have  been 
made  uii  good  authority,  as  follows : 

(1)  Conceive  as  >'ividly  as  possible  the  things  you  would  locate, 
and  j-ieKl  to  the  impulse  of  nature  to  glance  or  point  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  they  aie  imagined  to  be. 

(2)  Conceive  as  vividly  as  possible  the  action  or  scene  described, 
and  yield  to  the  imi)ulse  of  nature  to  imitate,  being  careful  always 
to  "overstej)  not  the  motlesty  of  nature." 

(3)  Yield  to  the  inclination  to  strike  or  nod  or  bow  for  emphasis, 
l>eing  careful  "in  the  veiy  torrent,  temj^est,  and  whirlwind  of  i>as- 
eion,  to  acquire  and  beget  a  temperance  that  may  give  it  smooth- 
ness.*' 

(4)  Avoid  gestures  for  which  you  can  give  no  reason. 

The  Fundamental  Rule  for  gesture  is  that  it 
must  precede  tho  vcM-hal  e.xpression  of  the  thought  it  illus- 
trates. 

Oestnre  must  always  precede  8iK>c(*h.  In  fact,  speech  is  re- 
flected expression.  It  must  come  after  gesture,  whicli  is  {mrallel 
with  the  impression  reoeivetl.  Nature  incites  a  movement,  si)eech 
names  the  movement.  Speech  is  only  the  title,  the  label  of  wliat 
gesture  has  anticipated.    Speech  comes  only  to  confirm  what  the 


^78  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

audience  already  comprehend.  Speech  is  given  for  naming  things. 
Gesture  asks  the  question  "What?"  and  speech  answers.  Ges- 
ture after  speech  would  be  absurd.  Let  the  word  come  after  the 
gesture  and  there  will  be  no  pleonasm. 

Priority  of  gesture  may  be  thus  explained.  First  a  movement 
responds  to  the  sensation  ;  then  a  gesture,  which  depicts  the  emo- 
tion, res]M)nds  to  the  imagination  which  colors  the  sensation.  Then 
comes  the  judgment  which  approves.  Finally,  we  consider  the 
audience,  and  this  view  of  the  audience  suggests  the  ajjpropiiate 
expression  for  that  which  has  already  been  expressed  by  gesture. — 

DEIiBABTB. 

How  far  gesture  should  be  carried  depends  upon  tlie 
speakers  power  of  dramatic  feeling  and  expression.  Few 
would  interpret  gesture  as  minutely  as  Delsarte,  who 
makes  distinctions  like  the  following : 

•'  The  deep  voice  with  the  eyes  open  expresses  worthy  things. 
The  deep  voice  with  the  eyes  closed  expresses  odious  things. 
.  .  .  We  understand  the  laugh  of  an  indi\'idnal ;  if  upon  e 
long,  he  has  made  a  sorrj'  jest ;  if  upon  a  long,  he  has  nothing  in 
his  heart,  and  most  likely  nothing  in  his  head ;  if  upon  a  short, 
the  laugh  is  forced.  0,  a  long,  and  oo  are  the  only  normal  expres- 
sions. Thus  every  one  is  measured,  numbered,  weighed.  There 
is  reason  in  every  thing,  even  when  unknown  to  man. 

"We  can  judge  of  the  sincerity  of  the  friend  who  grasps  our 
hand.  If  he  holds  the  thumb  inwaid  and  j^endent,  it  is  a  fatal 
sign ;  we  no  longer  trust  him.  To  pray  with  the  thumbs  inward 
and  swaying  to  and  fro,  indicates  a  lack  of  sacred  fei-vor.  It  is 
a  corpse  who  prays.  If  you  pray  with  the  arms  extended  and  the 
fingei-s  bent,  there  is  reason  to  fear  that  you  adore  Plutus.  If 
you  embi-ace  me  without  elevating  your  shoulders,  you  are  a 
Judas." 

Mimicry  is,  however,  below  the  dignity  of  the  plat- 
form (see  page  131) ;  and  descriptive  gesture  must  be 
used  with  moderation.  Many  a  speaker  who  is  more  cor- 
rect in  his  interpretation,  is  scarcely  less  ridiculous  in  his 


Chaf.xxx]  gestures.  570 

gestures  than  the  boyj  who  lifted  the  skirts  of  his  coat,  as 
he  declaimed : 

Soon  Rs  the  eTening  KhadeH  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  np  the  wondrouR  tale. 

Finally,  gesture,  as  an  art,  should  be  so  practised  as 
to  be  imcouscious. 

The  orator  should  not  even  think  of  what  he  is  doing.  The 
thing  should  have  been  so  much  studied  that  all  would  seem  to 
flow  of  itself  from  the  fountain. — Delsabte. 

This  principle  has  been  carried  so  far  that  a  hesitating 
awkwardness  is  sometimes  assumed,  to  convey  the  impres- 
sion of  exteinporaneousness. 

Mr.  DisraeU  hesitated  much,  says  the  London  Truth,  like  Ser- 
jeant Ballantine.  Before  biinging  out  some  telling  and  well-pre- 
pared adjective,  he  would  "er-er-er"  for  a  minute  or  two,  so  as 
to  make  his  hearers  8upiK)se  that  he  was  choosing  between  half 
a  dozen  words.  And  yet  many  of  Mr.  Disraeli's  most  effective 
speeches  were  leanied  by  heart.  He  would  give  tjiem  to  the 
Times  reporter  before  they  were  delivered,  and  although  the  re- 
porter followed  the  speech,  i>encil  in*  hand,  he  seldom  had  to  alter 
a  single  word,  so  excellent  was  Mr.  Disraeli's  memory. 

In  ivadfnf;  your  own  (Uaconn««,  jonr  very  defecti)  are  yonr  flrrt  requii-ite«  of  raoorn. 
Thoy  form  a  portion  of  your  own  individnality.  A  single  in«tance  will  make  my  mean 
liic  clear.  Jiileo  Bandcan  naked  me  to  reiid  in  pablic  a  charming  reply  which  he  had  writ- 
t«n  to  Camille  Doncet.  "  I  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  replied  I.  "Why  not?  '  he 
naked.  "  yoo  read  no  ninch  better."  "  Yea,"  was  my  answer,  **  but  that  particular  piece  of 
yo'trs  I  should  not  rend  half  »o  well ;  yonr  diKoumc  is  youn>«lf .  In  reading  it  I  certainly 
should  not  commit  the  faults  that  yon  will  commit,  I  should  not  dr  p  my  breath  at  the 
last  syllable.  I  should  try  to  bring  out  the  strong  points  with  higher  relief.  Burthat 
unstudied  attitude  of  yours  I  ooald  never  catch,  nor  that  indolent  voice,  nor  that  touch- 
me-not  air,  nor  that  easy-going  indifference,  all  of  which  ontpplete  the  effect  of  yonr  words 
by  producing  your  personality- -which  are  so  charming  in  you,  because  they  are  ao  de- 
lightfully dWnraU  but  which  would  be  abaolntely  displeasing  in  me  as  ton  unnatural,  too 
atodiad,  and  too  far-fetche<l.  Your  disooarae  ia  a  plump  disconrxe.  blooming  and  blond : 
1  ahonld  md  it  like  a  man  who  is  thin,  aaHow,  and  dark.  Ilcad  it  yourvelf ."  Bandeau 
belierad  one,  and  his  incoen  abowcd  him  that  I  wa*  quite  right.  But  if  he  had  rend  any 
oiM  •lae*!  dlHoane  in  Um  sum  ikfim  m  b«  ra«d  hi*  own  he  wonld  be  a  tnUtor.— Liooirri. 


580  DELrV'ERY.  [Pabt  V. 


THB  ART  OF  READING. 

The  following  extracts  from  the  celebrated  treatise  of 
M.  Legouve,  already  often  quoted,  will  suggest  how  truly 
delivery  is  an  art  worthy  to  be  mastered. 

Let  UH  rappoM  a  sdMUur  who  is  mechaokmlly  perfect.  Pnwtloe  hM  made  his  rokie 
oTeo,  agreeable,  and  fleziUe.  He  thorooghly  onderetiuida  the  art  of  blending  bis  mediam, 
upper,  and  lower  tooeii.  He  breathes  impwoeptibly.  He  proDoanoes  distinctly.  His 
articulatiiJii  is  shar|)  and  clear.  AU  faoltn  in  his  pcononciation— if  be  had  any— have  been 
remedied.  He  ponctnatea  as  he  readSL  His  ddivery  is  neither  harried,  jerky,  nor  drawl- 
ing ;  and,  what  is  very  rare,  he  Barer  drops  his  flnal  qrUables,  so  that  every  phraw  is 
roand  and  firm. 

Is  he  a  finished  reader?  No ;  he  is  only  a  oonreot  reader.  He  can,  without  tiring  him- 
self or  his  hearers,  read  a  political  report,  a  scientific  speech,  a  financial  Htaicnicnt,  or  a 
legal  doonment  All  this  is  rery  well ;  reading  is  thtu  broasbt  to  boar  upon  almo8t  all  the 
liberal  profcsniqna,  so  that  it  may  rightly  be  ranked  umler  the  bead  of  UMful  knowledge. 

But  it  does  not  yet  deserve  the  noble  name  <A  art.  To  be  worthy  of  that,  it  moKt  ex- 
tend to  workR  of  art ;  most  b-Hwme  the  interpreter  of  the  mastc-pioces  of  genius ;  only, 
in  that  case,  correctness  will  not  sofflce— talent  is  also  requifJte. 

From  La  Fontaine's  works  I  first  learned  to  read.  My  master  was  a  very  clever  man, 
almoikt  too  clever  in  point  of  fact.  He  had  a  charming  voice,  which  he  used  to  ex  exs; 
and  he  gave  me  two  kinils  of  lesions,  both  equally  beneficial  to  me,  and  by  which  others 
may  profit  as  well  as  I ;  he  taught  me  what  a  reader  should  do,  and  what  he  should  avoid 
doing. 

On  one  occasion,  when  he  was  to  read  some  of  La  Fontaine's  fables  at  the  Ck)nserva- 
tory — among  th^m  "  The  Oak  and  the  Reed  "—he  invited  me  to  come  and  hear  him,  flay- 
ing :  "  You  shall  see  how  a  retuler  who  knows  his  trade  presents  himself  before  a  large 
audience.  * 

*'  I  begin  by  glancing  around  the  room ;  my  look,  all-embraeing,  and  accompanied  by 
a  very  slight  smile,  must  be  pleasant;  its  object  is  to  collect  the  suffrages  and  sympathy 
of  the  audience  in  advance,  and  to  fasten  all  eyes  upon  myself.  I  then  make  a  little  noise 
in  my  throat— hem !  hem !— as  if  about  to  b^n.  But  not  at  all,  not  yet !  No  !  I  wait 
for  perfect  silence  to  be  established.  I  then  extend  my  arm,  my  right  arm,  curving  ray 
elbow  gracefully- the  elbow  is  the  soul  of  the  arm  !  Interest  and  attention  are  excited : 
I  give  the  title.  I  give  it  simply,  without  striving  for  effect — I  merely  act  the  part  of  a 
play-bill.  I  then  begin  :  *  The  Oa*,'— my  voice  full  and  round,  gesture  broad  and  some- 
what bombastic !  I  desire  to  paint  a  giant,  who  stands  with  his  head  in  the  clouds  and 
his  fget  in  the  kingdom  of  the  dead. 

"  '  The  Oak,  one  day,  said  to  the  Reed ' 

•*  Oh !  scarcely  a  morsel  of  voice  for  the  word  '  reed.'  Make  it  as  small  ap  yoti  can, 
jjoor  leaflet;  mark  its  insignificance  by  yonr  tone ;  despise  it  thoroughly,  look  askance  at 
it !     All  this  very  low  and  faint — as  if  yon  fww  it  at  a  distance !  " 

Yon  langh !  and  you  are  quite  right.  And  yon  will  laugh  still  more,  when  I  tell  you 
that  in  the  fable  of  "The  Monkey  and  the  Cat,"  at  the  lines— 

"  One  day,  our  two  plunderers  watched  by  the  fire 
Rich,  ripe  nuts  a-roasting,  with  looks  of  desire  " — 


Chap.  XXX.J  READING.  681 

M.  FebrA  ndled  the  r'»  to  imitate  the  chehtnutB  crackling  before  the  ftre !  Yes,  all  this  in 
funny,  U  absord  I  And  yet,  at  bottom,  it  is  correct,  profound,  and  true.  It  is  true  that  a 
reader  should  never  begin  the  instant  he  stands  before  his  audience;  true,  that  he  should 
exchange  communicating  glances  with  his  listeners:  true,  that  ho  should  give  his  title 
clearly  and  simply;  true,  finally,  that  he  should  n-prescnt  and,  as  it  were,  paint  his 
various  characters  by  the  varying  tones  of  his  voice — and  if  we  sui>pn-i>s  the  exaggeration 
and  affectation  resultant,  we  have  an  excellent  and  most  useful  lesson,  especially  in  regard 
u>  La  Fontaine.  A  general  impresnion,  now  passed  into  a  principle,  declare!^  that  his  fables 
are  to  be  read  simply.  Certainly  I  but  what  do  we  mean  by  sinicly  ?  Du  we  mean— let  us 
be  plain— do  we  mean  prosily  ?  If  so,  I  say.  No  I  a  thousaud  times.  No !  That  is  not  the 
way  to  read  La  Fontaine;  that  is  disfiguring  him.  It  Ih  betraying,  not  translating  him. 
La  Fontaine  is  the  most  complex  of  all  French  poets.  No  other  poet  unites  in  himself  so 
many  extremes.  No  poetry  is  so  rich  in  oppositions.  His  nickname  of  good  fellow,  and 
his  reputation  for  simplicity,  deceive  us.  His  character  as  a  man  leads  us  astray  in  re- 
gard to  his  character  as  a  poet.  Pen  in  hand,  he  is  the  most  wily,  ingenious,  1  may  say 
foxiest,  of  writers.  With  I>a  Fontaine,  every  effect  is  calculated,  premeditated,  and 
worked  for ;  and  at  thi  same  time,  by  a  marvellous  faculty,  every  thing  is  harmonious 
and  natural.  All  is  artistic:  nothing  artificial.  A  line,  a  woid,  sufflces  to  open  vast 
horizons.  He  is  an  incomparable  painter,  unrivalled  narrator.  His  character-drawing  is 
almost  equal  to  that  of  Moli^rc  himself.  And  can  we  suppose  that  all  this  may  and  can 
be  rendered  simply  and  straightforwardly  ?  Heaven  forbid  I  Deep  study  slonc  confers 
Dpon  a  reader  the  power  of  understanding  and  explaining  even  in  imperfect  fashion  such 
profound  art. 

Take,  Cor  example,  the  fable  of  "  The  Heron  :  '* 

"  One  day — no  matter  when  or  where — 
A  long-legged  heron  chanced  to  fare, 
With  his  long,  sharp  beak 
Helve<l  on  his  long,  lank  neck." 
Erery  one  most  feel  the  triple  repetition  of  the  word  "  long"  to  be  a  picturesque  effect, 
which  most  be  duly  given  by  the  reader. 

"  He  came  to  a  river's  brink— 
The  water  was  dear  and  still." 
Tbeae  two  lines  cannot  be  read  In  one  and  the  same  way ;  the  flmt,  simple  narrative  in 
style,  must  be  simply  given.    The  second  is  dcncripttve ;  the  image  must  be  visible  on  the 
readai^  lips,  aa  on  the  writer's  pen. 

"  The  can>  an«l  the  pike  there  at  will 
Porsueil  their  silent  fun. 
Turning  np  ever  and  anon 
A  golden  ride  to  the  snn  I " 
Oh !  yon  donH  know  yontr  tnul*  tm  a  reader  if  yonr  gay.  Uvely,  iportive  tone  doea  r  * 
paint  the  antks  of  this  (roUoMMne  ooaple  I 

**  With  eaae  the  heron  might  have  made 
Qraat  proAta  in  the  flnhing  trade ; 
80  near  cane  the  soaly  fry 
Thejr  might  b*  CMght  by  the  ytaut  hy.** 
Simple  narrative  etyle. 

"  But  he  thought  he  better  might 
Wait  fur  a  ^hanwr  aupetite.** 


5^2  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

lUrk  tbU  I  bere  w«  xsi  an  inmghi  into  the  Urd*s  oharaoter  I    The  heron  ia  a  (wnROAlist, 
•n  epicure,  nther  thui  m  ghiUoo.    Appetite  Is  a  pIcMora  to  thow  of  dainty  Rtomach. 
Gire  the  word  app«m$  that  accent  of  eartefwcitinn  always  nnued  by  the  thoaglit  or  sight 
of  anjr  thing  pleaauit ;  we  shaU  see  diraotlj  ham  useful  thi«  Rlight  hint  will  bo. 
"  For  he  lived  by  rule,  and  could  not  eat, 
Kzoapt  at  his  hours,  the  bent  of  meat." 

Second  deacriptiTe  Terse.    The  heron  to  an  important  personage,  and  respects  himself 
accordingly. 

"  .\non  his  i4[»petite  returned  once  mor&'* 
The  heron  to  quite  satiaflcd. 

**  Approaohing  thai  again  the  shore. 
He  saw  KNne  tewdi  taking  their  lei^M, 
Kow  and  than,  tnm  the  lowest  deepn.'' 
A  perfect  picture  I  an  admirable  stann  !     It  expreeses  that  ntmantic  feeling  which  all  of 
un  have  experienced  in  Ashing,  when  a  fish  rises  slowly  through  the  watery  veil,  faint  and 
▼ague  at  first,  but  growing  eTer  more  distinct,  until  it  leaps  to  the  surface !    Paint  all 
thto  with  joor  Toioe  I 

"  With  as  dainty  a  taste  as  Horace's  rat. 
He  turned  away  from  such  food  as  that.*^ 
The  character-drawing  goes  on. 

"  What !  tench  for  a  heron  ?    Poh ! 
I  scorn  the  thought,  and  let  them  go." 
Hark  the  A  in  heron  well ;  dwell  on  it^make  it  as  prominent  nu  hiu  own  long  legs. 
"  The  tench  refused,  there  came  a  gudgeon. 
'  Far  all  that,'  said  the  bird,  '  I  trudge  on.' " 
Here  he  laughs  a  laugh  of  scorn  I 

"  I'll  ne'er  ope  my  beak,  so  the  gfods  please. 
For  such  menu  little  fishes  as  these. 
He  did  it  for  lew ; 
For  it  came  to  pass 
That  not  another  fish  could  he  sec ; 
And  at  last,  so  hungry  was  he," — 
Hungry  !     Do  you  see  the  difference  now  between  this  word  and  "  appetite?"    Do  you 
think  La  Fontaine  used  this  neat,  sharp  little  phrase  by  mere  chance  ?    No  longer  an  epi- 
cure, the  very  word  is  brief,  pressing,  and  importunate  as  the  want  it  expresses !     Give 
all  this  with  your  voice,  and  also  depict  the  sudden  ending  of  the  tale,  scornful  and  sum- 
mary as  a  decree  of  fate : 

"  That  he  thought  it  of  great  avail 
To  find  on  the  bank  a  single  snail !  " 

READING  AS  A  MEANS  OP  CRITICISM. 

After  listening  attentively  to  my  thoughts  and  ideas  on  this  subject,  Sainte-Beuve 
said  :  "By  your  reckoning,  then,  a  skilful  reader  is  a  skilful  critic." 

"To  be  sure,"  said  I,  "you  are  closer  to  the  truth  than  yon  guessed  ;  for  in  what, 
indeed,  does  the  reader's  talent  lie,  if  not  in  rendering  all  the  beauties  <if  the  works  which 
he  interprets?  To  render  them  proi>erly.  he  must  of  course  underbtnnd  them.  But  the 
astonishing  thing  is,  that  it  is  his  very  effort  to  render  them  well  which  gives  him  a 


Chap.  XXX.  ]  READING.  583 

clearer  oomprehenidon  of  them.    Reading  aloud  girefl  a  power  of  analysis  which  silent 
reading  can  never  know." 

Sainte-Beave  then  asked  me  to  give  him  an  example  to  illastrate  my  meaning ;  and  I 
qaoted  Racine's  famous  speech  on  Comeille,  which  containf>  one  passage  specially  re- 
markable, where  he  draws  a  comparison  between  the  French  theatre  before  and  after 
Comeille.  I  had  often  read  this  passage  to  myself,  and  admired  it  much  ;  baton  attempt- 
ing to  read  it  aloud,  I  encountered  difficulties  which  surprised  me  and  gave  me  cause  to 
reflect.  The  second  part  struck  me  as  heavy,  and  almost  imposuible  to  render  well. 
Compoeod  of  seventeen  lines,  it  yet  forms  but  a  single  phrase  I  Not  a  breathing- place  ! 
Nut  a  period,  colon,  or  even  hcmi-colon  !  nothing  but  commas,  with  clause  sncoeeding 
i-lause,  prulon^dng  the  sense  just  aa  you  deem  it  complete,  and  forcing  you  to  follow  it, 
nantlng  for  breath,  through  ail  its  endless  mazes  I  I  reached  the  end,  gasping,  but 
thoughtful.  Why,  I  (lucried,  did  Racine  write  so  long  and  labored  a  phmse?  Instinct- 
ively, my  eye  turned  to  the  first  part  of  the  fragment.  What  did  I  we  ?  A  jwrfect  con- 
trast I  Seven  sentences  in  nine  lines  I  Kxclanialion  points  everjwhcre  !  Not  a  single 
verb  I  A  disjointed,  jerky  style  1  All  was  fragmentary  and  broken  1  I  uttered  a  cry  of 
joy ;  light  dawned  upon  me !  Desiring  to  express  the  two  states  of  the  drama,  he  did 
more  than  describe,  he  painted  them  in  words.  To  represent  what  he  himself  calls  the 
chaotic  stage  of  the  dramatic  poem,  he  employed  a  violent,  abrupt,  and  inartistic  style. 
To  give  a  perfect  picture  of  dramatic  art  as  Comeille  made  it,  he  imagined  a  long  and 
well-turned  period,  harmonious  and  concordant, — similar,  in  fact,  in  its  labored  arrange- 
ment to  Ck>raeille'B  own  tragedies,—"  Rodogune  "  and  *'  Polyeucte,"— in  the  skilful  com- 
bination of  situations  and  characters. 

This  clew  once  gained,  I  took  up  the  book,  and  re-read  the  fragment  Let  any  one 
read  it  accordingly,  and  judge  for  himself  :— 

"  In  what  a  wretched  condition  was  the  French  stage  when  Comeille  began  his  la- 
bors! What  disorder  1  What  irregularity  I  No  taste,  no  knowledge  of  true  dramatic 
beauty.  Authors  as  ignorant  as  their  audience,  their  themes  for  the  most  part  extrava- 
gant and  improbable, — no  morals,  no  characters ;  the  style  of  delivery  even  more  vicious 
than  the  action,  miserable  puns  and  witticisms  forming  the  chief  ornament ;  in  a  word, 
every  rule  of  art,  and  indeed  of  decency  and  propriety,  violated. 

"  In  this  infancy,  or  rather  this  chaotic  state,  of  the  dramatic  poem  in  France,  Cor- 
iieille,  having  long  sought  the  right  road,  and  straggled,  if  I  may  venture  to  say  ao, 
nirainat  the  bad  taste  of  his  age,  finally,  inspired  by  rare  genius  and  aided  by  his  reading 
of  antique  literature,  produced  upon  the  scene  reason,  but  reason  accompanied  by  all  the 
l>omp  and  splendor  of  which  the  French  language  is  oafMble,  brought  the  wonderful  and 
the  probable  into  harmony,  and  left  far  behind  him  all  his  rivals,  most  of  whom,  despair- 
ing of  erer  kMpinit  pace  with  him,  and  fearing  to  dispute  the  fnize  with  him,  confined 
themseivee  to  impogning  the  plandiU  awarded  him.  and  vainly  strove,  by  their  words 
and  foolish  critidsms.  to  depredate  a  merit  which  they  oooM  not  equal.'' 

I  think  this  proof  deoiUv««,  this  demonstration  inefutoble  It  is  evident  that  the  ex- 
triMt  aesnmes  an  entirely  novel  aspect  when  read  aloud.  New  light  falls  upon  it,  and  the 
aothoi^i  ttMWght  is  made  manifest.  Shall  I  n\A  that  the  very  dlfllmlty  of  rvading  this 
liasaage  makes  it  an  excellent  leaonT  I  know  nothing  hanler,  and  therefore  mora 
profitable,  than  to  rarry  to  a  soeueatful  <4oae  this  terrible  srvcntocn  lina-kmt  santanoa, 
withaatooea.stoppiBgbyth»way,  wtthoofc  aeeming  fatlgoml.  always  marking  by  year 
inlleotiona  that  the  aaaaa  is  not  eompMe,  and  Anally  unrolling  the  whole  majestic  phrase 
in  all  its  amplitade  and  anperb  anpplsassa.  My  studies  as  a  reader  were  Tcry  nacfal  to 
me  that  day  :  an<t  I  inwanlly  thanked  the  art  which,  having  gtvoi  maa  tr 
ing  of  this  fine  fragment,  allowed  me  to  reveal  it  to  others. 


584  DELIVERY.  [Part  V. 

Bat  every  medal  has  ita  reverse ;  and  reading  aload  has  itediiiillasions.  If  it  teachec 
US  to  admire,  it  also  teaches  uh  to  discriminate.  Sainte  Beuve  was  right :  a  reader  is  s 
critio,  a  judge  1 — a  judfre  to  whom  many  hidden  defects  are  revealed.  How  many  sad 
dlsooreries  I  have  made  in  this  way  I  How  many  bvM^cs  aiid  anthers  whom  I  admired, — 
whom  others  still  admire, — failed  to  resist  this  terrible  prot^ !  We  my  that  a  thing  stares 
UH  in  the  face ;  we  may,  with  equal  justice,  say  that  it  strikes  onr  ear.  U'lie  eye  runs 
over  the  page,  skips  teiiious  bits,  glides  over  dangerous  spots  I  But  the  ear  hears  every 
thing!  The  ear  makes  no  cuts !  Tbe  oar  is  delicate,  Hen»jtive,  and  clairvoyant  to  a  de- 
gree laoonoeivable  by  the  eye.  A  word  which,  glanrcd  at,  pas  eil  nnnuticcd,  assames 
vA«t  proportions  when  read  aloud.  A  phmse  which  bnrely  ruffled,  now  diKfni-ts  you. 
Thi*  greater  the  sise  of  the  audience,  the  more  quick -sighted  the  reader  becomoM.  An 
electric  current  is  at  once  established  between  reader  and  audience,  which  becomes  a 
means  of  mutual  instruction.  The  reader  feeache*  himself  while  teaching  others.  He 
neetis  not  to  be  wsmed  by  their  mnrmnrs  or  signs  of  impatience:  their  very  silence 
speaks  to  him ;  he  reads  their  thoughts,  foresees  that  a  certain  passsge  will  shock,  must 
shock  them.  long  before  he  reaches  it ;  it  seems  as  if  his  criti<-al  faculties,  routed  and  set 
in  motion  by  this  formidable  eontaot  with  the  public,  attained  a  certain  power  of  divi- 
nation 1 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Delivery. 

Necessity  ok  study,  p.  562. 
The  opening  sentences,  p.  565. 
Points  requiring  e»pecud  attention  : 
i.  Pitch,  p.  566. 

a.  The  loudness,  p.  566. 

Unnecessary  loudness,  p.  567. 

b.  The  final  words,  p.  570. 
ii.  Emphasis,  p.  570. 

a.  Stress,  p.  570. 

1.  For  perspicuity,  p.  571. 

2.  For  power,  p.  571. 

Sing-Song,  p.  572. 

b.  Oral  punctuation,  p.  572. 
Rvles: 

i.  Nominatives,  p.  573. 

ii.  Parenthetic  clauses,  p.  573. 
iii.  Words  in  apposition,  p.  573. 
iv.  Relative  pronouns,  p.  573. 

y.  Clauses  introduced  by  prepositions,  p.  573. 


Chap.  XXX. J  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  586 

yi.  Members  of  a  series,  p.  573. 
vii.  Conjunctions,  p.  573. 

viii.  Nominatives  and  qualifying  words,  p.  573. 
tx.  Infinitive  mood,  p.  574. 
X.  Ellipsis,  p  574. 
xi.  Inverted  order,  p.  574. 
xii.  Emphatic  words,  p.  574. 
iii.  Gesture,  p.  575. 

Prejudice  against  gesture,  p.  576. 
Classification  of  gestures,  p.  577. 
Suggestions : 

1.  Conceive  vividly  the  location,  p.  577. 

2.  •'  "the  action,  p.  577. 

8.  Yield  to  the  inclination  to  emphasize,  p.  577. 
4,  Avoid  gestures  without  reason,  p.  577. 
Fundamental  rule,  p.  577. 
How  far  gesture  should  be  carried,  p.  578. 
Mimicry,  p.  578. 
Finttl  direction,  p.  579. 
IHE  ART  OF  READING,  p.  580. 

Reading  as  a  means  of  criticism,  p.  582. 


PART  VI. 

POETRY 


PART  VI. 
POETRY. 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 

WHAT  CONSTITUTES  POETRY. 

I  THIBK  notbing  can  be  added  to  Milton's  deflnition  or  rale  of  poetry,  that  it  otiglitto 
be  liinpie,  aenraoos,  and  Impaasioned  ;  that  is  to  my,  single  in  conception,  abounding  in 
imagetn,  and  informing  them  all  with  the  spirit  of  the  mind. — Colzridoic 


Construction  vs.  Criticism. — Up  to  this  poiut, 
the  student  has  been  instructed  how  to  perform  certain 
functions  of  speech.  To  converse,  to  write  a  letter  or  an 
essay,  to  make  a  speech  tliat,  if  not  eloquent,  is  at  least  not 
discreditable — of  all  these  things  the  student  may  leani 
not  only  what  constitutes  excellence  in  them,  but  how  he 
may  attain  it.  He  has  been  taught  not  only  how  to  criti- 
cise, but  how  to  construct. 

But  the  poet  is  born,  not  made.  Art  may  lielp  him  to 
realize  his  possibilities,  but  it  cannot  inspire  them.  It 
may  aid  the  rest  of  us  to  recognize  and  delight  in  poetry, 
but  it  will  not  supply  us  with  poetical  conceptions. 

Hear  what  be  (Macanlay)  says  in  the  introduction  to  his  Euay 
on  Dry  den:  '*The  man  who  is  best  able  to  take  a  machine  to 
pieces,  and  who  most  clearly  comprehends  the  manner  of  its  work- 
ing, will  be  the  man  most  competent  to  form  another  machine  of 


588  WHAT  CONSTITUTES    POETRY.  fPART  YI. 

similar  power.  In  all  the  branches  of  physical  and  moral  science 
which  admit  of  i>erfect  analysis,  he  who  can  resolve  will  be  able 
to  combine.  But  the  analysis  which  criticism  can  effect  of  poetry 
is  necessarily  imperfect.  One  element  must  forever  elude  its  re- 
searches ;  and  that  is  the  very  element  by  which  poetry  is  poetry." 
It  is  the  old  story.  The  botanist  can  take  the  flowers  to  pieces, 
show  you  the  stamens,  pistil,  calyx,  coroUa,  and  all  the  rest  of  it, 
but  can  he  put  them  together  again  ?  Can  he  grasp  or  recreate 
the  mysterious  thing  which  held  them  together  and  made  the 
living  flower  ?  No ;  the  life  has  escaped  his  grasp.  Now  this 
quick  life,  this  vivid  impulse,  this  unnamable  essence  which  makes 
poetry  to  be  poetry — these  learning,  criticism,  study,  reflection, 
may  kill  as  I  have  said,  but  cannot  create. — Shaibp. 

A  modem  poet,  whoae  own  ezperienoe  and  productions  exemplified  his  wordH,  haa 
■aid :  "  A  man  cannot  aay,  I  will  write  poetry ;  the  greatest  poet  cannot  say  it,  for  the 
mind  in  creation  iff  as  a  fading  coal,  which  some  irresistible  inflnence,  lilce  an  inconstant 
wind,  awakeuK  to  transitory  brightneas.  This  power  arises  from  within,  lilce  the  color  of 
a  flower  which  dims  and  changes  as  it  is  developed,  and  the  conncious  portions  of  our 
nature  are  unprophetic  either  of  its  approach  or  of  its  departure.  It  is,  as  it  were,  the 
interpenetration  of  a  diviner  nature  within  our  own  ;  but  its  footsteps  are  like  those  of  a 
wind  over  the  sea,  which  the  coming  calm  erases,  and  whose  traces  remain  only  on  the 
wrinkled  sand  which  paves  it.  Poetry  is  the  record  of  the  Itest  and  happiest  moments  of 
the  happiest  and  best  minds.*^  .  .  .  For  what  is  it  that  is  the  primal  source,  the 
earliest  impuloe,  out  of  which  all  true  poetry  in  the  pat^t  ha.s  sprung,  out  of  which  alone 
it  can  ever  spring?  Is  it  not  the  descent  upon  the  soul,  cr  the  flashing  up  from  its  in- 
most depths,  of  some  thought,  sentiment,  emotiou,  which  possesses,  fills,  kindles  it — as 
we  say.  Inspires  it  ?  It  may  be  some  new  truth,  which  the  poet  has  been  the  first  to  dis- 
own. It  may  be  some  world-old  truth,  borne  in  upon  him  so  vividly  that  he  seems  to  have 
been  the  first  (man)  who  has  ever  seen  it.  New  to  him,  a  new  dawn,  as  it  were,  from 
within,  the  light  of  it  makes  all  it  touchcR  new.— Shairp. 

In  the  dexcription  of  the  Transfiguration,  in  St.  Matthew,  we  are  told  that  "  Peter, 
James,  and  John  his  brother,  were  brought  up  into  a  high  mountain  apart,"  and  that 
**a  bright  cloud  overshadowed  them."  Applying  with  becoming  reverence  that  sacred 
scene,  I  would  say  that  poetry  is  a  transfiguration,  which  takes  place  only  at  a  certain 
elevation,  and  during  which  those  who  perceive  it  are  overshadowed  by  a  cloud,  but  a 
cloud  that  is  bright.     .     .     . 

Poetry  is  a  tran^tfiguration  of  life ;  in  other  words,  an  imaginative  representation,  in 
verse  or  rhythm,  of  whatever  men  perceive,  feel,  think,  or  do. — Alfred  Austin. 

The  Importance  of  true  criticism  can  be  estimated 
only  by  those  who  recognize  its  rarity.  Destructive  criti- 
cism— mere  flaw-picking,  usually  based  on  ignorance  or 
lack  of  sympathetic  imagination — is  unfortunately  com- 
mon ;  for  it  presents  to  the  conceited  a  temptation  almost 


Chap.  XXXI.]  CRITICISM.  589 

irresistible  to  vaunt  their  superior  discrimination.  l>ut 
constructive  criticism — the  recognition  of  beauties  that  the 
usual  eye  has  failed  to  see — is  the  chief  element  of  a  broad 
culture. 

Speaking  of  a  certain  essay  on  Shakspere  by  a  Mrs.  Montague, 
Dr.  Johnson  once  said,  "No,  sir,  there  is  no  real  criticism  in  it; 
none  showing  the  heauty  of  the  thought,  as  founded  in  the  work- 
ings of  the  human  heart."  That  word  of  the  stem  ohl  critic  well 
expresses  what  is  the  tine  function  of  his  own  craft,  the  only  thing 
that  makes  poetic  criticism  worth  having — when  some  competent 
l)or8on  uses  it  to  explain  to  the  world  in  general,  who  really  do 
not  see  far  in  such  matters,  those  permanent  tniths  of  human  feel- 
ing on  which  some  great  poem  is  built.  For,  after  all,  the  repu- 
tation which  attaches  even  to  the  greatest — Homer,  Shakspere, 
and  the  like— depends  on  the  verdict  of  a  few.  They  see  into  the 
core  of  the  matter,  tell  the  world  what  it  ought  to  see  and  feel ; 
and  the  world  receives  their  saying  and  rejjeats  it.— Shairp. 

A  newspaper  account  of  poetic  remodelling  by  a  legal 
reporter  is  hardly  a  caricature. 

"Would  you  l>e  kind  enough  to  direct  me  to  the  editor?" 
asked  a  grave  and  venerable  gentleman  with  a  kindly  face  and 
pleasant  smile. 

•*  He's  out,"  responded  the  law  reporter.  '*  Is  there  anything  I 
can  do?" 

"  I  am  Dr.  Holmes,"  responded  the  gentleman. 

"  Where's  your  office,  Doctor?  CJome  to  see  about  the  diph- 
th(>ria  ?  I  can  do  as  well  as  the  editor.  What  is  it  ?  "  and  the  law 
reiM)rt€r  bi-aced  himself. 

**Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,"  replied  the  gentleman,  his 
handsome  face  l)eaming  with  good  nature.  *'  I  have  n  little  ]>0(^m 
I  should  like  to  submit.     Shall  I  leave  it  with  you  ?  " 

The  law  reporter  took  it  and  read  it  aloud. 

••You  call  it  'A  Winter  Day  on  the  Prairie,***  said  lu  ,  Lm  ; 
yes." 

A  biindinir  gtAra,  •  nilvrr  akj, 

A  «•  o(  wiow.  with  f  roaen  apnj ; 
The  touBhic  brOlowB  mreUioff  bl^ 

Updoflkod  OfkUM  tbo  ioj  day. 


590  WHAT  CONSTITUTES  POETRY.  [Part  VI. 

White  laden  northern  whirlwinds  VUm 

AcrcMM  the  pftle  sea'*  heavy  broMt, 
And  fill  the  oreamy  ebb  and  flow 

With  sUNrmy  terror  and  tmreat. 

The  ■iorm  Uzda  fly  athwart  the  main 

Like  radderleae,  bewildered  kbips, 
The  itranded  winds  breathe  aobe  at  pain 

And  froaty  froth  from  pallid  Upa, 
The  Methiog  millcy  waves,  in  swift. 

Harsh  stroggleii  with  the  fate  that  binds 
Break  into  froaen  rift  and  drift 

Against  the  wrecked  and  staining  winds. 

▲  aea  of  lonelineas  and  death 

Whose  waves  are  ghosts ;  whose  vales  are  gnxm. 
Whose  inspiration  is  the  breath 

That  larks  In  northern  Winter  oaves. 
A  snowy  gloom,  whose  icy  shade 

Lies  white  beneath  the  spray  tipped  crest. 
Whose  silver  sombreness  is  laid 

A  glaring  pall  across  his  breast. 

"  Just  SO,  just  SO,"  continued  the  law  reporter.  "  Did  you  want 
this  published  as  it  is  ?  " 

**I  had  thought  something  of  giving  it  publicity,"  replied  the 
doctor. 

•'  You'll  have  to  get  the  advertising  clerk  to  register  it,  then," 
retoi-ted  the  law  reporter.  "I  wouldn't  take  the  responsibility  of 
sending  it  in  as  it  stands  now." 

"  What  seems  to  be  the  matter  with  it  ?  "  inquired  the  doctor. 

*'  I  don't  think  it  is  natuml.  Now,  here,  you  take  a  snow-storm 
on  the  praiiie  and  make  it  a  sea.  Then  you  freeze  it  all  up  and 
make  it  dash  aroimd.  Y^ou've  either  got  to  thaw  it  out  or  quit 
dashing  it.  We  may  be  able  to  alter  it  so  it  will  do  if  you'll 
leave  it." 

"  What  alterations  would  you  suggest  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

'•  I'd  fix  that  fii-st  verse  so  as  to  be  in  accordance  with  the  facts ; 
make  it  'sequential,'  as  we  say  in  law.  Instead  of  having  the 
blinding,  and  the  silvei-,  and  the  foaming  billows,  and  the  white 
laden  winds,  and  the  creamy  ebb,  and  all  that  rot,  I'd  put  it  this 
way: 

In  township  thirty,  range  twenty-nine. 

Described  in  the  deed  as  prairie  land. 
It  sometimes  snows  in  the  Winter  time, 

As  we  are  given  to  understand.  . 


OuAP.  XXXI.]  CRITICISM.  591 

Thii  allesed  snow  falls  on  a  level. 

It's  Miid,  some  several  feet  or  more, 
And  when  the  wind  bluws  very  hard 

It  drifts  from  where  it  wai>  before. 

"  In  that  way,"  continued  the  law  reporter,  "you  get  the  facts  be- 
fore the  public  without  committing  the  paper  to  anything.  Under 
your  poem  any  man  who  could  prove  you  were  talking  about  his 
land  could  bring  a  libel  suit,  and  the  measure  of  damages  would 
be  what  he  could  have  sold  it  for  if  you  hadn't  written  it  up  as  a 
sea.** 

•'  Will  the  other  verses  do  ?"  asked  the  doctor. 

•'  I'm  afraid  not,"  replied  the  law  reporter.  "  This  business 
about  the  storm  bird  without  a  rudder,  and  stranded  winds  and 
milky  waves  don't  prove  anything.  They  wouldn't  be  admitted  in 
evidence  anywhere.  I  suppose  you  want  to  express  desolation, 
but  the  testimony  isn't  good.     Why  don't  you  say  : 

In  the  place  aforesaid,  when  the  winds  blow, 

The  tenants  thereof  don't  go  abwut, 
And  such  birds  as  find  they  can  stand  the  snow. 

Look  as  thooicb  they'd  had  their  tails  polled  oat. 

And  when  the  said  snow  and  wind  had  gone. 

It's  foand  the  said  land  finds  a  ready  taker. 
For  though  you  can't  farm  much  when  winter's  on. 

The  property  don't  fall  a  cent  an  acre. 

"  There  you  get  your  desolation,  and  your  birds,  like  rudder- 
less ships,  and  at  the  same  time  you  throw  in  a  clause  which  lets 
you  out  of  the  libel  by  showing  that  the  snow  don't  alfect  the 
value  of  the  ground.  The  way  you  had  it  you  would  have  brought 
all  the  Western  settlements  down  on  us.     Been  a i)oet  long?" 

**I — I — that  is,  I  begin  to  think  not,"  gasped  the  unhappy 
doctor.     "  But  can't  you  do  something  with  the  last  verse  ?  " 

"  We  might  leave  that  out  altogether,  or  we  might  substitute 
something  for  it.  The  last  verse  is  a  contradiction  of  terms.  It's 
a  non-sequitnr,  as  we  may  say  in  law,  and  could  have  no  status  in 
court  in  the  event  of  an  action.  Yon  can*t  say  snowy  gloom,  or 
white  shade  ;  and  as  for  a  glaring  pall,  I  presume  you  mean  the 
white  velvet  one  they  use  for  infants.  I  couldn't  pass  that  in,  but 
I  might  change  it  for  yon.     How  would  this  do  : 


592  WHAT  CONSTITUTES  POETRY.  [Pakt  VL 

It  is  ruinured  that  while  the  mow 

Is  on  the  Uiiii  before  doMcribed, 
It  look*  as  thoogh  uoe  oooldn't  aow 

Seed  to  advantn^;.-.  though  this  ia  denied. 
Some  people  hold  that  it  eiuptie«  the  pouch 

To  buy  land  in  the  Winter  in  the  North ; 
For  thlH  unsupported  fUtement  we  do  not  vouch. 

But  give  the  story  for  what  it  is  worth. 

*'  Tills,  you  see,  gives  all  sides  of  the  question,  without  making 
the  paper  responsible  for  anything.  I  call  that  a  supeiior  article 
of  poetry,"  continued  the  law  reporter,  reading  the  three  stanzas 
over  in  an  admiring  tone  of  voice. 

"  But  there  isn't  any  poetry  in  it,"  stammered  the  doctor. 

"What's  the  reason  there  isn't?*'  demanded  the  law  reporter, 
indignantly.  ' '  Don't  it  tell  everything  you  did,  and  don't  it  rhyme 
in  some  places  ?  Don't  it  get  out  all  the  facts,  and  don't  it  let 
people  know  wliat  is  going  on  ?  " 

'•  Of  course  it  does,"  chimed  in  the  police  reporter.  **  That's 
what  I  call  a  good  item  of  poetry.  I  think  you  might  add  start- 
ling developments  may  be  expected,  and  the  i)olice  have  got  a 
clue  to  the  perpetrator." 

**  That  isn't  neces.sary,"  replied  the  law  reporter,  loftily.  "We 
poets  always  leave  sometliing  to  the  reader's  imagination." 

**  I  believe  I'll  go,"  murmured  the  doctor. 

**  All  right,  sir.  CJome  around  any  time  when  you've  got  some 
poetry  you  want  fixed  up,"  and  the  law  reporter  bowed  the  visitor 
out. 

Definitions  of  poetry  abound.  One  of  the  best  is 
the  motto  at  the  head  of  this  chapter.  Othei's  are  as  fol- 
lows: 

The  most  just  and  comprehensive  definition  which,  I  think,  can 
be  given  of  poetry  is,  * '  That  it  is  the  language  of  passion,  or  of 
enlivened  imagination,  formed  most  commonly  into  regular  num- 
bers."— Blair. 

Poetry  is  the  impassioned  expression  which  is  in  the  counte- 
nance of  all  science. — Wordsworth. 

All  poetry  worthy  of  the  name  is  "more  intense  in  meaning 
and  more  concise  in  style  "  than  prose.  It  is  thought  touched  with 
imagination  and  emotion.— Shairp. 


Chap.  XXXI.  ]  THE  IDEAL.  593 

As  distinguished  from  oratory,  poetry  differs  in 
its  main  purpose,  which  is  not  persuasion,  but  contempla- 
tion. 

Poetry,  as  poetry,  has  nothing  to  do  with  condnct  and  action. 
(Contemplation  is  its  aim  and  end.     .     .     . 

Whiit  is  the  distinction  between  the  highest  eloquence  and  true 
poetry  is  an  interesting  question,  but  not  one  to  detain  us  now. 
Perhaps,  in  passing,  we  may  say  that  in  eloquence,  whatever  imag- 
ination is  allowed  to  enter  is  kept  consciously  and  carefully  subor- 
dinate to  an  ulterior  object,  either  to  convince  the  hearers  of  some 
tnith,  or  to  perauade  them  to  some  course  of  action.  On  the  other 
hand,  when  in  prose  composition  the  whole  or  any  jmrt  of  it  is  felt 
to  be  poetical,  the  thoughts  wliicli  are  poetical  appear  to  be  dwelt 
upon  for  the  pure  imaginative  delight  they  yield,  for  their  inhe- 
rent truth,  or  beauty,  or  interest,  without  reference  to  anything 
beyond.  If  the  writer  is  more  intent  on  the  eflTect  he  wishes  to 
produce  tlian  on  the  imaginative  delight  of  the  thought  he  utters, 
it  then  cea.ses  to  be  trae  i>oetry. — Shairp.    . 

The  Ideal  istlie  constant  aim  in  poetry,  as  the  practi- 
cal is  the  constant  aim  in  oratory. 

If  it  be  true  that 

Wo  live  by  admiration,  love,  and  hope, — 

that  the  objects  which  we  admire,  love,  hope  for,  determine  our 
character,  make  us  what  we  are,— then  it  is  the  poet,  more  than 
any  other,  who  holds  the  key  of  our  inmost  being.  For  it  is  he 
who,  by  virtue  of  inspired  insight,  places  before  us  in  the  truest, 
most  attractive  light,  the  highest  things  we  can  admire,  hope  for, 
love.  And  this  he  does  mainly  by  unveiling  some  new  tinith  to 
men,  or,  which  is  the  same  thing,  by  so  quickening  and  vivifying 
old  and  neglected  truths,  that  he  makes  them  live  anew.  To  do 
this  last  neetl^  -^  ">""li  ]»roj»hf'ti«'  iiisiflit  as  to  see  new  truths  for 
the  first  tim« 

This  is  the  i^u-i  s  Highest  otliee  either  to  l»e  a  revea^r  of  new 
truth,  or  an  unveilor  of  truths  forgotten  or  hidden  from  common 
eyes.  There  is  another  fuiietion  wliich  poets  fulfil— that  of  setting 
forth  in  appropriate  form  the  beauty  which  all  see,  and  giving  to 


594  WHAT  CONSTITUTES  POETRY.  [Part  VI. 

thovghta  and  sentimentB  in  which  all  share  beautiful  and  attractive 
expression.  This  last  is  the  poet's  artistic  function,  and  that  which 
some  would  assign  to  him  as  his  only  one. 

These  two  aspects  of  the  |x>et,  the  prophetic  and  the  artistic, 
coexist  in  different  proportions  in  all  g^eat  poets;  in  one  the 
prophetic  insight  predominates,  in  another  the  artistic  utterance. 
In  the  case  of  any  single  \x>et  it  may  be  an  interesting  question  to 
determine  in  what  proportions  he  possesses  each  of  these  two  quali- 
ties. — Shatrp. 

The  Prophetic  in  poetry  (to  adopt  Professor  Shairp's 
distinction)  is  sometimes  thought  to  be  unreal,  because  it 
is  imaginative;  but  it  has  been  well  pointed  out  that  it 
rests  on  the  deepest  truth — on  the  truth  that  underlies 
incidents  of  experience  and  is  fundamental  in  human  na- 
ture.    (Compare  page  235.) 

Aristotle  says:  "Poetry  is  more  philosophical  and  worthy  of 
attention  than  history;  for  poetry  speaks  of  universals,  but  history 
of  particulars."  Of  the  same  opinion  was  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  who 
declares  that  it  is  a  commendation  peculiar  to  poetry,  and  not  to 
history,  to  exalt  virtue  and  to  punish  vice,  to  set  the  mind  forward 
to  that  which  desei-ves  to  be  called  good.  "As  if  your  journey 
should  lie  through  a  fair  ^'ineyard,  at  the  very  outset  the  poet 
doth  give  you  a  cluster  of  grapes,  that,  full  of  that  taste,  you  may 
long  to  pass  farther."  Lord  Bacon  gave  to  the  world,  ten  years 
later,  an  amplification  of  Sidney's  idea  in  the  words  following: 
**  There  is  agreeable  to  the  spirit  of  man  a  more  ample  greatness, 
a  more  exact  goodness,  and  a  more  absolute  variety  than  can  be 
found  in  the  nature  of  things.  Therefore,  because  the  acts  or 
events  of  true  history  have  not  that  magnitude  which  satisfieth 
the  heart  of  man,  poesy  feigneth  acts  and  events  greater  and 
more  heroieal ;  because  true  history  propoundeth  the  successes 
and  issues  of  actions  not  so  agreeable  to  the  merits  of  virtue  and 
vice,  therefore  poesy  feigns  them  more  just  in  retribution,  and 
more  according  to  revealed  providence  ;  ])ecause  tme  histoiy  rep- 
resenteth  actions  and  events  more  ordinai*y,  and  less  interchanged, 
therefore  poesy  endueth  them  with  more  i-areness,  and  more  unex- 


Chap.  XXXI.)  THE  ARTISTIC.  595 

jjected  and  alternative  variations;  so  as  it  appeareth  that  poesy 
serveth  and  conferreth  to  magnanimity,  morality,  and  delectation. 
And  therefore  it  was  ever  thought  to  have  some  participation  of 
divineness,  because  it  doth  raise  and  erect  the  mind  by  submitting 
the  shews  of  things  to  the  desires  of  the  mind ;  whereas  reason 
doth  buckle  and  bow  the  mind  to  the  nature  of  things." — Hervey. 

Tlie  ^-iew  which  he  (Aiistotle)  took  was  concentrated  in  the 
saying,  that  poetiy  is  more  philosophical  than  history,  because  it 
looks  more  to  general  and  less  to  jmrticalar  facts.  We  should  now 
express  the  same  thing  in  the  statement  that,  whereas  history  is 
fact,  poetry  is  truth  — Dallas. 

It  is  the  prerogative  of  poetry  to  convey  to  us,  as  nothing  else 
can,  the  beauty  that  is  in  all  nature,  to  interpret  the  finer  quality 
that  is  hidden  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  to  hint  at  a  beauty  which 
lies  behind  these,  a  light  "  above  the  light  of  setting  suns,"  which 
is  incommunicable.  In  doing  this  it  will  fulfil  now,  as  of  old,  the 
office  which  Bacon  assigned  to  it,  and  will  give  some  **  shadow  of 
satisfaction  to  the  spirit  of  man  longing  for  a  more  ample  great- 
ness, a  more  perfect  goodness,  and  a  more  absolute  variety,"  than 
here  it  is  cajmble  of. — Shajw. 

The  Artistic  in  poetry  has  been  well  described  by 
John  Stuart  Mill. 

He  asked  himself  whether,  if  all  the  social  ends  he  had  hitherto 
aimed  at  were  achieved,  their  success  would  really  give  him  in- 
ward satisfaction ;  and  he  honestly  answered.  No  !  He  then  fell 
into  a  prolonged  des{K)ndency,  from  which  for  a  time  nothing  could 
rouse  him.  Almost  the  first  thing  which  came  to  relieve  this 
mental  malady  was  the  study  of  "Wordsworth's  poems,  especially 
the  Lt/rical  Ballada.  In  these  he  seemed  to  find  the  medicine  he 
needed.  Expressing  as  they  did  "  skUet  qf  feeling  and  of  thought 
colored  hy  feeling  under  the  excitement  of  beauty ^  they  seemed  to  open 
to  him  a  perennial  source  ''of  inwanl  joy,  and  of  sympathetic  and 
imaginative  pleasure,  which  could  be  shared  by  all  human  beings.** 

Tliis  art  of  Wordsworth's  is  further  e.xplained  by  Pro- 
fessor Shaii*p : 

First,  he  did  not  attempt  to  describe  mral  objects  as  they  are  in 


596  WHAT  CONSTITUTES  POETRY.  [Part  VI. 

themselves,  but  rather  as  they  affect  human  hearts.  [Compare 
pages  108,  245.  ]  As  it  has  been  well  exjiressed,  he  stood  at  the 
meeting-place  where  inflowing  nature  and  the  soul  of  man  touch 
each  other,  showed  how  they  fit  in  each  to  each,  and  what  exqui- 
site joy  comes  from  the  contact.  Secondly,  he  did  not  hold  with 
Coleridge,  that  from  nature  we  "  receive  but  what  we  give,*'  but 
rather  that  we  receive  much  which  we  do  not  give.  He  held 
that  nature  is  a  "living  presence,"  which  exerts  on  us  active 
jwwers  of  her  own,— a  bodily  image  through  which  the  Sovereign 
Mind  holds  intercourse  with  men. 

The  same  critic  speaks  in  another  place  of  the  poetical 
element  in  Tacitus : 

But  there  is  in  him  something  more,  something  peculiarly  his 
own,  which  is  of  the  true  essence  of  poetry — his  few  condensed 
clauses  hinting  all  the  sadness  and  hopelessness  of  his  time,  or  the 
rivid  scenes  he  paints  so  full  of  human  pathos.     .     .     . 

Wliat  man  is,  what  he  does,  what  he  should  do,  what  he  may 
become,  what  he  may  enjoy,  admire,  venerate,  love,  what  he  may 
hoi>e,  what  is  his  ultimate  destiny, — these  things  are  never  absent 
from  the  thoughts  of  great  poets,  and  that  not  by  accident,  but 
from  their  very  essence  as  poets. 

Questions  arise  (1)  as  to  whether  all  subjects  are 
suitable  for  poetic  representation,  or  only  those  that  tend 
to  elevate  the  mind  ;  and  (2)  as  to  the  extent  to  which  the 
purely  subjective  element  is  essential  in  poetry. 

(1)  At  the  Present  Day,  there  is  vigorous  discussion 
whether  or  not  the  low,  the  vile,  the  morbid  features  of 
depraved  life  are  subjects  of  artistic  description. 

"We'  [Matthew  Arnold  and  the  wi-iter]  appear  to  go  apart  in  this, 
that,  whereas  he  affirms  that  poetiy  is  a  criticism  of  life,  and  the 
greatness  of  a  poet  depends  upon  how  he  has  criticised  it,  I  ven- 
ture to  affirm  that  poetry  is  a  representation  of  life,  and  that  the 
greatness  of  a  poet  depends  upon  how  much  he  has  represented  ; 
the  poetic  manner  being,  in  either  case,  presupposed. — AxiFRed 
AuRrm. 


Chap.  XXXI.  ]         THE  SUBJECTS  OF  POETRY.  597 

You  have  in  Bums's  song  what,  in  the  language  of  logicians,  I 
would  call  the  *' first  intention"  of  thought  and  feeling.  You 
overhear  in  it  the  first  throb  of  the  heart,  not  meditated  over, 
not  subtilized  and  refined,  but  projected  warm  from  the  first 
glow.     .     .    . 

But  what  seems  to  me  most  characteristic  in  the  poetry  of  the 
time  is  elaborately  ornate  diction  and  luscious  music,  exj^ended  on 
themes  not  weighty  in  themselves.     .     .     . 

Wordsworth  is  reported  to  have  said  in  conversation,  that  as  a 
poet  Scott  cannot  live,  for  he  has  never  written  anything  addressed 
to  the  immortal  part  of  man.  .  .  .  All  contemporary  poetry, 
indeed  all  contemporary  literature,  goes  to  work  in  exactly  the 
opposite  direction,  shaping  men  and  things  after  patterns  self- 
originated  (from  within),  describing  and  probing  human  feelings 
and  motives  with  an  analysis  so  searching,  that  all  manly  impulse 
withers  before  it,  and  single-hearted  straight-forwardness  becomes 
a  thing  impossible.  Against  this  whole  tendency  of  modem 
l>oetry  and  fiction,  so  weakening,  so  morbidly  self-conscious,  so 
unhealthily  introsj)ective,  what  more  effective  antidote  than  the 
bracing  atmosphere  of  Homer,  and  Shakspere  and  Scott  ?— Shairp. 

Do  the  Fmcalty  of  ColainbU  College  exercise  any  wholemmo  control  over  their  stu- 
dents? WiM  and  aerero  restriction  woald  seem  to  bo  needful  in  many  ways.  We  find, 
fur  instance,  in  the  last  nnmber  of  that  smart  and  lively  semi-monthly  magazine,  called 
Aula  Cotmmbkma^  snoh  stofl  as  the  following  so-called  poem : 

Hsary  with  fragrant  odors  is  the  air, 

And  ever  as  a  soft  breeze  gently  blows. 

It  breathes  the  perfnme  of  some  bloshing  roM 
That  it  haa  kissed    some  rich  carnation  rare. 
Upon  whose  bosom,  crimson-flashed  and  bare. 

Has  Iain  its  head  in  odorous  repose— 

And  lightly  fans  mj  ftnrahMd  are  it  goaa 
To  die  forgotten,  stUntly,  aooMwhera. 


I  ?    Ah,  lore,  sinoa  I  have  fondly  pre— d 
Thy  scarlet  lips  to  mine,  and  learned  how  swaat 
Thy  kisses  are— how  fragrant  i*  thy  breath— 

Thia  aaorai  sonawtierB,  how  easily  His  go  wed  I 

O  gntla  brsBM !  if  I  were  anre  to  meet 
Thj  happy  Hate,  Fd  glMlly  wrioooM  death. 

Now,  this  sljle  of  thought  and  language  is  not  snitable  for  any  yoong  man  who  is  ra- 
^'iving  hia  edocatlon  in  OolambU  OoUege.  That  instituUon  shoald  carefully  look  after 
tie  Uterary  tMta  aa  wdl  as  the  mocmUtj  ot  tla  itiideata;  and  hare  is  one  whoee  ideas  ara 


598  WHAT   CONSTITUTES  POETRY.  [I'ahi   V  i. 

but  ezaggermted  oomaoaplaoe,  whom  \mfintkm  b  trivial  and  inuj«hy,  and  whose  literary 
culture  is  both  shallow  and  pratmtiouL  Tha  faculty  ought  to  sit  down  heavily  on  rucH 
a  student.— J^.  Y.  Sun. 

(2)  The  Subjective  element,  important  as  it  is  in 
poetry,  must  be  used  artistically,  not  morbidly. 

Byron,  and  such  poets  as  he,  when  they  express  emotion,  are 
wholly  absorbed  in  it,  lose  themselves  entirely  in  the  feeling  of 
the  moment.  For  the  time,  it  is  the  whole  world  to  them. 
Wordsworth,  and  such  as  he,  however  deeply  they  sympathize 
with  any  suffering,  never  wholly  lose  themselves  in  it,  never  forget 
that  the  quick  and  throbbing  emotions  are  but  **  moments  in  the 
being  of  the  eternal  silence."  They  make  you  feel  that  you  are, 
after  all,  encompassed  by  an  everlasting  calm.  The  passionate 
kind  of  lyric  is  sure  to  be  the  most  universally  i)opular.  The 
meditative  lyric  appeals  to  a  profonnder  reflectiveness,  which  is 
feelingly  alive  to  the  full  pathos  of  life,  and  to  all  the  mystery  of 
sorrow. — Shairp. 

Shall  I  sonnet  sing  you  about  myddf  ? 

Do  I  live  in  a  house  you  would  like  to  see  ? 
Is  it  scant  of  gear,  has  it  store  of  pelf  ? 

'  Unlock  my  heart  with  a  sonnet  key  ? ' 

Invite  the  world,  as  my  betters  have  done  ? 

'  Take  notice,  this  building  remains  on  view. 
Its  suites  of  reception  every  one. 

Its  private  apartments  and  bedroom  too ; 

For  a  ticket,  apply  to  the  Publisher.' 

No ;  thanking  the  public,  I  miist  decline. 
A  peep  through  the  window,  if  folks  prefer  ; 

But,  please  you,  no  foot  over  threshold  of  mine. 

Robert  BsowNnfo. 

The  Language  of  poetry  is  instinctively  different 
from  that  of  prose  (see  484,  572). 

Our  poetical  style  differs  widely  from  prose,  not  in  point  of 
numbers  only,  but  in  the  very  words  themselves ;  which  shows 
what  a  stock  and  compass  of  words  we  have  it  in  our  power  to 
select  and  employ,  suited  to  those  different  occasions.  Herein  we 
are  infinitely  superior  to  the  French,  whose  poetical  language,  if 
it  were  not  distinguished  by  rhyme,  would  not  be  known  to  differ 
from  their  ordinary  prose. — Biaib. 


Chap.  XXXI.  J  DIVISIONS  OF  POETRY.  599 

Divisions  of  Poetry. — The  following  divisions  of 
poetry  are  made  by  Professor  Shairp. 

Ltbicaij  Poetry  is  poetry  in  its  intensest  and  purest  foim. 

A  Ballad  is  a  poem  which  narrates  an  event  in  a  simple  style, 
noticing  the  several  incidents  of  it  successively,  as  they  occurred ; 
not  indulging  in  sentiment  or  reflection,  but  conveying  whatever 
sentiment  it  has  indirectly,  by  the  way  the  facts  are  told,  rather 
than  by  direct  expression. 

A  SoNo,  on  the  other  hand,  contains  little  or  no  narrative,  tells 
no  facts,  or  gives,  V)y  allusion  only,  the  thinnest  possible  frame- 
work of  fact,  with  a  view  to  convey  some  one  prevailing  sentiment — 
one  sentiment,  one  emotion,  simple,  passionate,  unalloyed  with  m- 
tellectualizing  or  analysis.  That  it  should  be  of  feeling  all  com- 
pact ;  tliat  the  words  should  be  translucent  with  the  light  of  the 
one  all-i>en'ading  emotion,  this  is  the  essence  of  the  true  song. 

Pastor.a^l  Poetry  expresses  the  lives,  thoughts,  feelings,  man- 
ners, incidents,  of  men  and  women  who  were  shei^herds,  i>easants, 
crofters,  and  small  moorland  farmers,  in  the  very  language  and 
I)hra8e8  which  they  used  at  their  firesides. 

The  subject  of  the  Epic  Poem  mu.st  be  some  one,  great,  com- 
plex action.  The  principal  personages  must  belong  to  the  high 
:  Ijices  of  the  world,  and  must  be  grand  and  elevated  in  their  ideas 
ad  in  their  bearing.  The  measure  must  be  of  a  sonorous  dignity, 
Ix^fitting  the  subject.  The  action  is  carried  on  by  a  mixture  of 
iiiirrative,  dialogue,  and  soliloquy.  Briefly  to  express  its  main 
haracteristics,  the  epic  treats  of  one  great,  complex  action,  in 
f^rand  style,  and  with  fulness  of  detail. — Thomas  Arnold. 

Other  divisions,  sucli  as  Descriptive,  Reflective,  Dra- 
matic, etc.,  will  readily  suggest  themselves. 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 


What  Constitutes  Poetry. 

Construt  tioii  rs.  Criticism,  p.  587. 

ImporUiu  .  of  true  criticism,  p.  588. 

Definitions  of  poetry,  p.  592. 

Poetry  distinguished  from  oratory,  p.  598. 

The  ideal  in  pot'trv.  J.   ."'.i:}. 

The  prophetic  in  ii<'<tr^    t   .'»n4. 

The  arti>ti«-  in  port  17. 

1.  Whether  all  subjects  are  suitable  for  poetic  representa- 

tion, p.  596. 

2.  To  what  extent  the  subjective  elemen  '^l,  P- 

598. 
The  language  of  poetry,  p.  598. 
Divisions  of  poetry,  p.  599. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE. 

The  language  of  poetry  is  particularly  characterized  by 
the  use  of  Figures.  While  these  are  not  absent  from 
orations,  from  essays,  even  from  the  commonest  speech  of 
daily  life,  they  are  essential  to  poetry,  and  may  be  there 
employed  with  a  profusion  that  would  weaken  other  forms 
of  composition. 

The  term  Fioitre,  called  by  the  Greeks  schema^  and  the  Romans 
figura,  is  thought  l>j  some  to  have  been  borrowed  from  the  stage. 
The  word  schema  and  its  derivatives  were  employed  by  Greek 
writers  to  designate  the  gestures  and  attitudes  of  the  actors  and 
the  charactei-s  assumed  by  them.  It  is  not  uncommon  in  our  own 
language  to  say  of  a  |)ersou's  dress  or  actions,  "He  makes  an 
awkward  figure,**  *•  He  makes  a  handsome  figure,"  "  His  conduct  is 
out  of  character."  It  was  therefore  natural  and  suggestive  to  call 
any  striking  form  of  speech  or  turn  of  thought  a  figure.  Now  this 
itlea  may  assist  us  in  making  such  a  detiuitiou  of  the  term  tiguie  as 
will  include  the  notion  which  the  Greeks  and  Romans  exi)ressed  by 
the  term.  In  spite  of  their  own  definitions,  their  pi-actice  shows 
that  they  understood  by  it  any  noticeable  form  or  turn  of  language 
without  regard  to  the  question  whether  the  word  or  words  were 
changed  from  their  projwr,  natural,  or  principal  sense.  They  re- 
k'lirded  the  striking  ]X)culiarities  of  diction  as  characters  into  which 
worils  of  whatever  significance  had  been  transformed.  Wherefore 
they  are  termed  by  Cicero  •*  attitudes  of  style." 

The  Greek  and  Roman  rhetors  made  a  distinction  between  the 
troiH)  and  the  figure.    Modem  writers  on  this  subject  have  re- 


602  FIGURATn  i     1.\\(.IAGE  [Paut  YI. 

spected  this  distinction,  and  yet  Imvo  oniployod  tho  latter  term  in 
so  wide  a  sense  as  to  embrace  the  idea  of  a  trope.  A  tro|)e  is,  ac- 
cording to  Quintilian,  tho  change  of  a  word  or  phram?  from  its 
proper,  natural,  or  princii^al  meaning  into  another,  in  order  to  in- 
crease its  force  or  to  adorn  style.  This  definition  is  faulty  in  sev- 
eral jwrticuhtrs.  It  ignores  the  fact  that  the  most  natural  signifi- 
cation of  a  word  may  be  tropical,  and  the  word  that  is  supposed  to 
be  turned  from  its  primitive  sense  is  jjerliaps  turned  in  reality  from 
a  derivative  one.  The  literal  or  original  meaning  of  a  word  is  not 
always  its  proper  and  principal  import.  Nor  is  it  philosophical  to 
say  that  one  word  can  be  changed  from  its  own  signification  to  that 
of  another ;  for  many  words  have  several  well-known  senses.  A 
word  may  indeed  take  the  place  of  another,  but  it  stands  there  for 
itself,  and  in  one  of  its  own  significations.  The  muilems  confine 
tropes  to  single  words,  while  they  consider  figures  as  belonging  to 
words  or  phrases  or  sentences. 

The  most  philonophical  and  senrioeable  olaadfloatioii  of  flgnres  i«  that  which  is  made 
by  Dr.  Alexander  Caraon  : 

a.  Figures  founded  on  reeemblanoe,  as  metaphor,  compari>K>n,  and  allegory. 

b.  FigureH  founded  on  relation,  as  metonymy,  metale|ieiH,  synecdoche,  antonomasia, 
onomatoi^KPia,  periphrasis,  emphasis,  insinuation,  equivocation. 

c.  Figures  in  which  there  is  an  apparent  inconsisten'.-y  between  their  literal  and  their 
fignrative  meaning.  To  this  class  belong  irony,  sarcaism,  epitrope,  oxymoron,  *'  Hiberni- 
oon,  or  the  Irish  trope,"  apophasis,  synoeceioxi^,  alluKion.  paradox,  litotes,  '-callida  jnnc- 
tura,"  hyperbole,  interrogation,  *'  designation  by  opposite  extremes.^' 

d.  The  elliptical  figures.  To  this  class  belong  ellipsis,  aposiopesis,  interruption,  asyn- 
deton. 

e.  The  pleonastic  figures.  To  this  class  belong  pleonasm,  polysyndeton,  repetition, 
parenthesis,  epanorthosis. 

/.  Figures  of  ormngement,  as  hyperbation,  antithesis,  and  climax. 

g.  Personification,  apostrophe,  exclamation,  interjection. 

h.  Grammatical  figures.   Change  of  ca-se.*,  of  tenses,  of  persons,  of  names,  of  numbers. 

i.  Figures  of  a  complex  nature,  as  catachresis,  euphemism,  vision.— Hebvey. 

The  Chief  Figures  are  (a)  Personification;  (h)  Me- 
tonymy; (6')  Synecdoche;  (rZ)  Hyperbole;  (e)  Irony;  (/') 
Simile :  (V/)  Metaphor. 

(a)  Personification  endows  the  lower  animals  and  in- 
animate objects  with  the  attributes  of  human  beings.  Thus : 

* '  I  am  glad, "  answered  the  bee,  *  *  to  hear  you  grant,  at  least,  that 
I  came  honestly  by  my  wings  and  my  voice." 


Chap.  XXXII.]  APOSTROPHE.  603 

The  mountains  and  the  hills  shall  break  forth  before  you  into 
singing,  and  all  the  trees  of  the  field  shall  clap  their  hands. 

Perhaps  the  vale 
Belents  awhile  tu  the  reflected  ray.— Thomsox. 

It  is  clear  that  nature,  who  is  undoubtedly  the  most  graceful 
artist,  hath  in  all  her  ornamental  works  puraued  variety,  with  an 
apparent  neglect  of  regularity. — Blaib. 

Exercise. — Give  sentences  in  which  the  following  words 
are  personified : 

Time  Spring  Sun  Hope 

Sleep  Winter  Moon  Mercy 

Death  Ship  Sea  Wisdom 

Apostrophe  is  personification  of  the  second  person, 
and  addresses  the  inanimate  as  persons,  or  the  absent  as 
present ;  as  "  O  Death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? " 

Shrine  of  the  mightv!  can  it  be. 
That  thb  in  all  remains  of  thee  t 

ApostropJie  (Gr.  dno^  arfHtfxo)  means  literally  a  turning  off  or 
aside,  and  the  figure  is  so  called  because  the  writer  interrupts  the 
natural  course  of  his  narration  or  desciiption,  to  address  the  ob- 
ject to  whicli  it  refers. 

Exclamation  is  allied  to  Apostrophe. 

The  li-^ui.'  of  •  xthiination  deseiTes  a  caution  rather  than  a  com- 
iiHMulution.  It  IS  excessively  used  in  the  pulpit.  Not  only  in  the 
monosyllabic  forms  •♦oh!"  and  "ah I"  but  in  the  constructive 
f(jrms,  in  which  the  whole  sentence  is  made  exclamatory,  "  How 
great !  "  '*  How  imi)ortaut !  "  "  How  solemn  !  "  "  Awful  moment !  " 
"  Fearful  tidings!  "  There  is  a  style,  which,  for  the  freedom  with 
which  it  employs  such  constructions,  may  be  fitly  termed  the  ex- 
clamatory style.  It  is  very  easy  com]>OKition  ;  it  is  a  facile  way  of 
beginning  a  sentence  ;  therefore  we  employ  it  excessively.  It  is  a 
sign  of  indolent  composing.  Our  enquiry,  therefore,  should  be, 
When  may  we  omit  it?  and  our  rule,  to  dispense  with  it  whenever 
we  can.  Dean  Swift  commends  a  reader  who  said  it  was  his  rule 
to  pass  over  every  paragraph  in  reading,  at  the  end  of  which  hia 


604  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  [Part  VL 

eje  detected  the  note  of  exelaiuation.  Horao  Tooke  denied  that 
exclamations  belong  to  language  ;  ho  said  tliey  were  involuntary 
nervous  affections,  like  sneezing,  coughing,  yawning. — Pheli's. 

(b)  Metonymy  interchanges  correlative  terms,  as 
when  we  transpose, 

(1)  Tlie  concrete  and  the  abetract;  as,  the  croum,  for  royaUy;  the 
tword,  for  miiitary  power  ;  CcesoTt  for  the  sovereign  potter ;  the  fatal 
cty,  tor  poison f  etc.,  etc.  Her  Majesty^  for  the  Queen;  His  Impu- 
dence^  for  an  impwient  fellow ;  etc.,  etc. 

(2)  The  effect  and  tJte  ctiuse;  as,  drunkenness,  for  vine  ;  sunshine, 
for  (he  sun ;  gray  hairs,  for  old  age. 

(3)  The  author  and  his  rtorks  ;  as,  **  I  am  reading  Shakspere;  " 
He  is  an  admirer  of  Wordsworth. 

Metonymy  literally  signifies  (Or.  /icro,  Svofta)  a  change  of  name. 

(c)  Synecdoche  puts  a  part  for  the  whole;  &^  fifty 
sail  ioT  fifty  ships.  "  Consider  the  lilies  how  they  grow," 
where  lilies  is  put  for  all  flowers,  or  for  the  whole  vegeta- 
ble world.  The  part  in  the  latter  case  is  the  species,  and 
the  whole  is  the  genus. 

Synecdoche  literally  signifies  (Gr.  aw,  cV,  Bexofim)  the  under- 
standing or  receiving  of  one  thing  out  of  another.  The  force  of 
this  figure  consists  in  the  greater  vividness  with  which  the  part  or 
the  species  is  realized. 

(d)  Hyberbole  makes  a  statement  more  impressive  by 
representing  things  to  be  greater  or  less,  better  or  worse, 
than  they  really  are.  It  frequently  puts  the  whole  for  a 
part,  and  may  then  be  regarded  as  the  reverse  of  synec- 
doche; as.  The  whole  city  came  forth  to  meet  him.  It 
may  also  appear  in  the  verb ;  as.  The  French  fleet  was 
annihilated,  meaning  that  it  was  disabled. 

Hyperbole  (Gr.  vnef),  ^d\\(o)  literally  signifies  a  throwing  be- 
yond, an  over-shooting. 


(II   1     XXXIIO  IRONY.  606 

The  waves  rose  mountain-high.  She  shed  ji  Hood  <»f 
tears.     All  Arabia  breathes  from  yonder  box. 

(e)  Irony  is  the  ligure  of  real  contradiction.  Epigram 
means  something  different  from  what  is  expressed,  Irony 
expresses  the  opposite  of  what  is  meant.  It  bestows 
praise  in  such  a  manner  as  to  convey  disapprobation.  It 
professes5)elief  in  a  statement  for  the  purpose  of  casting 
ridicule  upon  it. 

Elijah's  atldress  to  the  priests  of  Baal  is  a  memorable  example 
of  Irony  :  *'  Cry  aloud  ;  for  he  is  a  god  ;  either  he  is  talking,  or  he 
is  pm-suing,  or  he  is  on  a  journey,  or  i>oradventure  he  sleeiMjth  and 
must  be  awaked."  Job,  also,  mocked  his  friends  when  he  said, 
*•  No  doubt  ])ut  ye  are  the  i)eople,  and  wisdom  \vi\\  die  with  you." 
Johnson's  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Chesterfield  affords  sevei-al  examples 
of  Ii*ony — e.fj.,  "  To  be  so  distinguished  is  an  honour,  wliich,  being 
very  little  accustomed  to  favours  from  the  great,  I  know  not  well 
how  to  receive,  or  in  what  terms  to  acknowledge." 

froni/  (Gr.  rtpuf,  a  dissembler),  literally  signifies  diBsimulation. 
It  pretends  to  approve,  in  order  to  expose  and  ridicule. 

Epigram  is  the  figure  of  apparent  contradiction  (see 
page  407). 

The  primary  signification  of  epigram  (Gr.  ctti,  ypd^w)  was  an  in- 
scription uixm  a  statue ;  the  sense  in  which  epigraj^h  is  now  used. 
It  was  then  applied  to  a  short  poem  (a  couplet  or  stanza)  contain- 
ing a  pithy  or  witty  saying,  generally  at  its  close.  Lastly,  the 
name  was  ap])lied  to  the  witty  saWng  itself,  and  hence  to  any  say- 
ing characterized  by  wit  and  point. 

But  the  principal  figures  (or  Tropes,  to  use  a  comnion 
term)  are  Simile  and  Metaphor. 

(f)  Simile  compares  two  things  together,  in  order  to 
show  that  they  have  qualities  in  common.  To  be  effective 
the  point  of  likeness  should  be  (1)  unexpected,  and  (2)  ap 
plieable  to  the  thought  conveyed. 


^06  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  [Part  VI. 

ExEKcisK. — Complete  the  following  similes. 

JSmmp/e.— Fortnne  is  fickle  as  the  wind. 

Fortune  is  fickle — .  lian's  life  fieeth— .  The  enemy  fought — . 
The  world  is  likened  by  Shakspere — .  The  cultivation  of  the 
mind—.  An  evil  conscience  is  like — .  The  seasons  of  the  year, 
as  well  as  the  divisions  of  the  day,  appropriately  represent—. 
Charity  —  brightens  every  object  on  which  it  shines. 

(I)  Trite  similes  arouse  no  interest. 

What  gives  the  princiiml  delight  to  the  imagination  is  the  exhi- 
bition of  a  strong  likeness  which  escapes  the  notice  of  the  gener- 
ality of  people. — Cahi*bbll. 

Among  similes,  faulty  through  too  great  obviousness  of  the 
likeness,  we  must  likewise  rank  those  which  are  taken  from  ob- 
jects become  trite  and  familiar  in  poetic  language.  Such  are  the 
similes  of  a  hero  to  a  lion,  of  a  person  in  sorrow  to  a  flower  droop- 
ing its  head,  of  violent  passion  to  a  tempest,  of  chastity  to  snow,  of 
virtue  to  the  sun  or  stars,  and  many  others  of  this  kind.— Blaib. 

Belittling  Similes  are  still  more  to  be  avoided  than 
those  merely  obvious.     Thus: 

In  one  picture  we  see  two  lovers  looking  upon  the  sky ;  poetical 
Augustus  says,  ♦*  Look,  Edith  !  how  lovely  are  those  fleecy  cloud- 
lets, dappled  over  the — "  Edith  (not  in  a  spirit  of  burlesque)  re- 
plies, *•  Yes,  *xactly  like  gravy  when  it's  getting  cold — isn't  it  ?  " 

The  belittling  may  however  be  intentional,  the  effect 
aimed  at  resembling  that  of  anti-climax  (see  page  exxxvi). 

You  may  conceive  the  difference  in  kind  between  the  fancy  and 
imagination  in  this  way  ; — that  if  the  check  of  the  senses  and  the 
reason  were  withdrawn,  the  first  would  become  delirium,  and  the 
last  mania.  The  fancy  brings  together  images  which  have  no  con- 
nection natural  or  moral,  but  are  yoked  together  by  the  poet  by 
means  of  some  accidental  coincidence,  as  in  the  well-known  pas- 
sage in  Hudibras  : 

The  sun  had  lung  since  in  the  lap 
Of  Thetis  taken  out  his  nap, 
And,  like  a  lobster  boiled,  the  morn 
From  black  to  red  betjan  to  turn 

— Coleridge. 


Chap.  XXXII.  ]  ADAPTABILITY.  607 

(2;  Adaptability  is  the  principal  test  of  the  usefulness 
of  a  simile,  llesides  the  recognition  of  it  as  just,  there 
should  he  the  further  impression  that  it  is  pat  to  the  occa- 
sion ;  that  it  brinsjs  out  the  thought  as  no  other  expres- 
sion could. 

Figures  are  not  the  utterances  of  blind  impulse  ;  they  are  rather 
in  many  cases  the  result  of  the  mind's  endeavors  to  illustrate  the 
truth,  and  to  prove  from  an  appeal  to  the  visible  world  that  its  ex- 
istence is  both  i30s.sible  and  probable.  "Every  metaphor,"  ac- 
cording to  Cicero,  "expresses  the  thing  spoken  of  to  the  senses, 
especially  to  the  eyes  ;  "  and  Seneca  says  that  "  by  reason  of  human 
infirmity  the  teacher  may  by  the  help  of  figures  bring  into  the 
very  presence  of  his  hearers  those  ideas  which  they  could  not 
otherwise  undei-stand." — Hervey. 

Thus  the  following  simile  shows  too  much  eifort  on  the 
part  of  tlie  author,  and  requires  too  much  of  the  reader : 

It  is  not  always  easy  to  distinguish  between  beauty  of  thought 
and  beauty  of  style  ;  and  it  will  often  be  found  that  when  this 
quality  is  attributed  to  a  phrase,  sentence,  or  paragraph,  it  is 
traceable  to  the  thought  or  conception,  or  mental  image,  just  as 
readily  as  a  wing  lying  against  the  casement  may  be  ti-aced  to  the 
carrier-pigeon  that  rests  panting  and  weary  on  the  window-ledge 
below.  — Hebvbt. 

Metaphor  Inconsistent. 

New  rtani  have  appaired  and  vaniabed ;  the  ancient  aaterisma  remain ;  there's  not  an 
old  Ntar  iniiwing. — Haokxtt. 

If  they  had  been,  they  would  not  have  been  old.  This,  there- 
fore, like  many  of  Lord  Bacon's  illustrations,  has  more  wit  than 
meaning.  But  it  is  a  good  trick  of  rhetoric.  The  vividness  of 
the  image  per  se  makes  men  overlook  the  imperfection  of  the 
simile. 

"  Yoa  aae  ny  hand,  the  band  of  a  poor  pony  fellow-mortal;  and  will  yon  pretend  not 
toeeethebandofProvidenoe  inthiaboalneear  He  who  aeea  a  tnooaa  mntt  be  wUfuUy 
blind  it  be  doM  DOC  ■••  an  elephant.*'— Couuuook. 

The  Marquis  of  Lome  was  welcomed  to  Montreal  by  the  mayor, 
aldermen,  and  citizens.     He  delivered  to  them  a  formal,  written 


608  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  [Paut  VI. 

response.  Singularly  enough,  instead  of  telling  them  something 
new  and  instructive,  or  at  least  entertaining,  he  undertook  to  in- 
lorni  them  on  a  subject  with  which  tliey  might  naturally  be  €>x- 
lK7cted  to  bo  more  familiar  than  ho.  He  assumed  to  tell  them 
how  Montreal  sits  I    And  how  did  he  say  she  sits  ?    He  said : 

Your  beaatifal  dUj  aito  lUw  a  qaaen. 

Now  the  only  qneen  that  the  Marquis  of  Lome  knows  anything 
l)articular  about  is  Queen  Victoria,  his  mother-in-law. 

But  suppose  he  had  said,  **  Your  beautiful  city  sits  like  my 
mother-in-law,"  how  flat  and  ridiculous  his  simile  would  have 
sounded  !    And  yet  we  see  that  must  be  what  he  meant. 

Then,  again,  the  comparison  was  not  apt.  He  was  anything  but 
happy  in  his  illustration.  The  Queen  of  England,  the  mother  of 
numerous  offspring,  and  the  grandmother  of  a  still  more  numerous 
progeny,  has  always  been  represented  as  very  active— a  busy  body 
who  seldom  sits  in  one  place  any  considerable  length  of  time. 
Montreal  is  immovable,  and  always  sits  in  the  same  place.  She 
doesn't  sit  at  all  like  Queen  Victoria,  who  sits  in  a  chair,  and  once 
in  a  while  on  the  throne ;  but  only  a  few  minutes  at  a  time. 

It  would  have  been  more  appropriate  to  say :  "  Your  beautiful 
city  sits  like  a  hen,"  because  a  hen  sits  three  weeks  on  the  same 
nest ;  or,  still  more  correct,  to  say  :  "  Your  beautiful  city  sits  like 
a  goose,"  because  a  goose  sits  four  weeks  in  the  same  place.  Al- 
most any  comparison  would  have  been  preferable  to  the  one  he 
employed. 

We  doubt  whether  the  marquis's  mother-in-law  will  be  pleased 
when  she  receives  her  copy  of  the  Sun  containing  this  reference  to 
her  by  the  husband  of  her  daughter. — Neic  York  Sun. 

This  patness  will  be  best  understood  by  exam'ples.  The 
following  will,  therefore,  be  a  profitable 

Exercise. — Point  out  tlie  similes  in  the  following  illus- 
trations, and  endeavor  to  make  the  sentences  equally  for- 
cible without  them : 

A  prudent  man  is  like  a  pin.  His  head  prevents  him  from  go- 
ing too  far. 


Chap.  XXXII. ]  SIMILES.  609 

Make  your  bed  as  a  coffin,  and  your  coffin  will  be  as  a  bed.— 
Jerbold. 

The  world  is  as  a  cocoa-nnt.  There  is  the  vnlgar  ontside  fibre, 
to  be  made  into  door-mats  and  ropes  ;  the  hard  shell,  good  for  beer 
cups  ;  and  the  white,  delicate  kernel,  the  real  worth,  food  for  the 
gods. — JmuioiiD. 

Romance  and  poetry,  ivy,  lichens,  and  wall- flowers,  need  ruin  to 
make  them  grow. — Hawthorne. 

A  narrow  mind  cannot  be  enlarged,  nor  can  a  capacious  one  be 
contracted.  Aie  we  augiy  with  a  phial  for  not  being  a  flask ?  or 
do  we  wonder  that  the  skin  of  an  elephant  sits  uneasily  on  a  squir- 
rel ? — Landob. 

A  finger-breadth  at  band  will  mar 
A  world  of  lixht  in  heaven  afar. 
A  mot«  eclipse  yon  glorious  star, 
An  eye-lid  hide  the  sky.— Keble. 

Did  you  ever  hear  my  definition  of  matrimony?  It  is  that  it 
resembles  a  pair  of  sheara,  so  joined  that  they  cannot  be  separated, 
often  moving  in  opposite  directions,  yet  always  punishing  any  one 
who  comes  between  them. — Sydney  SMrrn. 

He  would  as  soon  undertake  to  peddle  jewelry  at  the  door  of  a 
Friends'  meeting-house. — Hervey. 

According  to  the  laws  of  sound  didactics,  the  teacher  is  not 
only  to  let  himself  down  to  the  capacity  of  the  learner,  but  to  re- 
member that  the  laws  of  the  human  mind  demand  that  it  should 
receive  all  instruction  gradually,  because,  as  Quintilian  says,  dis- 
ciples are  like  narrow-necked  vessels,  which  reject  a  great  quan- 
tity of  the  liquid  that  is  suddenly  poured  upon  them,  but  are 
filled  M-ith  that  which  is  i)oured  into  them  by  degrees. — Hervey. 

A  man's  character  is  like  a  fence — you  cannot  strengthen  it  by 
whitewash. — Camden  Post. 

A  young  negro  bootblack  observed  a  neighbor  poring  wisely 
over  a  newKi)aper,  whereui)on  he  addressed  him  thus:  "Julius, 
what  are  yon  looking  at  that  paper  for?  You  can't  read."  "Go 
away,"  cried  the  other  indignantly  ;  "  guess  I  can  read ;  Fee  big 
enuff  for  thai.**  "Big  enuff!"  retorteil  the  other,  scornfully, 
**«lat  ain't  nnflSn.  A  cow's  big  enu£f  to  catch  mice;  but  she 
can't- 

Frenchmen  are   like  grains   of   gnnpowder— each   by   itself 


610  FIGURATIVE  LAALrtAGB.  [Part  VI. 

smntty  and  oontemptible,  but  mass  them  together  and  they  are 
terrible  indeed. — Oolebidob. 

**  Look  at  Northcote,"  said  Fuaeli ;  "  he  looks  like  a  rat  that 
has  seen  a  cat.** 

Daniel  Webster  struck  me  as  much  like  a  steam-engine  in 
trousers.— Sydney  Smith. 

Why,  look  there  at  Jeihrey ;  and  there  is  my  little  friend , 

who  has  not  body  enough  to  cover  his  mind  decently  with  ;  his  in- 
tellect is  improperly  exposed. — Id. 

Florists  say  that  a  bouquet  of  flowers  is  nerer  perfect  without 
(»ne  yellow  blossom  in  honor  of  the  sun.  So  the  expedients  of 
rhetorical  figure  are  incomplete  without  the  interrogative.  The 
instinct  of  earnest  speech  craves  it,  and  will  always  have  it,  if  the 
speaker's  taste  has  not  been  perverted  by  false  notions  of  dignity. 
—Phelps, 

Unselfishness  admits  the  full  claims  of  all  to  love  that  is  not 
preference.  In  discarding  the  opinion  of  a  former  time  that,  after 
all,  every  one  had  a  right  to  be  selfish,  our  age  has  made  an  ethi- 
cal gain  as  great  as  the  intellectual  gain  which  Newton  brought  to 
his  age  by  the  discovery  of  gravitation. 

Our  Lord  God  doth  like  »  printer,  who  setteth  the  letters  backwards ;  we  see  and  feel 
well  ha  setting,  but  we  shall  see  the  print  yonder  in  the  life  to  oome.—LutAer'g  Table-  Tali: 

A  beautiful  simile.  Add  that  even  in  this  world  the  lives,  es- 
pecially the  autobiographies,  of  eminent  servants  of  Christ  are  like 
the  looking-glass  or  mirror,  which,  reversing  the  types,  renders 
them  legible  to  us.— Coleridge. 

The  memory  grips  and  appropriates  what  it  does  not  under- 
stand— appropriates  it  mechanically,  like  a  magpie  stealing  a  silver 
spoon,  without  knowing  what  it  is,  or  what  to  do  with  it.  The 
memoiT  cannot  help  itself.  It  is  a  kleptomaniac  and  lets  nothing 
go  by. — Dallas. 

If  you  had  listened  to  it  in  one  of  those  brief  sabbaths  of  the  soul,  when  the  activity 
and  discurrfvenesg  of  the  thoughts  are  suspended,  and  the  mind  quietly  eddies  around  in- 
stead of  flowing  onward — (as  at  late  evening  in  the  spring  I  have  seen  a  bat  wheel  in 
silent  circles  round  and  round  a  fruit-tree  in  full  blossom,  in  the  midst  of  which,  as  within 
a  close  tent  of  the  purest  white,  an  unseen  nightingale  was  piping  its  sweetest  notes)— in 
such  a  mood  you  might  have  half-fancied,  half-felt,  that  her  voice  had  a  separate  being 
of  its  own— that  it  was  a  living  something,  the  mode  of  existence  of  which  was  for  the  ear 
only.— CouEBiDOX. 


Chap.  XXXIL]  METAPHOR.  611 

Again,  •  penon  who  is  more  properly  to  be  regarded  a«  an  antiquarian  than  anything 
elae  will  aometimefl  be  regarded  as  high  authority  on  nome  subject  respecting  which  he 
has  perhaps  little  or  no  real  knowledge  or  capacity,  if  he  have  collected  a  multitude  of 
facts  relative  to  it.  Suppose,  for  instance,  a  man  of  much  reading  and  of  retentive  mem- 
ory, but  of  unphilosophtcal  mind,  to  have  amaswd  a  great  collection  of  particulars  re- 
specting the  writers  on  some  science,  the  times  when  they  flourished,  the  numbers  of  their 
followers,  etc.,  it  is  not  unlikely  he  may  lead  both  others  and  himself  into  the  belief  that 
he  is  a  great  authority  on  that  science ;  when  perhai)S  he  may  really  know— though  a 
great  deal  about  it— nothing  of  it.  Such  a  man's  mind,  comparetl  with  that  of  one  really 
versed  in  the  subject,  is  like  an  antiquarian  armory,  full  of  curions  old  weapons,  many  of 
them  the  more  precious  from  having  been  long  sui)erse«led ;  as  compared  with  a  well- 
stocked  arsenal,  containing  all  the  mobt  approved  warlike  implements  fit  for  actual  ser- 
Tioe.— Whatelt. 

Cbitics.— Sir  Henry  Wotton  used  to  say,  and  Bacon  deemed  the  saying  valuable 
enough  to  be  entered  in  his  book  of  Apothegms,  that  they  are  but  bnishers  of  gentle- 
men's clothes ;  Ben  Jonson  spoke  of  them  as  tinkers,  who  make  more  faults  than  they 
mend  ;  Samuel  Butler,  an  the  fierce  inquisitors  of  wit,  and  an  butchers  who  have  no  right 
to  sit  on  a  jury;  Sir  Richard  Steele,  as  of  all  mortals  the  silliest;  Swift,  as  dogrs,  rats, 
wasps,  or  at  beat  the  drones  of  the  l(*arne<l  world  ;  Shen!«tone,  ns  aKs<*->,  which  by  gnawing 
the  vines  first  taught  the  advantaKu  of  pruning  them;  Buiuh,  as  cutrthroat  tmndits  in 
the  path  of  fame ;  Washington  Irving,  as  freebooters  in  the  republic  of  letters;  and  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  humorously  reflecting  the  general  sentiment,  an  caterpillars.  .  .  .  Critics 
have  always  had  a  strong  cannibtvl  instinct  Thoy  have  not  only  snapped  at  the  poets  ; 
they  have  devom-ed  one  another.  It  socms  as  If,  like  Diana*s  priest  at  Aricia,  a  critic 
could  not  attain  his  high  office  ext^ept  by  slaughter  of  the  priest  already  installed  ;  or  as 
if  he  had  been  framed  in  the  im.igc  of  that  serpent  which  the  old  legends  tell  us  cannot 
bectimo  a  dragon  unlesti  it  swallows  another  wrpent.  .  .  .  Hissing  is  the  only  soimd 
in  nature  that  can  awaken  no  echo  ;  and  if  criticism  is  naught  but  hissing,  can  do  naught 
but  hiss,  it  is  altogether  a  mistake. —Daixas. 

The  old  Oeronomltc  in  the  Escurial  said  to  Wilkie,  as  he  stood  in  the  refectory  Razing 
on  Titian's  picture  of  the  Last  Supi>er :  "  I  have  sat  daily  in  sight  of  that  picture  for  now 
nearly  t h roe -s<x)rc  years;  during  that  lime  my  companions  have  dropped  off,  one  after 
another.  More  than  one  generation  has  passed  away,  and  there  the  figures  in  that  pic- 
ture ri>main  unchanued.  1  look  at  them  till  I  sometimis  think  that  thoy  are  the  realities, 
and  we  bot  the  i 


(g)  Metaphor  is  simile  without  the  form  of  compari- 
.<t>M,  one  object  ])einf^  spoken  of  not  as  like  another,  but  as 
another ;  as,  "  Man,  thou  pendulum  'twixt  a  smile  and 

Mt  taphor  is  affirmed  by  some  to  consist  in  things,  bj  others 
to  oijusiat  in  words.  Aristotle  comprehends  synecdoche  under  the 
term  metaphor.  *'  A  metaphor,"  says  he,  *•  is  a  transposition  of  a 
nonn  from  its  proper  signification,  either  from  the  genos  to  the 
species  or  from  the  species  to  the  genus,  or  from  species  to  species, 


^»12  FIGlliAini.    La:>ui  Alii:.  [Tart  VI. 

or  according  to  analogy."     .     .     .     These  are  illustrated  by  Aris- 
totle thus : 

A  tiansposition  from  species  to  species  is  such  as 

The  bnma  taktkm  drsw  awaj  hisUf«; 

and 

Cot  bjtiMivthlMifWQvd. 

For  here,  in  the  first  case,  to  draw  awa^  is  nsed  instead  of  to 
cut ;  and  in  the  second,  tocuiia  used  instead  of  to  draw  away ; 
since  both  imply  taking  something  away.  ...  I  say,  for  in- 
stance, a  cnp  has  a  similar  relation  to  Bacchus  that  a  shield  has 
to  Mars.  Hence  a  shield  may  be  called  the  cnp  of  Mars,  and  a  cup 
the  shield  of  Bacchus.  One  may  therefore  say  that  evening  is  the 
old  age  of  day,  and  that  old  age  is  the  evening  of  life. 

Tlie  metaphor  and  the  simile  often  assist  each  other.  The  sim- 
ile may  first  ix)ini  out  the  resemblance,  and  then  as  the  discourse 
quickens  its  jiace  the  words  denoting  comiiarison  are  thrown  aside 
as  a  cloak  of  cumbersome  weight;  or,  on  the  contrary,  the  too 
swift  discourse  may  slacken  its  pace  in  order  to  state  the  simili- 
tude which  was  before  only  implied,  as  if  to  gather  the  floating 
cloak  more  closely  about  the  person,  that  the  runner  may  be  more 
easily  recognized. — Hebvkt. 

It  is  a  remark  of  Aiifltotle  thai  the  rimOe  is  more  snitable  in  poetry,  and  that  meta- 
phor is  the  only  ornament  ot  lancoage  in  whidi  the  orator  may  freely  indnlge.  They 
may  be  employed  either  to  derate  or  to  degrade  the  sabject,  according  to  the  design  of  the 
•atb<nr;  being  drawn  from  similar  objects  of  a  higher  or  lower  character.  Thos  a  loud 
and  vehement  sitcaker  may  be  deecribed  either  as  bellowing  or  as  thundering.  A  happier 
example  cannot  be  found  than  the  one  which  Aristotle  cites  from  Siroonidefi,  who,  when 
offered  a  hmall  price  for  an  ode  to  celebrate  a  victory  in  a  mule  race,  expressed  his  con- 
tempt for  '*  half-asses,^  as  they  were  oommonly  called :  but  when  a  larger  sum  was  offered 
addressed  them  in  an  ode  as  **  Daughters  of  steeds  swift  hs  the  storm.'''    .    .    . 

We  may  nay,  e.g.,  with  propriety  that  "  Cromwell  trampled  on  the  laws ; '"  it  would 
soond  feeble  to  say  that  *'  he  treated  the  laws  with  the  same  contempt  as  a  man  does  any- 
thing he  tramples  under  his  feet."  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  harsh  and  ob-cure  to 
say,  "  The  stranded  vessel  lay  shaken  by  the  waves,"  meaning  the  wounded  chief  toK-ing 
on  a  bed  of  sickness  :  it  is  therefore  necessary  in  such  a  case  to  state  the  resemolance. 
But  this  is  never  to  be  done  more  fully  than  is  neoessaiy  to  perspicuity  :  because  all  men 
are  more  gratified  at  catching  the  resemblance  for  themselves  than  at  having  it  pointed 
out  to  them. — Whately. 

This  figure  [simile]  occur?  oftenest  in  those  kinds  of  poetry  which  most  nearly  resemble 
oratory,  namely,  the  passionate.  Mr.  Gladstone  has  well  observed  that  in  frequency, 
length,  and  picturesqueness  of  siinlleci  the  pesceful  Odyssey  is  far  behind  the  stormy 
Iliad.  Instead  of  one  hundretl  and  ninety  four  it  has  only  forty -one,  and  these,  with 
few  exceptions,  are,  as  Mr.  Coleridge  thinks,  imitated  from  the  earlier  poem  — Hkbtet. 


Chap.  XXXII.]  METAPHOR.  613 

The  following  are  examples  of  forcible  metaphor : 

Such  themes  given  to  composition  pnpils  as,  "  The  praise  of  in- 
dustry," "The  imjwrtance  of  youth,"  etc.,  are  ostrich  eggs,  upon 
which  the  poor  pupils  sit  and  brood  with  their  too  short  wings  and 
make  nothing  warm  but  themselves. — Jean  Paul. 

The  rude  thought  faculty  which  is  not  expanded  into  intelli- 
gence may  be  sharpened  into  cunning. — John  Foster. 

The  ink  of  female  logic  is  blotted  all  over  with  tears,  and  jus- 
tice in  their  courts  is  forever  in  a  passion. — Thackeray. 

There's  not  a  string  attuned  to  mirth, 
But  has  its  chord  in  melancholy.— Hood. 

Laughter  and  tears  are  meant  to  be  the  wheels  of  the  same 
machinery  of  sensibility.  One  is  wind-jwwer,  the  other  water- 
power.     That's  all  the  difference. — HoiiMES.     % 

The  reason  why  so  few  marriages  are  happy  is  because  young 
ladies  spend  their  time  in  making  nets,  not  in  making  cages. — 
Swift. 

The  people's  prayer,  the  glad  diviner's  theme^ 

The  young  men's  vUion,  and  the  old  men^s  dream.^-DRTDKir. 

For  fear  their  orations  should  giggle  they  would  not  let  them 
smile.— Fuller. 

A  little  boy  ran  away  from  home,  and,  while  enjoying  himself 
in  forbidden  fields,  a  thundor-storni  came  up,  and  it  began  to  hail. 
His  guilty  conscience  needed  no  accuser.  Running  home  he  burst 
into  the  presence  of  his  astonished  mamma,  exclaiming  breath- 
lessly :  "  Ma,  ma,  God's  f rowing  stones  at  me !  " 

But  I  will  at  least  promise  ray  readers  that  they  shall  neither 
find  me  so  dictatorial  in  my  statements,  nor  so  bigoted  to  my  own 
opinions  as  to  hold  myself  above  correction.  If  I  offer  them  the 
rough  quartz  of  my  own  digging,  I  shall  rejoice  if  they  extract  the 
gold,  even  though  tlioy  crush  the  ore  to  do  so.  — Blaokley. 

As  condensed  similes,  metaphors  must  escape 
triteness,  of  which  they  are  in  greater  danger,  because 
unconscions  metaphor  forms  so  prominent  an  element  of 
common  speech. 

The  metaphor,  i  y  jMssiiig  into  common  speech,  degenerates 
into  a  literal  term  ;  and  the  sjmbolio  phrase  comes  at  length  to 


614  FIGURATIVE  LANOUAOB.  [Part  VL 

be  debased  into  a  trite  and  anixnaginative  idiom.  The  silver  coin, 
by  daily  circulation  and  occasional  clippings,  loses  at  last  the 
image  and  superscription  of  Gtesar.  The  ^ngnl^r  fragment  which 
some  mad  storm-wave  smites  oat  of  the  ocean,  rolls  down  among 
the  shingle,  and  there,  in  all  weathers,  runs  regalarly  np  and  down 
the  beach,  along  with  its  more  polished  acquaintances,  until  it  be- 
comes as  round  and  smooth  as  they.  To  the  common  observer  its 
parentage  is  now  a  mystery  ;  but  the  curious  summer  stroller  finds 
in  its  complexion  and  veins  the  unmistakable  evidences  of  its  ori- 
gin.—Hkbykt. 

Many  English  verbs  are  metaphors  derived  from  the  names  or 
habits  of  animals.  Thus  we  "  crow  over"  a  |)erson,  like  a  cock ; 
we  **  quail,**  as  that  bird  does,  in  the  presence  of  danger ;  we 
**  cai)er,**  as  a  goat  (caper)  ;  we  "  duck  *'  our  heads  ;  we  "  ferret  ** 
a  thing  out;  we  ^dog^a  person's  footsteps;  we  "sneak,"  like 
a  snake  ;  we  "  strut,**  like  an  ostrich  (stronthos),  and  so  on. 

In  the  following  extract  the  words  italicized  are  astrological 
terms  now  adapted  and  used  without  a  thought  of  their  original 
significance : 

I  ahoold  eoHttder  any  CDt«fi»iae  nndartalcen  under  his  autf>4ee»  m-«tarred  and  likely 
to  «nd  in  <HHMMr,  and  ■hoold  amgmr  moat  unfaTorably  for  ita  niooeaa,  if  entructed  in  an 
mU  ktmr  to  one  of  sooh  9tnmtr  mptti  and  akotnimtMt  oharaoter.— Bi^cklbt. 

To  these  might  be  added  : 

Jovial,  mercurial^  marHal,  sahmune,  in  the  ascendant,  culminaie, 
lunatic,  etc. 

Puns  sometimes  enter  into  metaphor  ;  as, 

It  was  the  prejudice  of  an  exemplary  schoolmaster  to  prefer  one 
slip  of  olive  to  a  whole  grove  of  birch. — jEBBOiiD. 

Even  with  this  load  uf>on  it  the  metaphor  may  enter 
into  ordinary  speech.  Thus  the  bank  of  the  canal  oppo- 
site the  tow-path  was  by  somebody's  pun  upon  "  toe- 
path  "  spoken  of  as  the  "  heel-path.''  The  designation, 
being  needed,  was  adopted,  and  is  now  used  daily  by 
boatmen,  who  never  dream  that  its  liistory  embodies  an 
idle  gibe. 


Chap.  XXXII.]  METAPHOR.  615 

Completeness  is  essential  to  effective  metaphor:  as 
when  a  very  tall,  lank  man  is  spoken  of  as  seven  feet 
sleep. 

Wolsey's  metaphor  is  complete  when  he  says  that  this  is  the 
state  of  man  :  *•  To  day  he  puts  forth  the  tender  leaves  of  hope  ; 
to  morrow  blossoms,  and  bears  his  blushing  honors  thick  upon 
him ;  the  third  day  comes  a  frost,  a  killing  frost,  and,  when  he 
thinks,  gootl,  easy  man,  full  surely  his  greatness  is  a-ripening, 
nips  his  root,  and  then  he  falls,  as  I  do." 

Some  care  is  accordingly  requisite  in  order  that  they  may  be 
readily  comprehended  and  may  not  have  the  appearance  of  being 
far-fetched  and  extravagant.  For  this  purpose  it  is  usual  to  com- 
bine with  the  metaphor  a  proper  term  which  explains  it,  viz., 
either  attributing  to  the  term  in  its  transferred  sense  something 
which  does  not  belong  to  it  in  its  literal  sense,  or,  vice  versa, 
denying  it  in  its  transferred  sense  something  which  does  be- 
long to  it  in  its  literal  sense.  To  call  the  sea  the  * '  watery  bul- 
wark "  of  our  island  would  be  an  instance  of  the  former  kind  ;  an 
example  of  the  latter  is  the  expression  of  a  writer  who  speaks  of 
the  disijei-sion  of  some  hostile  fleet  by  the  winds  and  waves,  •*  those 
ancient  and  unsubsidized  allies  of  England." 

Aristotle  has  cited  several  examples  from  Homer,  as  '  •  the  rag- 
ing arrow,"  "  the  dai'ts  eager  to  taste  of  flesh,"  *'  the  shameless  (or 
as  it  might  be  rendered  \inth  more  exactness  though  with  less  dig- 
nity, the  provoking)  Htone,"  Xam  01/(118179,  which  mocks  the  efforts  of 
Sisyphus.  There  is  a  peculiar  aptness  in  some  of  these  expres- 
sions which  the  modem  student  is  likely  to  overlook  ;  an  arrow  or 
dart,  from  flying  with  a  spinning  motion,  quivers  violently  when 
it  is  fixed,  thus  suggesting  the  idea  of  a  person  quivering  with 
eagerness.  — -Whatkli. 

In  general,  metaphors  should  reveal  new  beauties  as  they 
are  more  closely  studied.  But  they  should  not  be  pressed 
too  far  in  interpretation — a  frequent  mistake,  especially  in 
biblical  criticism.  They  are  intended  to  }x)int  out  likeness 
in  a  certain  direction,  and  it  should  not  Iw  inferred  that 
the  likeness  extends  to  all  qualities  and  characteristics. 


616  FIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  [Part  VI. 

It  hardly  need  be  added  that  care  most  be  taken  to 
avoid  ambiguous  alhisions.     ThuB : 

When  a  ladj  li\'ing  in  Chelsea  sent  to  London  for  a  doctor,  she 
apologized  for  asking  him  to  oome  such  a  distance.  "Don't 
speak  of  it,**  answered  the  M.D.,  *'I  happen  to  have  another  jm- 
tient  in  the  neighborhood,  and  can  thns  kill  two  birds  with  one 


Mixed  MetaphorSy  or  a  combination  in  one  figure 
of  two  diilereiit  comparisons,  are  an  es^^ecial  danger  to 
careless  writers.     Thus : 

I  do  not  want  to  handle,  to  proftme  the  leaves  their  itinding 
$heets.  I  conid  as  soon  dislodge  a  shade.  I  seem  to  inhale  learn- 
ing walking  amid  iheir /olitige. — Lamb. 

Hei-e  the  leaves  of  the  books  in  a  library  are  lirst  com- 
pared to  the  "  winding  sheets "  of  their  authors,  and  are 
immediately  afterward  compared  to  the  "foliage"  of 
trees. 

Campbell  points  out  that  we  may  say  with  Dryden : 

All  hands  ranplojed,  the  royal  work  grows  warm ; 

but  that  it  is  incongruous  to  say,  "  One  of  the  hands  fell 
overboard  ; "  "  All  our  hands  are  asleep." 

So  we  may  speak  of  descrying  a  sail,  but  not  of  sails 
ploughing  the  main. 

A  fanciful  metaphor  may  be  pushed  too  far,  as  where 
a  reporter  says : 

Winter  has  not  yet  departed,  but  is  sitting  tetiaciously  in  the  lap 
of  spring. 

Similes  may  be  spoiled  in  the  same  way,  as  in  the  fol- 
lowing paragraph  from  the  Neio  York  Herald  of  October 
28,  1883: 

People  build  houses  by  putting  all  the  carved  freestone  and 


Ciivi.  XXXII.l  MIXED  METAPHORS.  617 

costly  ombellishments  on  the  front,  and  all  the  cheap  brick  at  the 
back.     Some  characters  are  built  in  the  same  way  precisely. 

Here  tlie  last  word  is  intended  to  strengthen,  but  un- 
dermines the  comparison. 

The  following  metaphor,  puslied  to  absurdity,  is  from 
the  New  York  Swi  : 

It  wa.s  the  novel  on  the  Land  League,  undertaken  for  a  weekly 
paper,  which  was  the  last  straw  on  the  back  of  that  esLhausted  lit- 
eraiy  camel,  Mr.  Anthony  Trollope. 

The  following  are  instances  of  metapbor  not  complete 
enough  to  be  obvious  : 

A  man's  power  is  hooped  in  by  a  necessity  which,  by  many 
experiments,  he  touches  on  every  side,  until  he  leanis  its  arc. 
— Emeiwon. 

Channing*s  mind  was  planted  as  thick  with  thoughts  as  a 
backwood  of  his  own  magnificent  land. — Gilfillan. 

Then  I  saw  that  one  cnme  to  PAHsion,  and  brought  him  a  bag  of  treaAurc,  and  pouml 
it  down  at  hio  feet;  the  which  he  ttmk  up  and  rejoiced  therein,  iind  withal  Unghetl  Pa- 
tience to  Mum ;  but  I  beheld  but  a  while,  and  be  had  lavished  all  away,  and  ha4l  nothlDg 
left  him  bat  rags.**— Buiitaii*b  PUgrim'a'  ProgrtsM. 

One  of  the  not  many  instances  of  faulty  allegory  in  the  '•Pil- 
grim's Progress ;  "  that  is,  it  is  no  allegory.  The  beholding  "  but 
a  while,"  and  the  change  into  "nothing  but  rags,"  is  not  legiti- 
mately imaginable.  A  longer  time  and  more  interludes  are  re- 
quisite. It  is  a  hybrid  compost  of  usual  images  and  generalized 
words,  hke  the  Nilebom  nondescript,  with  a  heatl  or  tail  of 
organized  flesh,  and  a  lump  of  semi-mud  for  the  body.  Yet 
perhaps  these  very  defects  are  practically  excellencies  in  relation 
to  the  intended  readers  of  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress.**    .     .     . 

"  And  the  otlier  took  dirrctly  np  the  way  to  Deetrnotlon.  which  led  him  into  a  wide 
field,  fall  of  dark  mountaina,  where  he  ntombled  and  fell,  end  hmc  no  more.'*— Bvmtav. 

This  requires  a  comment.  A  wide  field  full  of  monntains,  and 
of  dark  mountains,  where  Hypocrite  stumbled  and  fell  I  The 
images  here  are  unusually  obscure. — OoiiKBiDom. 


618  PIGURATIVE  LANGUAGE.  (Part  VI. 

The  following  are  examples  of  mixed  metaphors : 

Ck>leridge  quotes  a  ludicroas  insftaQoe  in  the  poem  of  a  joong 
tnulesman : 


Nomorawtn  I 

Or  rooMl  «y  AmtT*  liV  tk  hk  gmllli« 

**  After  lunch  the  benches  were  remored  and  Teriidchore  spread 
her  wings  over  the  assemblage  of  ladies  and  gentlemen.'*  Ob- 
viously this  reporter  was  so  modest  that  he  did  not  like  to  make 
the  customary  allusion  to  the  muse's  light,  fantaHtic  toe,  and  so 
made  her  danoe  with  her  wings. 

Virginia  has  an  iron  diain  of  mountains  running  through  her 
centre,  which  Qod  has  placed  there  to  milk  the  clouds  and  to  be 
the  source  of  her  silver  rivers. — Qovbbhob  Wibb. 

Ttaera,  when  thy  flagor  aooralifd  th*  tablat^tooe. 
Than,  wiMra  thy  dMkkm  to  thy  people  dM»e.— Btboh. 

I  need  the  qmiiietliy  of  homan  teoaa, 

To  beet  mmmy  thU  deep  ountampt  for  thfaige. 

Which  qneaohro  iqy  revenge.  — Colikioob. 

A  charming  old  pedant  in  the  countrr,  on  learning  that  a  favor- 
ite pupil  of  his  had  been  taken  upon  the  staff  of  a  Boston  ])aper, 
wrote  to  the  editor-in  chief  concerning  the  young  man:  "If  he 
should  have  a  career  I  shall  be  verv'  happy  in  thinking  that  the 
spark  which  I  have  watered  contained  in  it  the  germ  of  a  stiiicture 
destined  to  soar  and  elevate  with  its  radiance  your  pri%ileged 
readers.**  He  also  advised  the  eilitor  to  **  give  the  yonnp  man  a 
hint  that  may  quench  the  seeds  of  ambition  ere  yet  they  swell  to 
a  gale  that  will  take  the  bits  between  its  teeth  and  dazzle  by  its 
clamor.'* — Boston  Courier. 

At  lenirtb  Emsmns,  that  greet  injured  name, 
(The  glory  of  Hie  pricBthnod,  and  the  f^hame  !) 
Stranmed  the  wild  torrent  of  a  barbarooR  age. 
And  drove  those  holy  Vandals  off  the  stage.— POPK. 

When  the  tongue  goes  upon  stilts,  reason  spreads  but  half  her 
sails.  — Tholuck. 

The  Court  of  Chancery  frequently  mitigates  and  breaks  the  teeth 
of  the  common  law. — Spectator. 

Take  arms  against  a  sea  of  trouble. — Shaksperb. 


Chap.  XXXII.  I  MIXED  METAPHORS.  619 

There  is  not  a  single  view  of  human  nature  which  is  not  suffi- 
cient to  extinguish  the  seeds  of  pride. — Addison  {quoted  by  dimjh' 
beU), 

Tho  ethereal  maltittide 
Whoee  purple  locks  with  siiow  white  glories  i 


"Purple  locks  and  snow-white  glories,"  these  are  the  things 
the  muse  talks  about  when,  to  borrow  Horace  Walpole's  witty 
phrase,  she  is  not  finely  frenzied,  only  a  little  light-headed,  that's 
all. — **  Puii)le  Locks." — CHARiiES  Lamb,  to  Coleridge. 

As  late  a.s  1860  he  wrote  to  one  who  had  observed  symptoms 
more  than  usually  redolent  of  **  the  arrow  of  soft  tribulations." — 
Lady  EASTL.utE,  Life  of  John  Gibson. 

The  buyer  of  a  horse  may  find  himself  toddled  toUh  a  worthless  animaL— OonUia 
Magatine,  July,  1866. 

A  very  |)ainful  condition,  to  wliich  my  reading  can  find  no  par- 
allel except  in  the  state  of  the  old  gentleman  in  "^Isop's  Fables," 
who,  in  trying  to  please  everybody,  actually  tried  to  carry  his  own 
donkey. — BLACKiiSr. 

If  an  individual  can  break  down  the  safeguards  which  the  con- 
stitution has  wisely  and  cautiously  erected,  by /x>i«(wii;j^  the  minds 
of  the  jury  at  a  time  when  they  are  called  upon  to  decide,  he  will 
stab  the  administration  of  justice  in  its  most  vital  part. — Lobd 
Kexyon. 

Li  sentencing  a  butler  convicted  of  stealing  his  master's  wine, 
he  thus  described  the  culprit's  conduct :  '*  Dead  to  every  claim  of 
natural  afiection,  and  blind  to  your  own  interest,  you  burst  through 
all  the  restraints  of  religion  and  morality,  and  have  for  many  years 
\^eenfeat?u*rijigi/(nir  nest  with  your  master's  bottles. — Id. 

The  Force  of  simile  and  metaphor  lies  in  the  readi- 
iit'ss  of  men  to  perceive  and  accept  a  comparison. 

H« >\v  charmingly,  however,  did  the  po<ir  woman  reply  to  the 
gfittlfinan  who  foand  her  watering  her  webs  of  linen  cloth.  She 
cotUd  not  tell  him  even  the  text  of  the  last  sermon.  "  And  what 
good  can  the  preaching  do  you,  if  you  forget  it  all  ?  "  '*  Ah,  sir, 
if  you  will  look  at  this  web  on  the  grass,  you  will  see  that  as  fast 
as  ever  I  put  the  water  on  it  the  sun  dries  it  all  up,  and  yet, 
sir,  I  see  it  gets  whiter  and  whiter."    This  is  pure  wit  from  the 


620  PIGURATIVB  LANOUAOR  [Paui  VI 

well  of  the  imagination,  aud  the  simile  is  deep  in  it  ub  liulL. — 
Wbdw. 

What  gives  the  principal  delight  to  the  imagination  in  the  ex- 
hibition of  a  strong  likeneaa  which  escapee  the  notice  of  the  gen- 
erality of  people.- 


Th>  Bnglkli  pabUo  to  not  yt  ri|»  to  eomynimtd  Vbm  timmttu}  dMhwno  battrean  the 
nMoo  and  Um  andantandinc— batwean  •  principle  nnd  •  nMudm— an  atemal  truth  and 
a  mara  oondnrioii  fanrraliaed  from  a  gnat  nombar  of  teola.  A  man  havin«  Neen  a  miW 
UoB  HMM-niaaa  all  rad,  cnndadaa  from  hit  own  atparlam*  and  that  of  oChara  that  al 
moai-roaaa  ara  rad.  That  to  a  mazim  with  him— tha  fraotaat  aiMant  of  hto  knowtodea 
upon  tha  nbjaoL  But  it  to  only  tnia  nntU  aoma  gardanar  haa  pndaoad  a  whit«  moaa- 
roae ;  after  whkh  tha  maxim  to  good  for  noihing.  A^aln,  anppoae  Adam  watching  the 
aun  Nlnldnff  under  tha  weMem  horiaoo  Cur  the  fint  Urae;  be  to  aataed  with  gloom  and  ter- 
ror, reUarad  by  aoaroe  a  ray  of  hope  that  be  dwll  errr  aae  tha  gloriona  light  again.  The 
next  evening  when  it  decUoca  hia  hopes  are  ■tixmifiT.  but  i«Ul  ndxed  with  fear ;  and  even 
at  the  and  of  a  thouaand  yaart  all  that  a  man  can  feel  to  a  hope  and  an  expectation  ao 
atrong  aa  to  pradude  anxiety.  Now  compare  thto  in  ita  hlgheat  degree  with  the  aaeor- 
anoe  which  yon  have  that  the  two  ddoa  of  any  triangto  ara  greater  than  tha  third.  Thia, 
demonatrated  of  one  trtaagle,  to  aeon  to  be  eternally  tme  of  all  imaginable  triangtoi^ 
Thto  to  a  troth  pmvsrived  at  OBoe  by  the  Uitnttlvereaaon.lndependenUy  of  experience.  It 
to  and  mMt  ever  beau,  multiply  and  vary  the  dmpea  and  aispa  of  triangtoa  aa  yoamay.— 

Allegory  is  a  continued  comparison,  or  a  composition 
in  which  the  language  is  figurative  throughout.  Tlie  Fa- 
ble and  Parable  belong  to  this  class.  In  all  these  composi- 
tions, abstract  truths  are  represented  bj  sensible  objects, 
or  human  affairs  are  described  under  the  image  of  the 
conduct  of  the  lower  animals,  and  of  the  processes  of  na- 
ture.    This  also  involves  Personification. 

The  Fable  was  regarded  by  Aristotle  as  quite  different  from 
the  Parable.  He  taught  that  there  are  two  kinds  of  examples,  the 
]iarable  and  the  *'  logos."  The  latter  is  the  fable,  '*  like  those  of 
^Esop,  and  the  African  stories."  But  this  difference  is  owing  to 
his  having  considered  the  parable  as  a  case  supposed,  and  not,  as 
we  do,  a  fictitious  narrative. 

The  chief  distinguishing  features  of  the  fable  are  as  follows  : 

1.  In  the  fable  the  qualities  and  actioas  of  men  may  often  be  attributed  to  bmtes. 

2,  The  fable  is  further  distingnished  from  the  Chri.<tian  parable  by  occasionally  in- 
dalging  itself  in  raillery  an-l  revenue.  In  one  old  Greek  fa»)le,  a  vine  says  to  a  he-goat, 
"  Though  yon  eat  me  down  to  the  root  yet  I  will  yield  wine  enough  to  pour  upon  your 
head  when  you  are  sacrificed." 


"iiM     XXXII]  ALLEGORY.  6^1 

•i.  'I'll.'  fable  is  more  cominonly  than  the  parable  devoted  to  the  inculcatiua  of  ethical 
precrpt-s  anil  pmdential  niaxiuu<. 

Herder  divides  fables  into  three  kinds : 

a.  Theoretic,  or  Biich  as  are  intended  to  form  the  understanding;  e.g.,  of  the  dog 
snapping  at  his  shadow  in  the  water,  the  lamb  rcationing  with  the  wolf,  or  the  hare  hunting 
with  the  lion.     Fables  like  these  are  designed  to  inculcate  the  miiximn  of  sci^ilar  wisdom. 

b.  Moral,  or  those  which  contain  rules  for  the  regulation  of  the  conscience  and  will ; 
as,  "  no  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard,  consider  her  ways  and  be  wi.>^.^"'  Here  we  learn  that 
the  happiness  of  all  living  creatures  is  connected  wiih  \vcll-dirc(-tcd  activity. 

<*.  Fables  of  destiny.  As  we  do  nut  always  see  the  coiineciion  of  cause  and  effect,  we 
iiftcn  call  that  the  effect  of  (ate  or  chance  wliieh  Ix^falls  iih  according  to  the  Mvret  pur- 
pose of  God ;  e.g.,  the  eagle  carries  with  her  plunder  a  coal  from  the  altar,  which  nUs  tire 
to  her  nest,  and  so  her  unfledged  brood  beoomcs  the  prey  of  animals  which  rhe  naa  al- 
ready rubbcil  of  their  yonng. 

d.  Some  ethnic  fables  inculcate  religions  duties ;  e.g.,  in  the  fable  which  represents 
I  he  w.igoner  praying  to  Jupiter  to  lift  hi.s  wagon  out  of  the  mud. 

The  fable  suffers  more  than  any  other  figure  from  an  incongi-u- 
ity.  Thus  Matthew  Arnold,  in  discussing  the  question  whether 
the  Church  of  England  ought  to  be  disestal)Iished,  says  of  tlie  ciy 
of  the  NonconfoiTui.sts  that  it  is  "a  little  like  that  proposal  of  the 
fox  who  had  lost  his  own  tail  to  put  all  the  other  foxes  in  the  same 
boat  by  a  general  cutting  off  of  tails."  The  figurative  phrase  "  in 
the  same  boat "  introduces  an  image  remote  from  the  fable  and 
ridiculous  in  itself.  The  effect  of  such  incongniities  on  the  mind 
is  not  unlike  the  impression  made  on  the  eye  and  the  fancy  by 
putting  into  a  magic-lantern  two  pictures  at  a  time  and  side  by 
side. — HEitVKY. 

The  danger  in  using  ligures  of  all  kiiul.s  ia  that  they 
will  he  employed  for  themselves,  because  they  are  orna- 
mental or  striking,  and  not  because  they  best  e.xpi-ess  the 
thought. 

Tlie  more  apt  and  striking  is  the  analogy  suggested,  the  more 
will  it  have  of  an  artificial  appearance,  and  will  draw  off  th» read- 
er's attention  from  the  subject  to  admire  the  ingenuity  displayed 
in  the  style.  Young  writers  of  genius  ought  especially  to  ask 
themselves  frequently,  not  whether  this  or  that  is  a  striking  ex- 
pression, but  whetlier  it  makes  the  meaning  more  striking  than 
another  ])hrase  would— whether  it  impresses  more  forcibly  the  sen- 
timeut  to  be  conveyed. — Whatbly. 


FIGURATIVE   LANGUAGE.  [Pabt  VI. 

Another  cause  of  obscurity  in  the  use  of  imagery  is  an  excess  of 
imagery.  This  may  obscure  the  mt^aning  by  exaggeration.  It 
may  produce  the  Hame  effect  by  overloading  a  thought  Imagery 
not  needed  to  illustrate  a  thought  must  tend  to  cover  it  from  the 
hearer's  sight  A  hearer's  power  of  perception  may  be  impaired 
by  it  through  mental  weariness.  Few  things  are  so  wearisome  to 
the  brain  as  a  rapid  review  of  a  gallery  of  paintings.  Aside  from 
weariness  of  the  eye,  there  is  an  expenditure  of  thought  in  that 
which  the  spectator  must  supply  by  his  own  imagination.  An  ex- 
cessively pictorial  style  makes  a  similar  demand,  and  produces  a 
similar  effect  Mental  weariness  thun  induced  diminishes  the 
clearness  of  a  hearer's  perception.  Sucb  a  discourse,  therefore, 
lives  in  his  memory  only  as  a  jumble  of  pictures.    .     .    . 

Excess  of  imagery  is  most  hurtful  when  no  imagery  is  needed. 
Take  the  following,  from  John  Quincy  Adams.  His  thought  is 
this,  that  scientists  have  been  obliged  to  coin  nomenclatures  from 
the  Greek  language.  This  is  a  pure  fact  in  philology.  In  a  lit- 
eral statement  it  is  perfectly  clear ;  it  needs  no  pictorial  represen- 
tation. But  Mr.  Adams  vaults  into  the  imaginative  saddle  in  this 
style  : 

The  wxoal  oomblnaiionn  of  Linnciu,  and  tlie  chemical  Mparatioiui  of  Lavoisier,  are 
alike  exhibited  in  Greek  aUiro.  The  lovea  of  the  plaofei  most  marmar  in  the  same  dia- 
lect whidx  alone  can  aoand  the  dirge  over  the  di— olntton  of  water.  Neither  the  nuptials 
of  the  bloMom,  nor  the  generatioa  of  the  gma,  can  be  aooompliahed  bat  under  Grecian 
names.  The  marriage  and  the  divorce,  the  genefmtkm  and  the  destruction,  have  found 
no  name  bj  which  they  coold  walk  the  world,  without  having  reooorse  to  the  language  of 
Demoethenes  and  Homer. 

— Phelps. 

Hence,  some  writers  speak  disdainfully  of  figures ;  and 
others,  who  admit  their  power,  advise  the  neglect  of  them 
on  the  ground  of  their  danger. 

A  new  metaphor  (and  the  same  holds,  though  in  a  lower  degree, 
of  every  trope)  is  never  regarded  with  indifference.  If  it  be  not 
a  beauty,  it  is  a  blemish. — Campbell. 

But  tlie  young  author  may  adopt  this  instrument  of  rhe- 
toric as  freely  as  any  other,  if  he  will  rigorously  hold  by 
the  fundamental  principle  of  all  good  writing,  that  the 


Chap.  XXXII. ]  USE  OF  FIGURES.  623 

most  perfect  expression  of  the  writer's  exact  thought  is 
the  one  aim  to  be  kept  in  view,  and  tliat  all  means  that 
help  to  attain  this  end  are  as  conscientiously  to  be  em- 
ployed, as  all  means  that  obscure  it  are  to  be  discarded. 

Plutarch  says  that  the  most  of  those  who  are  delighted  with 
figures  are  the  childish  and  the  sensual.  Such  early  writers  as 
Aiistotle  have  favored  the  neglect  of  figures  by  confining  their 
chief  attention  to  the  simile  and  the  metaphor,  while  such  later 
rhetoricians  as  Hermogenes  have  confused  and  wearied  their  pu- 
pils with  over  nice  distinctions.  Many  authors  have  made  the 
whole  subject  still  more  distasteful  by  uniformly  quoting  their  ex- 
ami)les  of  figures  from  the  poets,  thus  conveying  the  impression 
that  these  forms  of  style  are  only  suitable  to  poets.  We  need  not 
wonder,  therefore,  that  able  writei-s  on  rhetoric  still  quote  with 
mlmimtion  the  epigram  Ausonius  \iTote  under  the  portrait  of  the 
rhetorician  liufus  :  Ipse  rhetoi-^  est  imago  imuginis. 

For  all  a  rhcturioian^R  rales 

Tcacli  nothinx  but  to  name  his  tools.— Butxir. 

But  a  rhetorician's  iiiles  teach  a  man  also  what  to  do  with  his 
materials,  and  how  to  use  his  tools.  Then,  just  as  if  it  were  of  no 
use  for  a  mechanic  to  have  a  name  for  his  tools,  and  so  keep  them 
in  their  place  and  be  able  to  call  for  them  when  wanted.  Arch- 
bishop Whately  and  his  disciples  have,  both  by  precept  and  ex- 
ample, opened  the  mine  of  figures  only  to  close  it  and  conceal 
it  forever  after.  Mr.  Heniy  Rogers,  the  reviewer,  says  truly  of 
their  style,  that  *'of  all  its  characteristics  the  most  striking  and 
the  most  general  is  the  moderate  use  of  the  imft<jination."  .  .  . 
Cicero  comjiares  the  u.se  of  figures  to  the  exercises  of  the  palies- 
tra.  As  those  who  study  fencing  and  polite  exercises  not  only 
think  it  necessary  to  acquire  skill  in  parrying  and  striking,  but 
also  grace  and  elegance  of  motion,  so  the  orator  must  use  such 
words  as  not  only  contribute  to  elegance,  but  also  to  impressive- 
ness.  To  the  same  purpose  Quintilian  says  :  "  Figures  penetrate 
imperceptibly  into  the  mind  of  the  judge.  Indeed,  as  in  a  passage 
of  arms,  it  is  easy  to  see,  pany,  and  ward  off  direct  and  nndis- 
guised  strokes,  while  side-blows  and  feints  are  less  observable ; 
and  as  it  is  a  proof  of  art  to  aim  at  one  part  when  you  intend  to  hit 


^»54  FIGURATTVF:    rwriUAOR  [PaktVI. 

ftuothor,  so  tliat  kintl  of  oratoiv  wintli  is  free  from  arlilioo  cau 
fight  only  with  its  uwu  iiu're  weight  and  force ;  hut  tliut  kiiul 
which  disguises  aud  varies  its  atta^-ks  i-au  assail  the  flaiik  or  nmr 
of  an  enemy,  can  turn  aside  his  weapons  aud  d«'<*'iv..  l.i»..  hs  it 
were,  with  a  nod.**    .     .     . 

Lord  Karnes  has  said  that  in  expressing  any  severe  i^asauu  that 
wholly  occupies  the  mind,  metaphor  is  improi)er.  He  seews  to 
have  overlooked  the  facH  that  metaphor  is  the  natural  and  8}>oiita- 
neous  language  of  the  all-absorbing  passions.  His  lordship  would 
have  been  nearer  right  if  he  had  applied  his  rule  to  the  proper 
use  of  allegories,  or  other  long  trains  of  iniplitHl  resi'mblaiices. 
Dr.  Carson  is  hardly  less  wrong  when  he  affirms  tliat,  with  few 
exceptions,  grief,  des|iair,  or  any  of  the  dispiriting  imssious  is 
seldom  found  to  employ  this  figure.  The  b<>«>V  hi><i  lamentations 
of  Jeremiah  make  short  work  with  this  theor^ 

Some  rhetoricians  advise  us  never  to  make  u.sc  of  the  same 
woixl  to  express  metaphorically  opiK>8ite  ideas.  Others,  discussing 
tlie  subject  philosophically,  claim  to  have  discovered  that  all  man- 
kind make  metaphors  according  to  certain  universal  laws.  Thus, 
Bichter  has  obserN'ed  that  no  nation  calls  error  light,  and  truth 
darkness.  But  it  should  be  remembered  that,  as  Glassins  has  in- 
dicated, the  many  different  qualities  and  attributes  of  the  same 
object  may  be  used  to  convey  metaphorically  many  diverse  ideas. 
Christ  is  called  a  lion,  and  so  is  Satan.  Sleep  expresses  at  once 
the  hopeful  repo.se  of  the  blessed  dead,  and  the  false  security  of 
sinners.  The  sim  denotes  happiness  and  unhapjaness.  A  shadow 
signifies  protection  ;  also  great  jjerils  and  adversities.  A  river  de- 
notes plenty  of  blessings  ;  it  likewise  expresses  terrors  and  over- 
whelming evils.  The  harvest  is  used  in  both  a  good  and  a  bad 
sense.  — Hebtey. 

HOW  THEY  PLAY  THE  PIANO  IN  NEW  ORLEANS. 

"  I  wms  loafing  aroand  the  FtreeU  last  night,"'  sai<i  Jim  Nclran,  one  of  the  oldest  loco- 
motive engineere  running  into  New  Orleans,  '^and  as  I  had  nothing  to  do  I  dropped  into 
a  concert,  and  heanl  a  dick-looking  Frenchman  plaj-  a  piano  in  a  way  that  niu<le  me 
feel  all  over  in  spots.  As  soon  as  hi-  sat  down  on  the  ^too^  I  knew  b}-  the  way  he  han- 
dled himself  that  he  nnderKtmnl  the  machine  he  was  ninning.  He  tapped  the  keys  away 
np  one  end,  just  as  if  they  were  gange«>,  and  he  wanted  to  see  if  he  had  water  enongh. 
Then  he  looked  np,  as  if  he  wante«l  to  know  how  mnch  steam  he  was  carrying,  and  the 
next  moment  he  polled  open  the  throttle  nnd  sailed  out  on  tlic  main  line  as  if  he  wjis 
half  an  hour  lateu 


Chap.  XXXII.]  USE  OF   FIGURES.  625 

"  You  coald  hcnr  her  thunder  over  culverts  and  bridf^es,  and  getting  faiiter  and  faater, 
until  the  fellow  rocked  about  in  his  seat  like  a  cradle.  Somehow  I  thought  it  was  old 
'  3(P  pulling  a  passenger  train  nnd  getting  out  of  the  way  of  u  '  ^pt'cial.'  The  fcUuw 
worked  the  keys  on  the  middle  division  like  lightning,  and  then  he  (lew  along  the  north 
eud  of  the  line  until  the  drivens  went  around  like  a  buzz-saw,  and  I  go.  excited.  About 
the  time  I  was  flxing  to  tc>ll  him  to  cut  her  off  a  liitle,  he  kicked  the  dam|>er8  under  the 
mschine  wide  o|)en,  pulleil  the  throttle  away  back  in  the  tender,  and — Jerusalem  jump- 
ers !  how  he  did  run  !  I  couldn't  sUnd  it  any  longer,  and  yelled  to  him  that  she  was 
'pounding'  on  the  left  side,  and  if  he  wasn't  cnreful  he'd  dro|)  his  ash  pan. 

"But  he  d.dn't  hear.  No  one  heanl  me.  Everything  was  flying  and  whizzing. 
Telegraph  )>oles  on  the  side  of  the  track  looke<I  like  a  row  of  corn-stalks,  the  trees  a|>- 
fiearcil  to  be  a  mud-bunk,  and  all  the  time  the  exhaust  of  the  old  machine  sounded  like 
the  hum  of  a  bnmble-bfc.  1  tried  fo  yell  out,  but  my  tongue  wouldn't  move.  He  went 
around  curves  like  a  bullet,  siipi)e<i  an  eccentric,  blew  out  his  soft  plug,  went  down 
gmd)  8  fifty  feet  to  the  nule,  an<l  not  a  confounded  brake  set.  She  went  by  the  meeting 
point  at  a  mile  and  ii  half  u  minute,  and  calling  for  more  steam.  My  hair  stood  up  like 
a  cat's  tall.  iMH-nUKC  I  knew  the  game  woa  up. 

"  Sure  enough,  dead  ahead  of  us  was  the  head-light  of  the  '  special.'  In  a  daze  I 
hcinl  the  crash  as  they  struck,  and  I  saw  cars  shivered  into  atom.s,  \k  pie  m.iKhed  and 
mangled  and  bleeding  i«nd  gasping  for  water.  I  hrard  another  crash  at  the  French  pro- 
.'OfMor  struck  the  deep  keys  away  down  on  the  lower  end  of  the  soitthern  div  isiun,  and 
then  I  came  to  my  censes.  There  he  wns  nt  a  dead  standstill,  with  the  door  of  the 
flre-liox  of  the  ni  ichine  o|)en,  wiping  the  perspinition  off  his  face  and  bowing  at  the 
people  before  him.  If  1  live  t.»  b.-  h  thousand  years  old  I'll  never  forget  the  ride  thai 
Frenchman  gave  mo  on  a  piano." — Time«- Democrat, 


TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 

Figurative  Language,  p.  001. 
Cl^inxiju'titutu  of  Fif/nirXf  j>.  002. 

II.  Figures  founded  on  resemblance,  p.  602. 
l>.  Figures  founded  on  relation,  p  002. 

e.   Figures  Imvinjr  mi  a|)pnrent  inconsistency  between  the  literal 
and  (lirurativ«t  meanint:,  ]>   <;'••_> 

d.  Elliptical  liirurcs,  p.  002. 

e.  Pleona.HtiR  ligureB.  p.  (M)2. 

,      /.   Figures  of  arranceraent,  p  <>(i'2. 

g.  Person ification,  aiKwUrophf.  .xi  lamation,  interjection,  p.  602. 

h.  Grammatical  IlL'iires,  p.  OUii. 

•*.  Complex  figuns,  p.  r.ot». 
Cftitf  Fiffurm: 

It.  Personiflcation,  p.  (111*.*. 


626  TOPICAL  ANALYSIS.  [Paet  VL 

Apoitrophe,  p.  608. 
EzeUmaiion,  p.  608. 
b.  Metonjmj,  p.  601 

1.  Concrete  and  abstract,  p.  604. 

2.  Effect  and  cause,  p.  604. 
8.  Author  and  worka,  p.  601 

€1  Synecdoche,  p.  604. 

d.  Hjperbole,  p.  601 

e,  Ironj,  p.  60ft. 

Epigram,  p.  60ft. 
/.  Simile,  p.  606. 

1.  Unezpectednen,  p.  606. 

Belittling  similes,  p.  606. 

2.  AdapUbility,  p.  607. 

Metaphor  inconsistent,  p.  607. 
g.  Metaphor,  p.  611. 

Metaphors  condensed  similes,  p.  618. 
Completeness,  p.  615. 
Mixed  metaphors,  p.  616. 
f'orct*  of  simile  and  metaphor,  p.  610. 
Allegory,  p.  620 

Thb  fable,  p.  620. 

DitHnguithing  featwrtt : 

1.  Qualities  of  men  attributed  to  brutes,  p.  630. 

2.  Distinguished  from  the  Christian  parable  by  occa- 

sional raillery  and  revenge,  p.  620. 
8.  Inculcates  ethical  principles  and  prudential  max- 
ims, p.  621. 
Kinds  of  fables : 

a.  Theoretic,  p.  621. 

b.  Moral,  p.  621. 

c.  Fables  of  destiny,  p.  621. 

d.  Religious  fables,  p.  621. 
Danger  in  using  figures,  p.  621. 


CHAPTER  XXXUI. 

RHYTHM. 

Thongh  the  poet*8  matter  nature  be. 

His  art  doth  give  the  fnshion.     .     .     . 

For  a  good  poct^K  made  as  well  as  bom.— Bin  Joksoh. 

O  manj  are  the  poets  that  are  80>%'n 

By  nature,  men  endowed  with  highest  gift«, 

The  Tision  and  the  faculty  divine ; 

Yet  wanting  the  accomplishment  of  verse. 

Which,  in  the  docile  season  of  their  youth, 

It  was  denied  chcni  U^)  acquire,  through  lack 

Of  culture,  ami  the  inspiring  aid  of  boolcH. — WOBDSWOBTH. 

Prose  and  Poetry  Distinguished. — We  have 
seen  that  one  of  the  cliaracteristics  of  poetry  is  Figurative 
Language,  and  that  this,  though  not  essential  to  the  essay 
and  the  oration,  is  frequent  in  all  prose  writing. 

We  come  now  to  Rhythm,  another  feature  of  poetry, 
and  the  one  most  readily  recognized.  This,  though  com- 
monly regarded  as  essential  to  poetry,  is  not  merely  unes- 
sential, but  positively  weakening  to  prose.  Hence  those 
who  have  no  ambition  to  be  poets  are  still  interested  in 
Rhythm,  which  they  must  understand  in  order  to  be  sure 
of  avoiding  it  in  prose. 

Rhythm  is  the  recurrence  of  accent  at  regular  meas- 
ured intervals. 

SonndB  tliat  are  prodticod  1)y  regnlar  periodical  vibrations  are 
known  as  tonen.  Such  are  tlie  HonndH  of  the  voice  in  sing^g. 
To  tills  steady,  prolonged,  anticiixated  sound  the  ear  becomes  ac- 


<"'^S  RHYTHM.  [Part  VL 

customed  in  singing,  where  tone  is  expected ;  but  in  disoourse  a 
break  into  musical  tones  would  be  startling,  and,  unless  to  attain 
some  peculiar  effect,  intolerable.  It  requires  of  the  ear  a  read- 
justment, which  is  disagreeable  because  it  is  unreasonable. 

So  of  rhvthm.  In  poetry  the  ear  adjusts  itself  to  the  regular 
recurrence  of  emphasis,  and  is  shocked  if  the  recurrence  is  in- 
terrupted. But  in  prose  no  such  recurrence  of  emphasis  is  ex- 
pected. When  the  ear  first  peroeiTea  it,  it  is  incredulous;  the 
attention  is  distracted  from  the  meaning  in  the  effort  to  listen 
closely  and  see  if  indeed  what  purports  to  be  prose  has  been 
measured  out  into  metrical  feet ;  and  if  this  proves  to  be  true,  the 
ear  is  disgusted  at  the  lack  of  fitness. 

In  going  down  stairs,  the  foot  learns  the  intervals,  and  descends 
easily  in  absolute  darkness,  accepting  regular  intervals  as  charac- 
teristic of  stairs ;  but  in  free  walking  one  rebels  against  having  his 
8te))s  measured  for  him.  Nothing  more  fatigues  one  than  to  stride 
from  tie  to  tie  on  a  railroad  track. 

One  form  of  favorite  mechanism  in  construction  is  that  in 
which  a  regular  succession  occurs,  like  the  swing  of  a  ])endnlmn. 
In  other  instances  in  which  one  feels  the  sense  of  monotony,  but 
cannot  at  once  detect  the  cause,  it  is  found,  on  a  closer  scrutiny, 
that  the  sentences  have  more  than  two  variations,  but  they  occur 
in  one  invariable  order,  with  the  sameness  of  a  treadmill.  Dr. 
Johnson's  style  sometimes  falls  into  this  monotone  of  mechanism. 
Hazlitt  criticises  it,  saying  that  to  read  or  to  hear  such  passages 
from  Johnson's  writings  is  as  bad  as  being  at  sea  in  a  calm,  in 
which  one  feels  the  everlasting  monotony  of  the  ground-swell. 
Charles  Dickens  sometimes  falls  under  the  tyi-anny  of  his  ear  in 
composing  ;  and  then  liis  style  iissumes  an  arbitrarv  succession  of 
a  few  constructions,  in  which  thought  is  subordinated  to  euphony 
df  expression.  A  roll  and  a  swell  and  a  return,  in  the  boom  of 
the  style,  if  I  may  sj^eak  so  incongruously,  destroy  the  sense  of 
everything  but  the  sound.  One  is  tempted  to  chant  the  passage. 
— Phelps. 

Robert  G.  Ingersoll,  in  a  recent  interview,  talked  in  this  way  of 
George  Eliot.  The  statement  apjieai-s  as  prose,  but  the  merest 
typographical  arrangement  makes  it  i)assable  blank  verse,  as  wit- 


Chap.  XXXIII.  |  RHYTHM  IN  PROSE.  629 

8hc  carried  in  her  tender  henrt 
The  burdens  of  our  race.    She  looked 
Throagh  pity's  teara  upon  the  faults 
And  frailties  of  mankind.    She  knew 
The  springs  and  seeds  of  thought  and  deed. 
And  saw  with  olondlem  eyefi  through  all 
The  winding  wayii  of  grcctl,  ambition. 
And  deceit — where  folly  vainly  plucks. 
With  thom-pieroed  handH  the  fading  flowers 
Of  selfish  joy— the  highway  of  eternal  light. 
Whaterer  her  relations  may  have  been. 
No  matter  what  I  think  or  others  say. 
Or  how  much  all  regret 
The  one  mistake  in  all  her  loving  life, 
I  feel  and  know  that  in  the  fcarlem  court 
Where  her  own  conscience  sat  as  truest  judge. 
She  stood  acquitted,  pure  as  light. 
And  stainless  as  a  star. 

At  this  rate  the  colonel  will  prove  a  formidable  rival  to  the 
spring  poets  and  to  the  sweet  singer  of  Michigan. — Albany  Argus. 

Of  the  same  speaker  the  New  York  Sun  makes  another 
criticism,  based  on  the  sound  rule  that  prose  is  never  to 
seem  attired  in  the  garb  of  poetry. 

As  an  orator  Colonel  Ingersoll,  of  Peoria,  drops  too  much 
into  the  sing-song,  and  as  a  rhetorician  he  indulges  too  frequently 
a  weakness  for  alliterative  speech.  Here  are  a  few  i*andom 
phrases  from  his  address  in  the  Academy  of  Music  night  before 
last: 

"TheohUlofohaiu." 

"Shared  the  i^oom  and  glory  of  the  Mren  Mored  yean.** 
*'  The  war  was  waged  and  won.^ 
"  Forged  new  fetter*  for  their  feUow-men.** 
"  Our  fathers  fought  for  freedom.** 
"  The  stnam  went  singing  to  the  aeas.** 
I  of  men." 


The  habit  seems  to  be  growing  on  the  Oolonel,  and  he  will  no 
doubt  be  obliged  to  us  for  ]>ointing  out  the  fact.  An  excessive 
dei>cndence  wyKiw  alliteratiou's  artful  aid  may  mar  the  effect  of 
extremely  eloquent  elocution. 


^••'^^  RHYTHM.  fPARTVT. 

Critics  differ  as  to  whether  poetry  must  be  rhyth- 
mical. 
On  the  one  hand  : 

After  some  preliminaiy  remarks,  the  lectnre  reallj  oommenoes 
with  the  answer  to  the  question.  What  is  poetry  ?  To  this  Mr. 
Dobell  replies  that  "Poetry  is  whatever  may  congruonsly  form 
part  of  a  poem ;  perfect  poetry  is  whatever  may  congmoiuily  form 
part  of  a  perfect  poem,**  an  answer,  as  it  appears  to  us,  not  tmhke 
the  well-known  one  to  the  qneetion  of.  What  was  an  archdeacon  ? 
"A man  who  discharges  aichdiaoonal  functions.^  He  then  pro- 
ceeds to  consider  the  nature  of  a  perfect  poem,  and  in  order  to  do 
this  he  assumes  that  "it  is  the  perfect  expression  of  a  perfect 
mind.**  There  seems  here  to  be  a  tacit  assumption  tliat  a  per- 
fect mind  could  only  find  its  expression  in  poetry ;  but  there  is  ap- 
parently no  reason  why  such  a  mind  should  not  find  its  manifesta- 
tion in  prose  equally  well ;  for  in  the  definition  given  by  Mr. 
Dobell  of  a  perfect  poem — i.e.,  the  expression  of  the  attributes  to 
know,  to  love,  to  worship,  and  to  order — there  is  nothing  which 
would  be  inconsistent  vnth  prose.  The  consequence  of  this  theory 
would  be  that  metre  is  unessential  to  poetry,  a  consequence  which 
is  definitely  accepted  by  Walt  Whitman  and  the  more  extreme 
members  of  the  spasmodic  school  generally,  but  which  has  as  yet 
found  but  little  credence  with  the  pubhc  in  general. — Spectator^ 
July  1,  1876. 

On  the  other : 

First  and  foremost,  the  representation  must  be  a  representation 
in  language,  and  not  only  in  language  but  in  verse  or  rhythm. — 
Alfred  Austin. 

The  pleasure  afforded  by  poetic  rhythm  is  that  of  expecting 
the  fulfilment  of  a  recognized  law  of  cadence,  while  the  pleasure 
afforded  by  prose  rhythm  is  that  its  cadences  shall  come  upon 
us  by  surprise. — Applefon's  Journal. 

Thirdly,  I  deduce  the  position  from  all  the  causes  elsewhere  as- 
signed, which  render  metre  the  proper  form  of  poetry,  and  poetry 
imperfect  and  defective  without  metre.     .     .     . 

It  is  indeed  worthy  of  remark  that  all  our  great  poets  have  been 


Chap.  XXXIII.  l  RHYTHM  IN  POETRY.  631 

good  prose  writers,  as  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Milton ;  and  this  proba- 
bly more  from  their  just  sense  of  metre.  For  a  true  poet  will 
never  confound  verse  and  prose ;  whereas  it  is  almost  character- 
istic of  indifferent  prose  writers  that  they  should  be  constantly 
slipping  into  scraps  of  metre.     .     .     . 

Poetry  is  not  the  proper  antithesis  to  prose  but  to  science. 
Poetry  is  opposed  to  science,  and  prose  to  metre. — Ck>iiERiDOE. 

Again,  Coleridge  says : 

The  definition  of  good  Prose  is — proper  words  in  their  proper 
places;  of  good  Verse — the  most  proper  words  in  their  proper 
places.  Tlie  propriety  in  either  case  is  relative.  The  wonls  in 
prose  ought  to  express  the  intended  meaning  and  no  more ;  if 
they  attract  attention  to  themselves  it  is  in  general  a  fault.  .  .  . 
But  in  verse  you  must  do  more  ;  there  the  words,  the  media,  must 
be  beautiful,  and  ought  to  attract  your  notice — yet  not  so  much 
and  so  i)eri>etually  as  to  destroy  the  unity  which  ought  to  result 
from  the  whole  poem  (vi.  468). 

Henry  Morley  defines  prose  as  follows  : 

The  word  prose  means  straightforward.  It  is  derived  from  the 
Latin  prorsus,  and  so  was  the  name  of  a  Boman  goddess,  Prorsa, 
also  called  Prosa,  who  presided  over  births  with  the  head  foremost. 
Prose  signifies,  therefore,  the  direct  manner  of  common  speech, 
^tdthout  twists  or  uniLsual  ways  of  presentation. 

lie  remarks  thus  upon  Coleridge's  definition  : 

The  definition  may  be  handy,  but  it  is  not  true.  No  writer  of 
prose  would  wish  to  use  second-best  words.  Setting  aside  the 
difftironce  that  lies  deep  in  the  nature  of  thought,  there  remains 
only  the  mechanical  distinction  that  verso  is  a  contrivance  for  ob- 
taining by  fixed  places  of  frequently  recurring  i^ause  and  elevation 
of  the  voice,  by  rhyme  and  other  devices,  a  large  number  of  places 
of  fixeil  emphasis,  that  cause  stress  to  l>e  laid  on  every  important 
word,  while  they  not  thought  to  music.  Whatever  will  bear  this 
coiitinuoufl  enforcement  is  fit  matter  for  verse ;  but  tlie  custom- 
ary, though  put  into  words  that  fit  it  perfectly,  are  therefore  the 
)>eHt,  is  less  inteuHo,  and  therefore  is  best  expressed  in  the  straight- 
forward method  of  our  custosiary  speeoh. 


632  RHYTHM.  (Part  VI 

Good  poeiiy  mighi  be  daAaed  **  elegant  and  decorated  Um- 
gnage  in  metre,  expreesiiig  snoh  and  imch  t  iunighu/*  and  good  prose 
oompofution  as  **  snoh  and  sneh  thongliUi  expressed  in  good  lan- 
guage ;  **  that  which  is  primary  in  each  being  sojttordinate  in  the 
other. —Whatklt. 

Again,  (Mcsldg*  wtDiMthesraf  tli0<k)OlilMtlutlwC«««Btliel«igna9Bof  pronand 
that  of  Milrloil  uuiminalHBii  ttav*  to  ao  tMMUal  dUhiauoe.  Ftor  trfaea  poatry  taspHea 
mora  paarion  aad  fraalar  aidtemaai  of  aU  tiM  ftaolttoa  than  |m>«.  Chia  axottanient  aanat 
makatta>lffaitlnUiahmgnaiatha>«iprinaa>itt.  Of  thto  axaMad  natmal  f adhim  BMtra 
la  tho  natttiBl  Tahida  mtra.  which  haa  lu  orlfia  in  emMtkin,  tampered  and  maaterad  by 
wUl;  or,  aa Oolaridga  aapramBi  It,  moira,  whieh  to  Om  ranlt  of  the  balanee  which  the 
mind  itrilcea  bjr  ToHnitanr  aflort  to  ciMck  the  woridait  of  pa»don.  Uemw  m  the  oaa  of 
awtrioal  langnage  impUea  a  union  of  apontaneooa  Impnlaa  and  volantaiy  pnrpoaa,  hoth  of 
thaaa  elamaota  odght  to  radact  thamaelTaa  fai  the  poet%  diction.    .    .    . 

Bnt  howerar  and  whanevar  thaooe  iMpirinir  impolaa  Hiida  words  (o  embody  It,  one 
thimc  to  oertwta,  -thl  whniMmaat  mmk  ha  in  toninaga  whleh  haa  In  tt  rhythm  and 


Proae,  Coleridge  naad  to  aay,  to  the  opporfta  not  of  poetry,  hot  of  Term  or  meCr&— a 
doctrine  whicli,  however  oontrary  to  oonmion  pariance,  oommenda  it«elf  at  once  tu  all  who 
think  aboot  it.  If,  aa  I  have  beenaocnAomedinMMmleotnieataiiay,  **poetrxiiitheex- 
pfemton.  in  beantifnl  Item  and  melodionB  toi^m^Pb  of  Om  bam  thooghU  and  the  noblem 
emotlona  whldi  the  apeotada  of  life  awakena  In  the  flneat  aoola,"  it  In  dear  that  this  may 
be  efliwted  by  proae  aa  trnly  aa  by  reraa,  if  only  the  tonguage  be  rtiythaiical  and  beaati- 
foL  ...  In  that  e««ay  he  (Mr.  Shadworth  Hodgaon)  mys :  "  Metre  is  not  nroeiwary 
to  poetry,  white  poetry  to  neoaamiy  to  metre."  Again,  **  Proae,  when  ttriam  into  poetry, 
becomm  as  neariy  mnalcal  aa  language  without  metre  can  be :  it  becomes  rhythmicaL"— 
Shairp. 

Perhaps  no  stronger  support  could  be  given  the  theory 
that  rhythm  is  essential  to  poetry  than  the  fact  that  Mr. 
Ruskin,  in  a  book  recently  published  on  "  Elements  of 
English  Prosody,"  now  holds  that  the  definition  of  jx)etry 
in  the  opening  of  the  third  volume  of  "Modern  Painters" 
is  defective,  and  adds  to  it  the  words  in  italics : 

Poetry  is  the  presentment,  in  musical  form  ^  to  the  imagination 
of  noble  grounds  for  the  noble  emotions. 

I^igh  Hunt  says : 

Fitness  and  unfitness  for  song  or  metrical  excitement  just  make 
all  the  difference  between  a  poetical  and  a  prosaic  subject ;  and 
the  reason  why  verse  is  neces.sary  to  the  form  of  iK)etrv^  is,  that  the 
perfection  of  poetical  spirit  demands  it ;  that  the  circle  of  enthu- 


Chap.  XXXIII.]  VERSIFICATION.  633 

siasm,  beanty,  and  power  is  incomplete  without  it.  I  do  not  mean 
to  say  that  a  i)oet  can  never  show  himself  a  poet  in  i)ro8e ;  but 
tliat,  being  one,  his  desire  and  necessity  will  be  to  write  in  verse ; 
and  that  if  he  were  not  able  to  do  so,  he  would  not  and  could  not 
deserve  his  title. 

VERSIFICATION. 

English  Verse  is  characterized  by  Rhythm,  or  the 
recurrence  of  stress,  beat,  or  accent,  at  i-egnlar  intervals. 

In  tliis  resi^ect,  English  metre  diflfers  from  the  classical  metres, 
which  are  constructed  principally  according  to  the  qutmtiti/  of  syl- 
lables ;  though  modified  by  the  rhythm  in  many  instances.  Tlius, 
in  EInglish  verse,  we  speak  of  syllables  as  accented  or  unaccented, 
while  Latin  verse  is  measured  by  syllables  regarded  as  iong  or 
short. 

RHYME  is  given  to  a  large  proportion  of  English 
verse,  bnt  is  by  no  means  essential.  Indeed  tlie  noblest 
verse  is  free  from  its  hampering  restrictions. 

Perfect  rhymes  must  comply  with  the  following  rules : 
{a)  The  vowel  sounds  and  final  consonants  of  the  rhym- 
ing syllables  must  be  t/ie  same  ;  and  the  consonant  sounds 
preceding  them  must  be  different. 

Thus,  r-ing  rhymes  with  s-ing^  k-ingy  si-ing  ;  but  not  with  s-cmg^ 
or  k-indy  or  err-ing. 

(h)  The  rhyming  syUables  must  both  have  the  strong 
accent. 

Thus,  ring  rhymes  with  sing,  but  not  with  pledtting. 
Wlicn  the  second  lino  ends  in  a  trisyllablo,  accented  on  the  ante- 
l)enultimate,  no  accent  is  reiiuired  on  the  ultimate. 

(c)  Tlie  peimltimate  syllables  may  rhyme,  provided  the 
ultimates  are  identical  and  weak  in  accent. 

Thus,  hedr-ing  rhymes  with  teiir-ing. 

((/)  Tiic»  ;niti']>eini]tijiiate  syllables  may  rhyme,  provided 


634  RHYTHM.  [Part  VL 

the  two  last  sjllables  arc  identical  in  the  two  lines,  and 
both  are  weak  in  accent. 

Thus,  imp()r-tanate  rhymes  w\iii/«/r  tiinat<». 
The  Rhythm  sometimes  requires  words  to  Ik-  slightly  changed 
in  pronunciation,  so  as  to  suit  a  particular  measure.    This  in  done — 
(1)  By  contraction,  so  as  to  reduce  the  number  of  syllables. 

Thtu,  *Mc,  for  it  it :  a^rnr^  for  orar ;  MTm,  for  Ukan ;  I'm,  for  I  haTa;  cummimtftt,  for 
pMfY,  for  povrar;  vKr'ta*!,  far  apirftaal;  m<^A4-Mai;  for 


(2)  By  expantum,  to  increase  the  number  of  syllables. 


The  number  of  words  in  the  English  language  which  form  per- 
fect rhymes  is  so  limited  that  some  slight  deN-iations  from  the 
above  rules  are  sanctioned  by  the  practice  of  the  best  poets,  and 
are  called  aUotPoble  rhymes.  In  allowable  rhymes  the  final  con- 
sonant sounds  remain  the  same,  and  the  vowel  sound  is  modifiecL 

Thiw,  ami,  npon ;  adona,  pcman;  war,  oar;  lova,  nova ;  kiat,  ooaat. 

Exercise. — Give  perfect  rhymes  for  each  of  the  follow- 
ing words : 

Grace,  match,  detract,  gladden,  invade,  safe,  epitaph,  chain, 
taking,  flame,  trance,  chant,  lapse,  l)eware,  grave. 

Speech,  creak,  conceal,  extreme,  gleaning,  heard,  cease,  death, 
shred,  steed,  sweep,  offence,  islander,  waiiuess,  l)edew. 

Bribe,  slid,  Ides,  midst,  defy,  brief,  drift,  thrilling,  guileless, 
shrine,  spring,  sire,  desist,  united,  driven,  guise,  lisp. 

Throb,  shewed,  scoffer,  voice,  anoint,  spoke,  golden,  stolen, 
prone,  song,  brood,  roofless,  gloomy,  grope,  forswore. 

Rude,  judge,  skull,  overruling,  sun,  importune,  blunt,  spur, 
numberless,  birds,  nurse,  dangerous,  persecute,  mistrust. 

Point  out  which  of  the  following  rhymes  are  allowable, 
and  which  are  to  be  condemned.  Show  what  rules  the 
latter  violate. 

So  some  rats  of  amphibious  nature. 

Axe  either  for  the  land  or  water. — BuTLXB, 


(HAP.  XXXIII  ]  MEASURES.  635 

Wine  or  doliciouH  fruits  unto  the  taste, 

A  music  in  the  van  will  ever  last— Johisoh. 

Tet  to  his  guest  though  no  way  sparing, 
He  ate  himself  the  rind  and  iiaring.— PoPK. 

And  pulpit,  drum  ecclesiastic. 

Was  beat  with  fist  instead  of  a  stick.— Botubb. 

That  jelly's  rich,  this  wine  is  healing. 

Pray  dip  your  whiskerii  and  your  tail  in. — POFB. 

Whoee  yielded  pride  and  proud  submission. 

Her  heart  did  melt  in  great  compassion.— Spkhbxb. 

Pleased  to  the  last  he  crops  the  flowery  food, 

And  licks  the  hand  just  raised  to  shed  his  blood.— Pope. 

Let  not  ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 

Nor  grandeur  hear  with  a  disdainfiU  smile. — Qbat. 

Much  converse  do  I  find  in  thee, 
Historian  of  my  infancy.— Wordsworth. 

Oh  I  not  in  cruelty,  not  in  wrath, 

'Twas  an  angel  visited  the  green  earth.— LoNOrXLLOW. 

••  You  can't,"  said  Tom  to  lisping  Bill, 

"  Find  any  rhyme  for  month."— 
♦•  There  you  mlthtake,"  did  Bill  reply, 

"  I'll  And  a  rhyme  at  wonth." 

I  wish  I  were  a  cassowary 

Upon  the  frfains  of  Timbuctoo  ; 
Fd  like  to  eat  a  missionary. 

Flesh  and  bones  and  hymn-book  too. 

Measures  (oi  Feet)  are  the  equivalent  parts,  each 
consisting  of  some  uniform  combination  of  accented  and 
unaccented  sylhibles.  into  wliicli  tlio  line  (or  verse)  is  di- 
vided. 

Three  kinds  oi  teet  give  a  fair  clue  to  Knglisli  versi- 
fication, and  are  all  that  we  need  here  to  consider.  These 
are : 

la)  Iambic,  in  which  the  even  syllables  are  accented  ; 
as, 

Ami  fur  I  thU  draught  |  all  kinds  |  of  fruit, 
Orape  wyr  |  up.  squares  |  of  Old  |  -ored  ice. 
With  ohar  |  -Hm  asnred  |  in  drift*  |  at  mom:—Stck  King  in  Bokhmtm, 


636  RHYTHM.  (Fart  VL 

(b)  TrochaiCy  in  which  the  inld  syllables  are  ac- 
cented; as, 

In  her  |  Urrtij  |  tflkoa  |  mtirmar.— IaQt  OtrakUms, 

(c)  AnapaestiCy  in  which  two  UDaccented  syllables 
are  followed  by  an  accented  one  ;  as, 

I  hftTa  roMd  I  in  an  old  I  aad  a  mar  ]  •Tdlotu  tale. 

When  the  accented  syllable  comes  first,  the  feet  are 
called  Dactyls ;  as, 

Jnpttv,  I  fr—tanrt  am  |  •■tpofemk. 

The  Pause  (or  Caesura)  is  that  point  in  the  verse  (or 
line)  where  the  sense  and  rhythm  both  admit  of  a  mo- 
mentary interruption  of  the  latter.  The  pause  cannot  be 
made  in  the  middle  of  a  word  ;  but,  with  this  exception, 
it  may  fall  at  any  part  of  the  verse.  Besides  the  pause  in 
the  course  of  the  line,  there  is  generally  one  also  at  the 
end  of  the  line,  as  there  the  sense  is  usually  interrupted. 
Not  always,  however ;  e,g.: 

Nor  ooatent  with  sach 
Audaokms  iielf(htKNirhood.— MiLiOV. 
What  cannot  foa  and  I  pcrfoTm  |  npoa 
Tha  mgnaidad  Dunoan  ?  t  Wliat  not  pot  upon 
Hiai 


Variety  is  given  to  verse  as  follows : 

(a)  Other  feet  than  those  that  characterize  the  stanza 
are  introduced ;  as, 

How  sweetly  did  they  float  npon  the  wings 
Of  silence  through  the  empty- vaulted  night. 
At  erery  fall  smoothing  the  raren  down 
Of  darkness  till  it  smiled.— M11.T01. 

Here  the  third  foot  of  the  third  verse  is  a  trochaic  instead  of 
an  iambic. 

(b)  Syllables  are  appended  to  the  verse  after  the 
regular  measure  is  completed ;  as. 

Wherefore  |  rejoice  ?  |  That  Cses  |  -ar  comes  |  in  tri  |  -umph  ?—Sh  >¥«>«■«■ 


Chap.  XXXIII.J  VARIETY  IN  VERSE.  637 

(c)  The  first  foot  is  contracted ;  as, 

Or  U8h  I  -ercd  with  |  a  show  |  -t-r  still. 

When  I  the  gust  |  hath  bluwn  |  hid  till.— MiLTON. 

The  last  line  might  be  read  as  trochaic  : 

When  the  |  K"«t  hath  |  blown  his  |  All. 

From  isolated  lines,  sometimes  even  from  stanzas,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  determine  whether  the  measure  of  the  poem  is  iambic  or 
trochaic. 

(d)  The  pause  is  always  varied  in  good  verse;  as, 

The  quality  of  Uicrcy  |  is  not  strained,  | 

It  droppeih,  J  an  the  gentle  rain  from  heav'n"^ 

Upon  the  place  beneath.  |  It  is  twice  bless'd  ;  | 

It  bleaaeth  him  that  givc«<,  |  and  him  that  takes.  | 

THa  mightiest  in  the  mightiest ;  i  it  bc«-ome*i^ 

The  throned  monarch  better  tiiuu  his  crown.  |  — Shakbpkxb. 

In  this  passage,  the  pauses  occur  in  the  different  lines  respec- 
tively after  the  following  syllables  :  Fii-st  lino,  seventh  and  tenth  ; 
second  line,  tliird  ;  third  line,  sixth  and  tenth  ;  fouiih  line,  sev- 
enth and  tenth  ;  fifth  line,  seventh ;  sixth  line,  tenth. 

(e)  By  combining  verses  of  different  lengtlis,  and 
varying  the  order  of  rhymes ;  as, 

No  war,  or  battle's  sound. 
Was  heard  the  world  around  : 

The  idle8t)ear  and  shield  were  high  aphnng, 
The  hookc«I  chariot  stoo«l, 
UnaUinM  with  hoHtile  bloixt ; 

The  tmmpet  tpake  not  to  the  anned  throng ; 

And  ldl«*  Mi  Itlll  with  awful  eye. 
Am  If  tlwj  ■orely  knew  thoir  sovran  I»nl  was  by.— 

MiLTOK.  Otuomtkt  Jfurirt^. 

(f)  Broken  verses  are  often  introduced  in  blank 
verse,  especially  in  dramatic  dialogue,  where  frecjuently 
one  part  of  a  verse  is  spoken  by  one  person,  and  tlie  rest 
by  another;  as, 

Shylodt.  CiuMd  be  xaj  tribe, 

If  I  forgive  him  I 

■AoMoiKo.  Shjrlock,  do  job  hew  t— Shaupku. 


638  RHYTHM.  [Part  VI. 

Shakspere  often  VBes  thoae  broken  venes  in  the  quick  inter- 
change of  passionate  dialogne,  and  to  indicate*  abni]>t  changes  of 
feeling. 

Irregular  Measure  is  a  tenn  applied  t>  \(  i>(>  which 
is  nut  composed  ut  complete  feet.  Such  verse  usually 
lacks  one  or  more  syllables  at  the  close,  owing  to  the  awk- 
wardness of  double  rhymes,  and  the  tendency  to  thi-ow  oflF 
a  final  weak  syllable.  Tlie  general  character  of  irregular 
measure  is  cheerful  and  lively. 

Irregular  verses  are  of  various  lengths,  from  om  foot  to  eighi  ; 
but  the  most  common  are  Tetrameters  (complete  and  defective),  as, 


TeU  me  BOi  la 

*•  Ufa  U  bat  aa  empty  ( 
FtrtlMaoalto( 

And  tlilag*  •»  not  what  thsf  wtmk.—lMMrmixm. 

Or  with  a  different  arrangement  of  rhymes — 


In  hi*  duunbor,  vtak  mad  dying, 
Wm  Ibe  Norman  baron  lying ; 
Load,  witboat,  th«  tampaat  Urandai*d, 

And  Um  caatia  tnxtet  shook. 
In  this  flgbt  wan  death  Um  gaiaar, 
*8|iite  of  vaaml  and  retalaer. 
And  the  buwU  bis  sires  had  ptncdair*d 

Written  in  the  Doomsday  Book.— In. 

Or  defective  Tetrameters  throughout — 

Othor  Romans  ahall  arise, 

Ueedleas  of  a  soldier's  name ; 
Soonda,  not  arms,  shall  win  the  prize, 
Harmony  the  path  to  fame. — Cowpkb. 

This  measure  predominates  in  Milton's  "L' Allegro."  Tenny 
son  also  employs  it,  as  in  "  The  Lady  of  Shalott,"  which  is  irregu- 
lar in  the  general  character  of  its  verse.  The  refrain  in  every 
stanza  is  a  regular  Trimeter,  and  there  is  only  one  stanza  in  the 
whole  poem  in  which  the  other  verses  are  irregular  throughout : 

Willows  whiten.  a«pens  quiver. 
Little  breezes  dusk  and  shiver 
Thro'  the  wave  that  runs  for  ever 
By  the  island  in  the  river 

VlowiDg  down  to  Camelot. 


Chap.  XXXIIL]  HEROIC  MEASURE,  639 

Poor  gray  walla  and  four  graj  towan 
Overlook  a  nitooo  of  (luwera, 
And  the  fiilent  IhIc  embowen 
The  Lady  of  Shalott. 

Bat  in  the  latter  part  of  the  next  stanza,  he  breaks  into  the 
regular  measure : 

Bat  wh6  hath  neen  her  wave  her  hand  f 
Or  at  the  caaement  seen  her  stand  ? 
Or  is  she  known  in  all  the  land. 
The  Lady  of  Shalott? 

Irregular  verse  is  generally  rhymed  :  but  Longfellow  has  writ- 
ten a  long  Indian  epic  poem,  "  Hiawatha,"  in  unrhjTned  iiregular 
Tetrameters;  e.g.: 

There  the  little  Hiawatha 
Learned  of  every  bird  its  language, 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  aecreta, 
How  they  built  their  ne8ti«  in  summer, 
Where  they  hid  ihcmaelves  in  winter, 
Talked  with  them  where'er  he  met  them. 
Called  them  "  Hiawatha's  chickens/' 
Of  all  beasta  he  leameti  the  language. 
Learned  their  names  and  all  their  aecreta, 
How  the  beavers  bnilt  their  lodges, 
Where  the  squirrels  hid  their  aooma. 
How  the  reindeer  ran  so  swiftly, 
Why  the  rabbit  wan  so  timid. 
Talked  with  them  where'er  he  met  them, 
CaUed  them  "  Hiawatha's  Brothers." 

Heroic  Measure  (Pentameter)  is  made  up  of  live 
iambic  feet.  In  its  rhymed  form  it  is  the  measure  of 
Chaucer  and  Spenser,  of  Dryden  and  Pope,  of  Cowper, 
Campbell,  and  Byi-on  ;  as. 

True  case  in  writing  oomes  from  art,  not  ohaaea 

As  ttaost  moTe  aawiest  who  have  laarn'd  to  danoa. 

Tis  not  MioaghDO  banbtMsa  gives  oOsnoa ; 

TIm  aoond  nnst  •eem  aa  echo  to  tha  senaa. 

Soft  la  tha  atndn  whan  Zapbyr  gantly  biowa, 

And  tha  amooth  atralo  in  amoother  nambars  Hoars : 

Bnt  whan  load  angaa  laah  tha  soanding  sbora, 

Tha  hoaraa,  roogh  volca  abould  lika  tha  torrant  roar.— PoPi. 

In  its  unrhjmed  form  it  is  the  stately  and  solemn  blank 


640  RHYTHM.  [Part  VI. 

verse  of  Shakspere  and  Milton,  as  of  Wordswortli  and 
Tennyson;  as, 

Now  cttiM  itOl  ■reaiiig  on,  and  TirtHght  gny 

Had  la  her  niMr  liv«7  all  ihln0i  olad ; 

BUfliioe  aooompaaled ;  for  beast  and  bifd, 

Thaj  to  their  grM*7  oondi,  tbeae  to  their  naita, 

Wore  Klnnk,  aU  bat  the  wakafol  uiffhtiasale ; 

She  all  night  long  her  amorooa  deaoant  naf.— Milton. 

The  Elegiac  Stanza  ia  made  up  of  four  iambic 
pentameters  rhyining  alternately  ;  as, 

PoU  many  a  gam  of  porael  nj  aanae. 
The  dark  nnfathocn^d  oavea  of  ocean  bear ; 

Foil  many  a  flow*r  la  bom  to  bhirfi  nnMen. 
And  waste  ita  tweetneai  on  the  desert  air.— Obat. 

The  Spenserian  Stanza  is  made  np  of  eight  iam- 
bic pentameters,  followed  by  an  iambic  hexameter  (or 
Alexandrine)  first  used  by  Spenser,  and  a  favorite  form 
with  Thomson  and  Byron.  The  nine  lines  contain  only 
three  rhymes  disposed  thus,  b,  c,  b,  c  c,  d,  c,  d,  d  ;  e,ff,: 

ItfortanHootof  thathldBHt  wood 

A  ramping  Hon  rashM  aoddealy. 
Hunting  full  greedy  after  ealvage  blood ; 

Boon  a*  the  royal  virgin  he  did  wpj^ 

With  gaping  nMmth  at  her  ran  greedfly. 
To  have  at  onoe  devooi'd  her  tender  oor'ee ; 

Bat  to  the  prey  whenae  he  drew  more  nigh. 
His  bloody  rage  aaaaagM  with  remonie, 
And  with  the  sight  amazed,  forgot  his  furioas  force. — Spknbxb. 

The  Sonnet  contains  fourteen  iambic  pentameters. 
Great  license  is  allowed  in  the  order  of  the  rhymes.   Thus : 

Sun-ey  uses  only  two  rhymes ;  making  the  sonnet  seven  coup- 
lets. 

Spenser  uses  five  rhymes ;  the  first  nine  lines  being  a  Spenser- 
ian stanza,  and  the  last  five  corresponding  with  the  last  five  of  the 
same  stanza. 

Shakspere.  uses  seven  rhymes,  making  his  sonnet  equal  to  three 
elegiac  stanzas  and  a  couplet ;  as, 

be  be  )  de  de  I  f  g  f  g  I  hh 


CiiAP.  XXXIII.]  ROMANTIC  MEASURR  641 

Wordsworth  uses  three  rhymes,  of  which  one  runs  throughout 
the  whole  sonnet  thus  : 

Wenk  is  the  will  of  man,  his  jad|3rroent  blind, 

Remeiitbmnoo  pereeciites,  and  hope  betnys ; 
Heavy  is  woe,  and  joy,  for  humankind 

A  mournful  thing,  ho  transient  is  the  blaae  1 

Thns  might  he  paint  our  lot  of  mortal  daya, 
Who  wantA  the  glorious  faculty  assigned 
To  elevate  the  more  than  reasoning  mind. 

And  color  life*8  dark  clond  with  orient  rays. 

Imagination  is  that  sacred  power. 
Imagination  lofty  and  refined ; 

'Tis  her's  to  pluck  the  amantnthine  flower 
Of  faith,  and  round  the  sufferer's  temple  bind 

Wreaths  that  endure  affliction's  heaviest  shower. 
And  do  not  shrink  from  sorrow's  keenest  wind. — WoaiMSWORTH. 

Romantic  Measure  is  made  up  of  iambic  tetrame- 
ters, rhymed,  and  either  in  couplets,  or  varied  by  trime- 
ters; as, 

He  was  a  man  of  middle  age ; 
In  as{)cct  manly,  grave  and  sage, 

As  on  king's  errand  come ; 
But  in  the  glances  of  his  eye, 
A  penetrating,  keen,  and  sly 

Bzpresrion  found  its  home.— Scorr. 

The  Tennyson  Ian  Stanza  is  made  up  of  four  iam- 
bic tetrHineters,  with  twu  rliyming  verses  used  l>etween 
two  others,  best  known  in  the  poem  "  In  Memoriam." 
Thus: 

i  uoici  It  triitii  \Mt)i  him  who  sings 

To  on»'  clear  harp  In  «liv«jrK  tones. 

That  men  may  nse  on  stepping-stones 
Of  their  dead  selves  to  higher  things. 

Iambic  Trimeters  are  seldom  used  by  themselves, 
thuiigh  they  are  found  in  Shakspere's  lyrics.     Thus : 

Blow,  blow,  thoQ  winter  wtnd, 
ThoQ  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratttode; 
Thy  tooth  is  not  so  kaen 
Beoaoss  thoa  art  not  seen, 

Althw^  thy  hn>«th  tm  trnkt.    it  TiomUk$n, 


642  RHYTHM.  [Part  VI. 

Ballads  and  Hymns  are  composed  mainly  of  tetra- 
meters and  trimeters  alternating. 

The  other  forms  in  which  iambic  moMnre  occurs,  are  either  va- 
rieties of  those  already  explained,  or  parts  or  multiples  of  them. 
The  long  verses  of  seven  and  eight  feet  may  generally  be  written 
as  two  verses  of  foor  and  three,  and  of  four  and  four  feet  respec- 
tively. Thus  the  first  line  of  the  *'  Battle  of  Ivry,"  which  is  gen- 
erally printed  as  one  Heptameter,  may  be  printed  as  a  Tetrameter 
and  a  Trimeter : 

Mow  glory  to  th*  Lord  of  HoUa, 
From  whom  all  florim  are !— IfAOAmaT. 

Anapaestic  Measure  is  rarely  found  pure,  even  in 
single  lines. 

For  example,  in  Beattie's  "  Hermit,"  out  of  forty-eight  lines, 
only  four  are  pure  complex  verses ;  all  the  others  have  a  simple 
foot  at  the  commencement ;  e.g.: 

AfctlMOkMS 


of  the  day 

when  the  ham 

-let  in  rtill. 

4als  the  sweats 

of  forget 

•fulno88  prove. 

bat  the  tor 

rait  is  heard 

on  the  hlU, 

bat  the  ni^ht 

•ingale'ssong 

in  the  RTOTC.— Bkattik. 

And  nought 

Sometimes,  however,  a  line  thus  defective  at  the  beginning,  is 
counterbalanced  by  an  excessive  syllable  in  the  preceding  line,  thus : 

Tis  the  last   I  rose  of  stun  I  -mer. 
Left  Uoom  ■  -ing  alone,  j  — Moork. 

in  which  case  the  lines  printed  as  one  verse  would  be  pure ;  as, 

Tis  the  last  |  rose  of  sum  |  -mer,  left  bloom  |  -ing  alone. 

The  commonest  forms  of  this  complex  measure  are  the  Trime- 
ter; as, 

I  am  monarch  of  all  I  fmrvey, 

My  right  there  is  none  to  dispute  : 
From  the  centre  all  round  to  the  sea, 

I  am  lord  of  the  fowl  and  the  brute.— CowPlE. 

and  the  Tetrameter ;  as, 


Chap.  XXXIII.]  EXERCISES.  643 

knd  the  widown  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail 

And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal ; 

And  the  might  of  the  Gentile,  nnnmote  by  the  sword. 

Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  glanffe  of  the  Lord.— Btroh. 

Exercise. — Arrange  each  of  tlie  following  sentences  into 
a  Heroic  couplet : 

Tliis  man  would  soar  to  heaven  by  his  own  strength,  and  would 
not  be  obliged  for  more  to  God. 

How  art  thou  misled,  vain,  wretched  creature,  to  think  thy  wit 
bred  these  God-like  notions. 

She  made  a  little  stand  at  every  turn,  and  thrust  her  lily  hand 
among  the  thorns  to  draw  the  rose,  and  she  shook  the  stalk,  every 
rose  she  drew,  and  brush'd  the  dew  away.     (Four  lines.) 

Whoever  thinks  to  see  a  faultless  piece,  thinks  what  never  shall 
be,  nor  ever  was,  nor  is. 

Sometimes  men  of  wit,  as  men  of  breeding,  must  commit  less 
errors,  to  avoid  the  great, 

Tlie  hungry  judges  soon  sign  the  sentence,  and  that  jurymen 
may  dine,  \sTetches  bang. 

Arrange  eacli  of  the  following  into  Iambic, Tetrameters, 
rhyming : 

He  soon  stood  on  the  steep  hill's  verge,  that  looks  o'er  Brank- 
some's  towers  and  wood  ;  and  martial  murmurs  proolaiinod  from 
I)elow  the  southern  foe  approaching.     (Four  lines.) 

Of  mild  mood  was  the  Earl,  and  gentle  ;  the  vassals  wens  rude, 
and  warlike,  and  fierce ;  haughty  of  word,  and  of  heart  high,  they 
recked  little  of  a  tame  liege  lord.     (Four  lines.) 

A  lion,  worn  with  cares,  tired  with  state  affairs,  and  quite  sick 
of  i>omp,  resolved  to  ytass  his  latter  life  in  peace,  remote  from  strife 
and  noise.     (Four  lines.) 

I  felt  as,  when  all  the  waves  that  o*er  thee  dash,  on  a  plank  at 
K(»a,  whelm  and  upheave  at  the  same  time,  and  towards  a  do«<«^rt 
realm  hurl  thee.     (Four  lines.) 

No  more,  sweet  Te\iot,  blaze  the  glaring  bale-fires  on  th\  siivfi 
tide  ;  steel-clad  warriors  ride  along  thy  wild  and  willowed  shore 
no  longer.     (Four  lines,  rhyming  alternately.) 

His  eyes  of  swarthy  glow  he  rolls  fierce  on  the  hunter's  quiverM 


644  RHYTHM.  (Part  VI. 

hand, — spnrns  the  sand  with  black  hoof  and  horn,  and  tosses  his 
mane  of  snow  high.     (Four  lines,  rhyming  alternately.) 

Where  late  the  green  rains  were  blended  with  the  rock's  wood- 
covered  side,  turrets  rise  in  fantastic  pride,  and  between  flaunt 
feudal  banners.     (Four  lines,  rhyming  alternately.) 

"Whate'er  befall,  I  hold  it  true  ;  when  I  sorrow  most,  I  feel  it , 
— better  than  never  to  have  loved  at  all,  'tis  to  have  loved  and  kMk 
(Tennysonian  Stanza.) 

TOPICAL  ANALYSIS. 
Rhythm. 

Prfw  find  poetry  distinguished,  p.  <I87. 
I  .  of  rhythm,  p.  627. 

Vor  as  to  whether  poetry  must  be  rhythmical,  p.  630. 
VEll>ii  M  A  i  ION,  p:  683. 
English  verse,  p.  688. 
RHYME,  p.  633. 

Jiulesfor  lihyme,  p  633 

a.  Vowel  sounds  and  final  consonants,  p.  688L 

b.  Accent  of  rhyming  syllables,  p.  633. 
e.  Penultimate  syllables,  p  638. 

d.  Antepeuultimate  syllables,  633. 
W&rd$  are  changed  to  meet  the  requinmentB  qf  rhythm  : 

1.  By  contraction,  p.  634. 

2.  By  expansion,  p.  634. 
Measure*,  p.  6:^5. 

a.  Iambic,  p.  635. 

b.  Trochaic,  j).  686. 
r.  Anapaestic,  p.  636. 

Dactyls,  p  636. 
The  pause,  p.  636. 
Variety  ie  given  by : 

a.  Introducing  other  feet,  p.  636. 

b.  Appending  syllables,  p.  636. 

c.  Ck)ntracting  the  first  foot,  p.  637. 

d.  Varying  the  pause,  p.  637. 

e.  Combining  verses  of  different  lengths,  p.  637. 
/.  Introducing  broken  verses,  p.  637. 

Irregular  measure,  p.  638. 
Heroic  measure,  p,  639. 
The  elegiac  stanza,  p.  640. 
The  Spenserian  stanza,  p.  640. 
The  sonnet,  p.  640. 
Romantic  measure,  p.  641. 
The  Tennysonian  stanza,  p.  041. 
Iambic  trimeters,  p.  (>41. 
Ballads  and  hymns,  p.  642. 
Anapaestic  measure,  p.  642. 
Exercises,  p.  643. 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Abbrbyiatiomb  :  cr.  standH  for  criticiHod ;  q.  rtands  for  quoted. 


Abbott,    El     A.,    q.     xlix,    Ixxvi, 
Ixxxviii,  ciii,  cvi,  cxxv,  cxxviii, 
cxxix,  cxxxi,  cxxxvil,  291,  432, 
507  ;  cr.  xlvii,  Ixxxi 
Ab«olutc  phrases,  Ixxxix 
Acceptince.  notes  of,  177 
Accumulation  of  material,  238 
Accuracy  in  details,  86,  148,  212-315 
Acerbity  of  tongue,  39,  43 
Acrostics,  48(),  484 
Acta  Columbiana,  597 
Adams,  John,  863 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  331  ;  cr.  032 
Adaptability  of  similes,  607 
AdapUtion,  US.  506.  510,  538 
Addison.  Joseph,  13,  13:i,  :J25,  354.  358, 
416.  4;W,  4f4);  q.  xxii,  Ixxii,  49, 
114,  '^f*0,  2M6,  Ln>5,  48();  cr.  xxviii, 
xxxi,  Iviii,  Ixv,  Ixxxviii.  ci,  cxix, 
cxxxvi,  232,  382,  3W,  HW,  417, 
619 
••  Adder,  Max."  450 ;  cr.  136 
Adjectives,  xviii,  xxiv,  xxv-xliiif  bdi, 
Ixxiv,  xcv 
oom{>ari8on,  xxviii-xxzi 
definite,  xxxv-xl 
demonstrative,  xxxv-xli 
descriptive,  xxv-xxxv 
fittins,  xxvi,  xxvii,  oxi,  oxii 
for  adverbs,  xxxii 
indefinite,  ^1,  xU 
numeral,  xli-xliii 
.Vdjoetive  setitenoes,  oi-oviii 
Advanta{{«rs  of  discussion,  68 
Adverbs,  Ixii,  Ixxvi-xciii,  XOT 

for  adjectives,  xxxi 
Atlverb  pliruMcH,  xxv,  Ixii 
Adverb  K«iit<'iio-s.  eviii 
.Khu,,.  ::.;i  ;  .,    i:;.  m-J 

.■\(Te.-Utiuii,  Iris.   WW 
AfUr-tliuiicT  Kj>c«vheK,  ,ss.  i;;^ 


Aim  of  argument,  67 

Albany  Aryiu,  (i29 

Alexander,  J    Addison,  q.  387 

Alexander,  P.  P.,  cr.  xxv 

Alford,  Henry,  1(54;  q.  xlix,  Ixvii,  xc, 
xci,  ciii,  cxvii.  3,  41,  374,  426 ; 
cr.  xxxii,  2:i2,  2<H,  484 

Alfred,  King,  and  the  Danes,  407 

AliHon,  Archibald,  cr.  Ixvii,  civ,  426 

AUegtjry,  620 

Allegro,  L\  6138 

Allen,  Dr.,  440 

Alliteration,  479 

Alva  the  Butcher,  452 

Ambiguity,  xxxiii,  ex,  571 

Ambiguous  pronouns,  413 
'  American  humor,  111-113 
I  Amherst  professor,  an,  393 

Anacharsis,  q.  123 
'  Anagrams,  481 

:  Analyses  of  Chapters,  12,  31,  44,  61, 
80,  90,  136,  149.  167,  195,  207, 
241,  254.  275,  300,  3;i0,  341,  353, 
378,  398,  4;«,  447,  464,  490,  501, 
518,  5:{6.  .-HO,  561.  584,  600,  685, 
644 

Analyses  of  descriptions,  344 
,  Analyses  of  sections,  xciv,  cxii,  0x1 

Analysis,  522,  541 

Analysis  of  essay-writing,  288-340 

Anapaestic  feet,  636 

Anapmstio  measore.  643 

Andent  Marintr,  2%«,  480 

And,  cxlx-cxxi 

A;  M  ,  :.70 

A  ::m 

A;„  -  ,     \  ...uim.  q.  lii 
Anue,  Vlttmm,  liTA,  466,  478 
Aimoyaaoes  of  a  wit.  129 
Answering  letters.  I'.r, 
Anii-oltmax.  <  \\\m 
Aniithesia,  cxxwn 


646 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


Any,  481 

AphoriBms,  486 

ApUry,  ma,  888 

Apoatrophe,  008 ;  nae  of,  2604MB 

Apothegms,  486,  487 

Apothegm*,  Bacon* »^  611 

Appleton^s  Journal,  478,  680 

Appositives,  xzv,  xlrii 

Appreciation,  45,  189 

ArbUy,  Madune  d*,  q.  866 

Argument,  519^^525,  S» 

Aristophanes,  865 

Aristotle,  5tML  520,  504,  «Ks  611,  612, 
615,  680,  628;  q.  101.  104,  226, 
286 

Armstrong,  John,  549 

Arnold,  l£itthew,  q.  844 ;  or.  506, 621 

Arnold,  Thomas,  509 

Amolfo,  q.  14iJ 

Arrangement,   xviii,    xx,   xxi,    xxiv^ 

xxxiii,  xxxiv,  xxxt,  xxxviii,  xlri 

of    phrases,     Ixxxix-xoiii,     cxii, 

cxxxi 
of  obsenrations,  a«  follows  :  xviii, 
xxj  xxi,  xxiv,  xxvi  xxviii, 
XXIX,  XXX,  xxxi,  xxxii,  xxxiii, 
xxxiv,  XXXV,  xxxvi.  xxxvii, 
xxxviii,  xli,  xlii,  xliii,  xliv, 
xlvi.  xlvii,  xlviii,  xlix,  1,  Iv, 
Ivi.  Ivii,  Iviii,  lix,  Ix,  Ixiv,  Ixv, 
Ixx,  Ixxii,  Ixxiii,  Ixxv,  Ixxvi, 
Ixxvii,  Ixxviii,  Ixixii,  ixxxiii, 
Ixxxiv,  Ixxxvii,  Ixxxviii,  Ixxxix, 
xc^  xci,  xcvii,  cii,  civ,  cvi,  cvii, 
cviii,  cix,  cxiii.  cxvi,  cxviii, 
cxix,  cxxi,  cxxii,  cxxiii,  cxxiv, 
cxxv,  cxxvi,  cxxvii,  cxxviii, 
cxxix,  cxxx,  cxxxi,  cxxxv, 
cxxxvi,  cxxxvii 

Art  of  Conversation^  q.  38,  47,  48,  75, 
148 

Art  of  English  Poesie,  371 

Articles :  definite,  xxxv 
indefinite,  xl 

Articulation,  151-161,  570 

Artistic,  the,  in  poetry,  595,  599 

Artistic  narration,  84 

As,  Ixxxvii,  cxxvi 

As  to  being  funny,  92-136 

As  You  Like  It,  641 

Assimilation,  323 

At  least,  Ixxxviii 

Atfunian  Oracle^  439 

Atlanta  Constitution,  q.  193 

Atlafitic  Monthly,  88,  502 ;  q.  60,  146, 
345,  487 ;  cr.  418 

Attention,  economy  of,  457 

Attention  to  the  neglected,  51 


Atterbnry,  Franda,  q.  18 
Auburn  Advertiser^  q.  864 
Aognsiine,  q.  62 
AnsonioB,  628 

Austin,  Alfred,  q.  588,  506,  680 
Austin,  Gilbert,  q.  151 
Authorized  definitionn,  :i53,  379 
A..»j......  ..r>^.f,  4iW,  500 

A  S8,  148 

A  .  C. 

Awkwarduesa,  818 

BaCCHAWAI.I'^-  •""    1^*3 

Baoon,  Bir   I  ..  346,  515;  q. 

xcvii.  J74,  282,  284, 

288,  431*,  4(>J,  5'.»4,  505,  607,  611 ; 

or.  390 
Badinaffe.  187 
Bain,  Alexander,  330;  q.  xx,  xxviii, 

xxxv,  xxxvii,   xxxix,  Iviii,  Ixi, 

Ixx,  Ixxiii,  Ixxvii,  Ixxix,  Ixxxiii, 

Ixxxix,   cvii,    cxx,   cxxi,   cxxii, 

413,  461  ;  cr.  94.  98 
Ballada,  599,  642 
Ballantine,  Serjeant,  579 
Bank-checks,  186 
Banter.  39.  127 
Bantering  compliments,  54 
Barbarisms.  &53 
Barham,  R.  H.,  cr.  Iviii 
Barrow,  Isaac,  q.  107,  136,  487 
Bathos,  cxxxv 
BaiUe  of  Tvry,  642 
Bautain,  M.,  q.  319,  :«2,  :«3,  327,  334, 

.3:^7,  338,  :s:^,  :i40,  543 
Baxter,  Richard,  120,  445,  521 
Beattie,  James,  q.  642 
Beau,  a,  489 

Beauty  of  style.  465.  483 
Beck,  Dr..  313 
Beecher,  H.  W.,  453 ;  q.  114 
Beers.  E.  L.,  q.  257 
Belgarde,  Abbe,  q.  11 
Belgrave,  Lord,  368 
Bell,  Sir  Charles,  q.  152, 154, 156,  159, 

55:3,  572 
Bentham  Jeremy,  360 ;'  cr.  xxv 
Bentley,  Richard,  360 
Berkeley,  George,  cr.  civ 
Bemers,  Lord,  cr.  396 
Berryer,  Pierre  Antoine,  554 
Bible,  The,  q.  387,  4M,  588,  603,  605 
"  Billings,  Josh,"  q.  76 
Biographical  study,  239 
Black  ink,  VM 
Blackley.  \V.  L.,  q.  81,  363,  365,  366, 

613,  614,  619 
Blackwood's  Magazine^  q.  18,  376 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


647 


Blair,  Hagh,  q.  xx,  xxi,  Ixxxvi, 
Ixxxvii,  cv,  cxxix,  249,  466,  505, 
506,  507,  510,  512,  513,  516.  520, 
528,  598,  598,  603,  606 ;  cr.  xxiii, 
xxix,  xxxvi,  Iv,  Iviii,  lix,  Ixvii, 
Ixxxii,  Ixxxvii,  ci,  cii,  cvi,  cxviii, 
cxix,  cxxvii,  394,  416,  435 

Blair's  Hhctoric  466 

Bliss,  Dr.,  356,357 

Block,  Maurice,  q.  487 

Blunders,  350,  381,  383,  427 ;  of  the 
press,  493-496 

BluntnesB,  451,  454 

lk)a«ting,  147 

Boileau,  Nicolas,  43 

Bolingbroke,  Henry  St.  John,  344 ;  q. 
478  ;  cr.  391,  416 

Bombast,  228,  232,  421 

Bombastic  commonplaces,  306 

BonnotH,  489 

B(H)th,  Edwin,  539 

liort's,  21,  216 

BobHuet,  James  Benignus  le,  344 

lioiisuet  and  Am  Contemporaries,  or. 
416 

Boston  Courier,  618 
Cultivator,  q.  57 
Post,  983 

Saturday  Gazette,  540 
Transcript,  q.  xxxii,  71,  502 
TraveUr,  q.  131 

Boswell.  James,  216-220.  252,  468 

Bovee,  C.  N.,  q.  271,  280,  283;  cr. 
295 

Brackets,  273 

Bradley,  Thomaa,  538 

Breathing,  550,  569,  569 

Brevity.  115,  19:i,  IW,  233,  411,  466 

lirulntwaier  Treatises,  439 

Bright,  John,  113 

Brilliancy,  25.  141,  467 

Broken  verses,  037 

Bn)ugham.  Henry,  Lord,  q.  xorUi,  581 

Bn)wn,  Thoniajt,  cr.  xxxvi 

Browne,  Sir  Thomaa,  q.  296 

Browning,   Robert,  q.   xx,  451,  475, 
.V.W 

Bruyere,  Jean  de  la.  q.  287,  288 

Bryant.  William  Cullen,  48,  817,  867 ; 
q.  290 

Buckingham.  Dnke  of,  466 

Buckle.  Henry  Thomas,  or.  ezzri,  891 

BufTon,  (tcorge  Looia  le  Clero,  q.  848 

Bulwer.  Henry  Lytton,  q.  140^  880, 
286,  287  ;  cr.  Ivii 

Bunyan.  John,  235;  q.  263,  631;  or. 
617 

BurgeM,  Daniel,  463 


Burke,  Edmund,  43,  45,  279,  468, 689 ; 

q.  xcv,  xcix,  120,  462 ;  cr.  Ixxii, 

:i85,  418,  452,  508 
Burlesque,  223,  224,  228,  229 
Burlesque  age,  132 
Burlington  free  Press,  q.  299 
Burli»</ton  Ifawkeye,  q.  224,  230,  254, 

37»J.  422,  495 ;  cr.  126 
Bnrney,  Afntutirs  of  Br.,  :i66 
Burns,  UolMjrt,  :i66,  51>7,  611 
Business  letters,  180-191 
But,  4:i2 
Butler,  Samuel,  611 ;  q.  Ixiii,  152,  286, 

623,  034,  ma.     See  Hudibras. 
Buttuian,  Prof.,  109 
Byron,  Lord.  lliS,  139,  219,  249,  482, 

598.  6:^9,  640;  q.  xcv,  272,  043 ; 

cr.  608 

Cacophonous  Couplet  on  CardineU 
Wolsey,  479 

Caesar,  Julius,  467 

Cnsora,  the,  636 

Cairns,  William,  cr.  xxv 

Calumny  from  raillery,  37 

Camden,  Charles,  481 

Camden  Post,  609 

Catnpaign,  The,  325 

Campbell,  George,  415.  616,  619 ;  q. 
XXX,  xlv.  Ixv,  oxxii,  cxxxvii,  106, 
128.  ;>25,  226,  a53.  358,  319,  :W4, 
3tM,  395,  396.  412,  422,  432,  438, 
441,  443,  44(>,  454.  400,  461,  Am, 
50.5,  513,  .5i0,  52<.>,  534,  5;i5,  6(6, 
620,  ri22;  cr.  xxx,  xlvii,  Ixxx, 
Ixxxii.  Ixxxiii,  ciii,  385,  3i92 

Campbell,  Thomas,  <539 ;  q.  cii,  271 

Candor  essential,  247 

Canterbury  Tales,  q.  348 

Capitals,  use  of,  xviii 

Carelessness,  42() 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  360 ;  a.  286,  287, 
28S,  im,  343.  349,  860 ;  cr.  471 

Carnochan,  Dr.,  Ji57 

Carr,  Dabncy,  418 

Carson.  Dr.  Alexander,  q.  600,  004 

Carte  de  viaite,  a,  480 

Case,  891 

Catullna,  489 

Cento  Verse,  480 

Century,  T%s,  q.  206 

Ohalmers,  Thomaa,  460:  or.  Ixrii 

Chttmhem''s  Journal,  489 

Channing,  William  Bllery,  q.  009,  088, 
:M4.  514.  570 

Chapman.  <>(>orge.  366 

Chaiactet  of  the  Kpeaker,  609 

Charles  the  Bold,  479 


648 


UHNJfiBAL  INDEX. 


Chatham,  William  Vm,  Earl  of,  er. 
452 

Chauoer,  G€oflfipey,  q  34»,  871,  485. 
681,  68U 

Chesterfield,  Earl  ot  605;  q.  128,  264 

Chicago  Herald,  a.  tXb 
mbune.  q.  iil,  478 

Children,  imagination  oi,  807;  ques- 
tions of,  HUH;  oompotttiona,  800 

Chinese  idioms,  86»;  paraUe,  888 

Choate,  Rufus,  444,  506;  q.  470 

Chronograms,  480 

ChrysostonL,  445 

Cioero,  286.  im,  860, 480, 468, 5^3,  530, 
524,  527,  580.  582,  630,  566,  601. 
607,  628 ;  q.  505,  508;  cr.  452 

Cincinnati  ('i»n$nereial,  q.  390 

Circular  letter,  171 

Circumlocution,  4'iO 

Clarendon,  Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of,  q. 
cvii 

Classification,  343 

Claade,  Rev.  John,  q.  313,  448,  633, 
524 

Clauses,  xxv 

Clay,  Henry,  488 

Clemencean,  M.,  514 

Clemens,  S.  L.     See  "Twain,  Mark." 

Clifford,  Justice  Nathan,  514 

Clifford,  Professor,  cr.  468 

Climax,  cxxiv,  cxxxiv 

Close  observation,  212 

of  feeling  as  well  as  factA,  348 

Clown  age,  181,  1:12 

Coarseness.  452,  454 

Cobbett,  William,  886 ;  q.  cxxvii,  414 

Cobden,  Richard,  440 

Cocker.  E.,  q.  •,65 

Coleridge,  J.  T.,  cr.  cxxv 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  16,  249,  SW,  437,  430, 
612;  q.  xxvii,  xliv.  2i,  65,  96, 
101,  117,  12(),  12S,  129,  \?A.  141, 
144,  220,  252,  2«)6,  269,  2.3,  344, 
347,  356,  :^1,  366,  :«l,  ;^84,  4(K), 
408,  411,  4:«,  4W,  4  59,  445,  451, 
468,  474,  4S7,  505.  521,  5,S7,  606, 
607,  610.  617.  618,  tKiO,  6:31,  632; 
cr.  xxxvii,  lxx.\ii.  cxxxix,  394, 
421,  457,  4^)9,  596,  61S 

Collard,  Royer.  488 

Collective  words,  xlii 

Cotlf^f  Courant,  cr.  cxiv 

Collinswood,  Lord,  q.  198 

Collocation,  437 

VoUoqni^it,  Sontheifs^  491 

Colon,  use  of,  274 

Oolton,  C.  C,  q.  cxxxiv,  280 

Columbia  College,  597 


•  Oolnmbas,  Christopher,  406 

Combinations  of  wr»rdn,  :W> 
I  Oomma.  oses  of,  x      :     '      !  \xxix 
j         oompnlaory  n- 
I         permitted  oik. 

Commencement  speeches,  306 

Cunimendation,  45-55 

Commonplaoes,  806 
I  OompMtiieM,  103 
I  ComparatiTe  degree,  xxviii,  xxix 

Comparison.  338 
!  C«>mp«»1linif  dis  nsaion,  72 

r  JUS 

)<.  uigee,  213,  350 

'  ('  ,  xvii 

<  ildrcn's.  309;  historl- 

.  31 1  ;  literary  sub- 

..ii;    HubjiH:t.s  generally, 

:i09;     suggestions,    309; 

-  :n2 

i  Cuntpretiiiiou,  457,  460 

Comte,  Auguste,  320 

Coiniu^  366 

Concatenation.  483 

Concede  unessentials,  60 

Conciliation,  524 

Concis.'uess,  4.')6 

Conclusion,  519.  531 

Condolence,  notes  of,  178 

Confucius,  q.  283,  286,  287 

Congrat-ilation.  notes  of,  178 

Congreve.  William,  1:19 

Conjunctions,  Ixxxvii,  cxviii,  cxxviii, 
cxxix 

Conjunction  phrase,  Ixxiv 

Connecticut  Legislature,  350 

Conservatives,  489 

Consonants  confounded.  155 

Construction,  grammatical,  353,   366, 
3()8,  :389,  411 

Construction  vs.  criticism,  587 

Contempt.  144 

Contractions,  :364 

Contradiction  not  argument,  62 

Conventional  jokes,  110 

Conventionalities,  10 
too  rigid,  173 

Conversation,  1-170.  305,  335,  505 

Cooke,  (}.  W.,  :329 

Copyrights.  5  )3 

Corneille,  P.erre,  13,  17,  560,  583 

Vornhill  yrufjazine^  q.  15,  59,  139,  142; 
cr.  xxviii,  619 

Correcting  proof,  497 

Corrections,  194,  49<) 

CoutUesxof  rnnhroke,  KpUiphon,  4?2 

Cousin,  Victor.  559 

Cowden-Clarke,  Mary,  456 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


649 


Cowley,  Abraham,  cr.  Ixxi 

Cowper,  William,  123,  :*!«,  56:^,  <8U; 

q.  xcix,  cviii,  72,  119,  208,  387, 

«38,  042  ;  cr.  38.2 
Crawfonl,  Mrs.,  158;  q.  479 
Creation.  305 
Crispin,  Mr.,  426 
Crispness,  197 
CriticiBin,  48, 143 ;  importance  of,  588 ; 

reading  as  a  means  of,  583 
Criticism  I'g.  construction,  587 
Critics,  (51 1 

Crosby,  Sheriff,  cr.  424 
Cross-examination,  70-72 
Cruelty  to  Children,  Society  for  the 

Frevention  of,  488 
Culture,  '6T-i 
Curtis,  (;.  339 
Cushing,  Hon.  Caleb,  351 

Dactvl.s,  636 

Daggett,  Hon.  Rollin  M.,  cr.  433 
DafBleish,  Walter  Scott,  q.  344 
Dallas,  K.  S.,  487,  511,  595  ;  q.  105. 131, 

(JU).  611 
Dame  Partington,  85 
Dana,  C.  A.,  408 
Dana,  James  D.,  cr.  ciii 
Dana's  Kousehold  Book  of  Poetry^  408 
Danhtiry  iVriM,  418 
Dandy,  a,  489 
Dangers  of  discussion,  62 
Dangers  of  wit  and  humor,  133-136 
Daniel,  481 
Daniel^  Book  of,  874 
Dante  degli  Alighieri,  344 
D'Arblay,  Madame,  q.  366 
Darwin,  Charles,  506 ;  q.  99 
Dash,  use  of,  365-267,  373 
Dating  letters,  183 
Davics,  Lady  Kleanor,  481 
Davies,  Sir  ijohn,  481 
Davis,  Senator,  q.  514 
Day,  H.  N.,  q.  Ixxvii 
Death  from  laughter,  100 
Death,  references  to.  22l-32:J 
Itfclnrntion  of  htdrpetuUnct,  cr.  457 

I»  ' niise.  48 

I  rpose,  190 

I  .  anthoriaed.  808,  879 

I  forming.  880 

I  ofthepeifod.480 

of  poetry,  SOS 
'  'itliH>rt*m,  479 


lenry,  q.  3 


<imre«  stndy,  563 


Delmer,  C,  cr.  xxvii 

Delsarte,  Fram.ois,  q.  553,  570,  571, 

57S,  57«J 
Demosthenes,  44»,  515,  528,  531,  534, 

53«,),  r>47,  562,  5^4 
Denison,  Abp.,  n.  iXi 
De  Quincey,    Thomas,   434.  460;    q. 

Ixxxvii.  cxxxii,  43,  96,  284,  846, 

354,  :J5U,  TjOo 
Describing  the  weather,  353 
Description,  24;i-255,  :^0r),  .V>5 
Description  at  first  hand,  244 
Descriptive  poetry,  599 
Details,  important,  86,  213,  334 
memory  for,  2l3 
siKJcific,  224.  249 
when  characteristic,  330 
Determinatives,  413 
Detroit  Free  Press,  74 
Development  of  the  subject,  337 
De  Vere,  Scheie,  q.  372,  374, 425,  538; 

cr.  cxv 
Diaeresis,  2(S 
Dickens,  Charles,  369,  628;   cr.  391, 

476 
Diction,  variety  in,  470 
Dictionary  authority,  162,  164 
Diderot,  Denis,  551 
Didot,  M.,  496 

Difficulties  of  speech,  153-161 
Difficulty  of  punctuation,  276 
Dignity,  26 
Dilke,  C.  W.,  cr.  397 
Dime  novels.  210,  335 
Dinner-table  age,  133 
Direct  preparation,  15 
Dirwtness,  IIW.  197,  448,  449 
Discouragement,  503 
Discourse,    iNtld   outlines,   3^^ ;    har- 
mony. 340 ;  plan  of,  335 ;  pro- 

ixirtion,  ;i40 
Discourtesy  ignored,  30 
Discretion,  18,  IW,  22<J 
Discussion.  62-80,  127 
Disguised  re{)roof,  5«{ 
Dishonest  artifices,  88 
DUraeli,  Iknjamin,  30.  28,  93.  97,  374, 

287,  296,  491,  579;  q.  486;  cr. 

Ixi,  cxviii 
DinMli,  Isaac.  290,  295 
DUUnotness.  151,  1.59 
/HMftioiu  of  PurUtj,  438 
DiTiaion,  the.  519 
Divisions  of  poetry,  599 
Do,  did,  dime,  Ixiv,  cxxvi 
Dobell,  Sydney,  039  630 
Dodingtnn,  CMorgtt  Babb,  q.  83 
Domestic  womaii,  a,  489 


050 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Domtniqne,  499 

JJoH  UuUnU,  138 ;  q.  286 

Dorivml,  M.,  551 

Doniet,  Countess  of,  q.  460 

Doucet,  CamiUe,  57» 

Dramatic  poetry.  SOO 

Drew,  B.,  q.  96» 

Dryden,  John,  350,  630;  q.  200,  204, 

613  me ;  or.  xxxri,  426,  456 
Dryden^  JCtnay  on,  587 
Dual  forms,  zzx 
Dumas,  Alexander,  18 
Duprez,  M.,  555 
Durcr,  Albrecht,  q.  143 
Dwight,  Joseph,  453 

Ea8B  of  narration,  206 

BasUake,  Lady,  or.  610 

BastUke  style,  530 

Echo  Teraes,  483 

Eoonomy  of  attention,  457 

Edwards,  A.  B.,  cr.  383 

Edwin  the  Fair,  507 

^otism,  138-149,  500 

^giac  stanza,  640 

ElenienU  of  EnaliMh  Ptomklif^  682 

Elephant,  the,  309 

EUjah,  606 

''Eliot,  George,''  628;  q.  266,  287. 
290,295,489 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  466 

EUiott,  Consul  A.  B.,  cr.  424 

Ellis,  Mrs.,  q.  290 

Eloquence.  505 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  315;  q. 
cxxxvii,  8,  9.  1 1 ,  87,  92. 108, 138, 
283.  28<i,  2S7.  289,  449,  4,50 ;  cr. 
617  ;  literary  habits,  ;i29 

Emphasis,  xx,  566,  570 

Encyelop<rdia  BritaHHica^  493 

English  verse,  633 

English  words,  a53 

Envelope  addresses,  181,  208 

Epic  poetry,  599 

Epictetus,  477 

Epigrams,  467,  486,  605 

Epitaphs,  4?2,  47:^ 

Epithets  avoided,  230 

EJquivocal  answers,  383 

Equivocal  verse,  483 

Equivocal  words,  399,  409 

Era.smus,  441  ;  q.  xcviii,  5 

Erskine.  Henrj-,  508 

Erskine,  Thomas,  q.  118 

Esmond,  Henry ^  325 ;  cr.  413 

Essay,  the,  209,  238,  305,  505;  bold 
outlines,  338;  delay,  337;  half 
done,  331  ;  harmony,  340 ;  how 


to  begin,  832 ;  pUn  of,  3a5 ;  pro- 
portion, 340  ;  rules  for,  :i34 
»  of  Atnerican  Humor,  502 

Btboege.  Geone,  q.  Ixvi 

BiiplMmy,4eO 

BunrbiMiea,  511 

B9^»  Ugtnd^  4^ 

BTwett,  Edward.  227,  540 

-    -  IW8 

ipoint,  256,  267 
T%e,  439,  mi 

Bzeroiaea,  xviii.  xxiii,  xxiv,  zzr, 
xxrii,  xxix,  xxxi,  xxxvi,  xlii, 
xlvi,  xlvii,  xlviii,  Iv,  Ivii,  Iviii, 
Ixii,  Ixiii,  Ixiv,  Ixvi,  Ixx,  Ixxiii, 
Ixxv,  Ixxvi.  Ixxxii,  ixxxiii, 
Ixxxiy,  Ixxxviii,  xcvi,  xcvii,  c. 
ci,  cv,  cvii,  cix,  cxv,  cxvii, 
cxviii,  cxix,  cxxi,  cxxiii,  cxxv, 
oxxvii,  cxxx,  cxxxiv,  cxxxviii, 
160,  165,  2.57,  294,  29«,  377,  31.7, 
408,  461,  4(4,  501,  608,  606,  (JOb, 
643 

BxpanaioD  of  words,  864 

BziMwnre  neoessary.  84 

Extemporaneous  qwaking,  532,  537 

Fablbs,  620 

Fair  PenUeut,  The,  574 

Familiar  subjects,  307 

Familiar  things  interesting,  174.  248 

Familiarity,  40,  41 

Family  bickerings,  40 

Family  ties.  172 

Fanshawe,  C,  q.  157 

Farragiit  Pageant,  The,  309 

Fashions,  371^ 

Features  of  scenery,  243 

Febve,  M.,  5&4.  581 

Feelinjgs  as  well  as  facts,  248 

Feet,  635 

Felicity,  472,  474 

Feltham,  Owen,  :360 

Fene'lon,  Francois,  520 ;  q.  283 

Fielding.  Henry,  q.  11,  451,  489;  cr. 

xxxii,  cxxviii,  3U4,  416 
Fields,  James  T.,  503 
Figurative  language,  fiOl 
Figures.  tiOl  ;    clas.sification  of,  602 ; 

danger  in  using,  621 
Fill  in  the  picture,  250 
Final  words,  570 
Firman,  H.  B.,  q.  xxxii 
Fitting  word,  the,  474 
Flatterers,  .'3 

Fletcher,  Bishop  of  Nismes,  q.  268 
Fletcher,  Mrs.,  q.  284 
Flood,  the,  400 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


651 


Folding  letterB,  201 

Fontenelle,  Bernard  de,  q.  488 

Foote,  Samuel,  q.  145 

Foreign  idioms,  3t>9 

Foreign  words,  :^)6,  :i68 

Form  peculiarities,  484 

Forrest,  Edwin,  41^1 

Fors  Vlavigera^  41^8 

Forster,  Nathaniel,  365 

Foster,  John,  ^M  ;  q.  231.  613 

Fox,    Charles  James,   849,  359,  368, 

^M  ;  q.  xcix,  509 
Fox,  W.  J.,  cr.  XXV 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  478 
Frankness.  141,  142,  145,  173,  196,  347, 

527 
Frnner'i  Magazine^  q.  198 
Freeholder,  cr.  412 
Freeman,  E.  A. ,  496 
French  lessons,  370 
Fuller,  Margaret,  q.  175 
Fuller,  Thomas,  613 ;  q.  282;  or.  xlvii 
Funny  Falkx,  q.  431 
Funny  man,  the,  513 
Fuseli,  Henry,  010 
Fusion  of  tin  ideas  of  others,  321 


(ivMi.,..  .A.  L....N,  514 

Garfield,  President,  356 

(iarrick,  David,  547,  562 

Gasconading,  148 

Gaskell,  Mrs.  Marv,  q.  416;  cr.  417 

Gathering  material,  319 

Gay,  John,  q.  283 

(•eiatic  system,  VSQ 

Gender,  389 

Genderless  personal  pronoan,  cr.  416 

G.'npn»l  words,  410 

r*     '     '   "?:', 

374 
<  Mme.,66,  76 

Gcrmau  gender.  390 
Gesture,   .')6«5,    57.5-57*.);   fundamental 

rule  for,  577 
Gil>l>nn  hldward,  cr.  xxv,  xxxviii,  413 
ft'ibnon.  Life  of  John,  cr.  619 
GilfiUan,  (W.  cr.  617 
C;ilniorf.  J.  H  ,  fi.  xlvi,  I,  Ixxr,  895 
Gininl,  Ahlx*,  486 
Giving  references,  179 
Gladstone,  \V.  Ewart,  491,  613 
Glassius.  634 
(tlossary.  663 
Glucose,  489 
G«eth««.  Johann  Wolfgang  von,  q.  134, 

387,  343,  487 
OoUUn  Age,  q.  433 


I  Goldsmith,  Oliver,  133,130;  -i    h'.', 

2m ;  cr.  295 
j  Good  breeding,  3-11 

(Jood  manners.  9,  10,  17,  42 

Good  temper,  529 

Good  Words,  cr.  civ 

Good-nature,  26,  77,  267 
j  Gorgias,  .529 

Gossip,  3'i-44 

Gossipy  letters,  192 

Got,  428 

Gough,  John  B.,  84 

Gould,  Jay,  215 

Gower,  John,  371 

Gracchus,  566 

(J race  Aboutiding,  531 

Graham,  G.  F.,  q.  165,  360,  410;  cr. 
295 

Grammatical   construction,  353,  366, 
368,  389,  411 

Grandmaison,  Parseval,  555 

Grant,  (Jeneral,  4C^ 

(iray,  Thomas,  q.  xix,  635,  640 

Gre«"k,  3.55 

Greeley,  Horace,  199 

Green,  J.  R,  q.  277 

Gn)te,  George,  489 

Grote,  Mrs.  Harriet,  489 

Gualter,  John,  531 

Guardian,  The,  cr.  xxix,  cvii,  cxxv, 
294 

Guess,  469 

Guiteau  trial,  71 

Gush,  173 

Habit,  .563 

Ilarketisack  Republican,  q.  57 

Hackett, ,  q.  607 

Hadley.  James,  q.  xliii 

Halcombe,  J.  J.,  q.  319.  543,  548,  567, 

57:i 
Hale,  Rev.  Edwar.1  E.,  310 
HaU,  Fitzedwanl.  KM  ;  q.  li,  43,  358, 

360,  8<J1,  :W,  371,  383,  400,  440, 

470 ;  cr.  3W 
Hall,  John,  q.  517 
Hall.  Rolwrt,  q.  349 ;  cr.  531 
Halpin,  1».  A.,q.  370 
HamilU>n.  Sir  Wm.,  q.  104 
Hamlet,  36<'.,  432 
Hancock,  John,  477 
Hardy,  Thomaa,  456 
Hare,  Julius  Charles,  q.  xviii,  xzri 
Hare.  T.  C.  and  A.  W.,  q  295 
ffarprr^a  Weekly,  q.  xlvi ;  cr.  335 
Harris,  .lamos,  q.  Ixxiv 
Harrison,  (reneral,  452 
Hart,  John  8.,  or.  Ixxi 


652 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


Hartc,  Biei,  318,  425 

Hasty  reproof,  50 

Haven,  Erastun  Otis,  cr.  9B,  06 

Hawtliome.  Nathaniel,  188;  q.  009 

Hayne,  iieneral  Robert,  508,  MQ,  806 

HasUtt,  WiUiam,  4;i.  «:« ;  q.  185.  270, 
JW2,  859;  cr.  94 

He  cannot  make  a  speech,  548 

Helps,  Arthur,  q.  ludv ;  or.  zo 

Hennage.  Dr.,  400 

HenrylV.,  4«7 

Henry,  Patrick,  cr.  452 

HepUmeteni,  643 

Herbert.  Greorge,  q.  291 

Herder,  John,  q.  ^1 

Hrrmit,  The,  642 

Hermogenea,  628 

Heroic  meaRure,  639 

Heron,  The.  581 

Hervey,  George  Winfield.  q.  88,  84, 85, 
43,  48,  49,  59,  66.  78.  76,  77. 128, 
142.  14:^,  226,  847,  487.  444,  445, 
458,  471,  521,  522,  588,  584,  526, 
531,  535,  596,  002,  007,  009,  612, 
614,  6-21,  624 

Heylin,  Peter,  481 

Hey  wood,  Legislator,  cr.  426 

Hiawatha,  ftW 

Hill,  A.  S.,  q.  270;  cr.  286 

Hill,  John,  q.  Ixi  Ixii 

Hippopotamus,  the,  319 

Hobbes.  Thomas.  360 ;  q.  272 ;  or.  98. 
95 

Hobbies,  21,  75 

Hodgson,  Shadworth,  632 

Hodgson,  W.  B.,  q.  xliii  and  passim., 
292.  397,  416,  417 

Holland,  Henry,  480 ;  cr.  cxxr 

Holland,  J.  G.,  cr.  Ixxx 

Holmes,  Gordon,  M8,  550 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  314,  589; 
q.   2;i  i:{0.  2152,  613 

Jfome  Journal,  369  ;  q.  52 

Homer,  25(>,  436,  597,  615 

Honest  praise,  ^3 

Hood,  Thomas,  318;  q.  118,  119,  613 

Hook.  Theodore,  q.  118 

Hooker,  Richard,  q.  354 

Horace,  451,  534 

Hortensius,  564 

Houdin,  Robert,  213 

Houses  of  Stuart  and  Hanover^  The, 
482 

How  thev  plav  the  piano  in  New  Or- 
leans, e524 

How  to  tell,  221-237 

Howell,  James,  q.  486 

Howells,  cr.  Ixxxvii 


Hudibras,  606 

Hmlson.  H.  Norman,  q.  848,  886 
j  Hogbaldi,  479 

!  Human  body,  diaooorae  likened   to, 
1  :S6 

i  Hume.  David,  478 ;  cr.  xxxvi,  Ivi 

Humor,  817,  358,  489,  512,  513 ;  af- 
fected, 425 

Hnnohbaok  age,  182 

Hunt,  Leiffh,  455;  q.  97,  178.  421,  632 

Huxley,  'lliomaii  H.,  cr.  Ixxvii 

Hygiene  of  the  voice,  556 

Hynuuh642 

mrperbole.  O0&  ODA 

^rphen,  iiseoi,20B 

**  I  *"  DISCAKDXD.  142, 145,  197 

I  say,  442 

Iambics,  6.35,  643 

Iambic  trimeters,  641 

Ideal,  the,  508 

Ideaa,  devdopment  of,  883;  every- 
where,  326;  organization  of, 
883;  reflection  upon,  333 

Idiot  ace.  132 

**  If  **  olaaseii.  cxiii,  cxxiii-cxxv 

Ilgenfrits,  Alice,  cr.  423 

Hind,  The,  366,  612 

Imagery,  excess  of,  622 

Imaginary^  self,  141 

Imagination,  children's,  307 

Imagination  in  narration,  235 
j  Impatience,  332 

Impersonal  verbs,  395 
I  Improbable  incidents,  210 

Impn)i)rietie8,  353 

In  Afri/inriatn,  i'A\ 

Inappropriate  words,  388 
I  Incidents  well  told,  240,  241,  253 
'  Incongruity,  111 

Indelicacy,  20,  30.  83 

Indirect  object,  Ixxiv 

Indolence,  iiS7 
I  Infinitives,   xviii,   xix,    xxiv,   xxv,  1, 
j  Ixxiv-lxxvi 

I  Ingersoll,  Robert  G.,  cr.  628,  629 
!  Inquiry,  letters  of,  180-185 
,  Insolent,  8 
I  Inspiration,  339 

Inspiration  of  an  audience,  539 
■  Inter- Ocean,  q.  90 

Interrogation  point.  256,  257 

Introduction,  the,  519,  .522 

Introduction,  letters  of,  179 

Introduction  to  letter,  192 

Invention,  331 

Inversion,  xxi,  xxiii,  ex 

Invitations,  176 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


653 


Iowa  I'*.  New  Hampshire,  63 
lri»h  Jiullx,  Ksmay  on,  438 
Irony,  ItSJ-l*^.  G02,  605 
Irregular  measure,  ftiS 
Irregular  verse,  ftW 
Irresistible  inferences,  233 
Irreverence.  21),  S^  103,  229 
Irving,  Edward,  452 
Irvini;,  Washington,  348,  611 
It,  xix 

Italian  "a,"  157 
lUlics,  571 
Its,  xlv 

James,  Hrnrt,  Jr.,  cr.  Iviii 

Jameson,  Mrs.,  q.  296 

Jean  Paul,  q.  613.     See  Richter,  Jean 

Paul. 
Jefferson,  Thomas,  363,  418 
Jeffrey.  Francis,  Lord,  443 
Jenkins,  E.  M.,  cr.  501 
Jeremiah.  624 
Jerrold.  Douglas,  428 ;  q.  106, 108.  279, 

(>09,  614 
"  Jintlemanly  ladies,"  375 
Job.  «K)5 
John  ideal  r«.  John  real,  141,  247 

Johnson, ,  q.  515,  6;J5 

Johnson,  Dr.  Samuel,  43,  66,  (W.  141, 

316-220,  :^9,  I'm,  439,  452,  468, 

475,   589.   605;    q.    13,  62,   110, 

21¥5;  cr.  Lxvii,  cxiv,  162,382,  385, 

:«6,  3'.>6,  5131),  (528 
Johnson.  Samurl.  q.  174 
"Johnsonese."  385 
Jones,  \Villi.im.  q.  cxxxvii 
Jonson,  B*»n.  q.  Ixiii,  Ixvi,  cvi,  21, 117, 

359,  456,  4(>5,  473,  483,  611,  637; 

or.  Ivii 
Journal  and  Onurirr,  497 
Jnttrnry  to  the  lltbrUlea,  il,  385 
Judicious  praise.  46 
Junius,  :{8(>;  cr.  Ixxxvii 

Kamrh.   Ix>rd,  624;   q.  210,  213,   ^-34, 

227.  2:il,  27'.»,  45S 
Kant.  Immatiuel,  358,  460 
Kath'een  Mavourneen,  479 
Kean.  F^lmund.  140,  868 
Keats,  John.  q.  Tc 
Keble,  Jn' 

Kemble,    i  cr.  \&S 

Kempis,   I  j  3S6 

Kennck,  Dr..  q.  44o 
Kenyon,  Ix>rd,  cr.  619 
Kidder,  D.  P.,  q.  :{:!1,  3:55 
Kil,  430 
Kinds  of  letters,  171-195 


Kingsley,  Charles,  439 
Kirkman,  T.  P.,  q.  :i57 
Kirkman^H  (inunniar,  cxix 
Kneller,  8ir  Godfrey,  140 

Labouciie,  John,  397 

lAuly  of  Shulott,  The,  638 

La  Fontaine,  John  de,  321,  472,  560, 
580 

La  Fontnine^x  Fables,  574,  580 

Laigne,  Florence  de,  495 

Lamartine,  Alphonec  de,  489 

Lamb,  Charles,  9«5,  122,  345,  :}60 ;  q. 
Ixiv,  87,  121,  177.  2.57,  2<M{,  271, 
27:^,  274,  2i»5.  :^-.2,  lim,  437,  619 ; 
cr.  125,  4*t,  616 

Lamb,  Mary,  q.  174 

Lancfuter  Intellignicer,  369 

Landor,  Walter  Savage,  q.  371,  373, 
411,  475.  601»;  cr.  cxxv,  412 

Language  and  character,  43 

Latimer,  Hugh,  cr.  452 

Laughter  not  scornful,  94 
a  painful  act.  100 

Lavoisier,  Anthony,  623 

Law  reporter,  the,  5«.H) 

Leadvule  Iferald,  cr.  424 

r^ar,  :}<*.6,  474 
j  lA;ed»  Merntry,  '^m 
I  Legible  penmanship.  198-200,  205 

Legouvt?.  Ernest,  q.  151,  156.  159,473, 
I  .'U9,  5.50,  55;^,  554,  56:^,  565,  570, 

I  575.  579,  580 

Legouv*'*,  M.  Sr.,  .5.55 

Leibnitz.  Gottfried  Wilhelm,  q.  104 

Le.«lie,  C.  R.,  cr.  xxviii 
I  ratter  II,   Tfu;  1.57 

Letters  of  courtesy,  116-180 

Letters  of  friendship,  l?i  176 

Letter-writing,  171-207,  3(»5,  505 

Lever.  Charles  James,  q.  2K2 

Lewes,  (ieorge  Henry,  q.  382 

Ijewis,  Sir  George  ('omewall,  488 

Lilwl  vs.  Truth,  :i5 

lAbiral  /frt'irw,  cr.  43-5 

Liberal-minded  man,  a,  489 

LilK-rals,  48U 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  q.  51 1 ;  cr.  470 

Linnffius,  Charles  ron,  G33 

TJy>opTamTnatistj».  4W) 


H  thod,  313 

\   adeiny,  or.  998 

>Hm,  cr.  cxix 
■  ner,  cr.  xxix 


654 


GINHBAL  INDEX. 


London  Fun,  158 

Morning  Chronicle,  or.  xlix 

Quarterly  Jteview,  q.  211 

Saturday  Hevitto,  q.  146 

Society,  q.  60 

Spectator,  q.  51  ;  or.  Ix 

Telegraph,  or.  cxxviii 

Truth,  579 
Lon^;,  Governor,  540 
Long  wordH,  IHH) 

Longfellow,  Henry  W.,  815,  817,  689; 
q.    'i5M,    tU5,    6:i8;    cr.    cxxiv, 
cxzvi,  :i9l 
LonginuB,  q.  cxxxi,  463 
Looseness  of  thought,  425 
Lord  Ullint  Dattgh^r,  4M 
Lome,  Marquis  of,  607 
Loadness,  56C 
Louis  XIV.,  460 
Lone'a  Labor  Lost,  866 
Lowe,  Robert,  IIS 
Lowell  James  RosselL  817,  318,  861, 

508;  q.  :M7 
Lowell  Courier,  q.  xxxii 
Loyola,  Ignatius,  311 
Lucian,  471 
Lucrece,  366 
Lucretius,  439 
Ludicrous,  the,  33-113 

not  absolute,  102 
Lather,  Martin,  450,  451  ;   q.  xcviii, 

40;  cr.  452 
Luther's  Table-  Talk,  610 
Lydgate,  John,  371 
Lyell,  Sir  Charles.  374 
Lyly,  John,  q.  282 
Lyrical  Ballmh,  443,  596 
Lyrical  poetry,  5W 

Macaronic  Poetry,  Jforgan\  483 

Macaulay,  Thomas  Babington,  17,  349, 
415,  4T6 ;  q.  xxxix,  xcv,  21t>-22ll, 
252,  290,  Ii8t),  43S,  4«i,  41*5,  50S, 
587,  642;  cr.  xxxvii,  xcviii, 
cviii,  294,  382,  395,  397 

Macbeth,  :^56 

McCarthy,  Justin,  cr.  396 

Macdonald,  q.  287 

Maclutosh,  John  I.,  cr.  cxi 

McKennev,  Thomas  L.,  q.  180 

Macklin,  Charles,  368 

Mactnillan's  Magazine,  494 

McQueen,  H.,  q.  153,  515,  529,  566, 
507,  569 

Magazine  of  American  History,  470 

Magnanimity,  70 

Mail,  q.  428 

Malaprop.  Mrs.,  381,  383 


Malapropos,  881 
Malapropa,  119 
MAlibnuu  MiiML  Maria.  555 
Mmih,  Horace,  q.  380,  290 
Manner  vt.  matter,  8^ 
Manuscnpt  legible.  492';  nnroUed,  194 
Maratht'H  Iwi^pmdent,  489 
Marganf  "  '  ' "  ,  Kpitaph  on,  473 
MarkT;.  i:t3 

Marlboro  n        of,  51,  :i25 

MamMtntel,  Jeau  I'Vaui^ois,  524 ;  q.  471 
Marth.    George    P.,     q.     xliv,     xlv, 

Ixxxvii,   ''-■    ''•"    ••""    "''■.  •'•  ' 

276,  8?J 

858,86:: 

411,  413.  47U,  4;(i,  491,  4.' 

or.  xlv.  ciii,  cxv,  cxxv,  l'^ 

885,  392,  411,  470 
MmhaU,  Thomas,  477 
Martial,  q.  110,467 
;  Marvellous  not  essential,  174,  »18 
Maaquerading  age,  13:^ 
Mawllon,  Jean  Baptiste,  521  ;  cr.  472 
Maaainger,  PhiUp,  344 
Maaeon,  J.,  cr.  ox 
Material  gathering,  319 
Maihew.  Life  of  C.  J.,  cr.  415 
Mathews,  W.,  q.  46,  140 ;  cr.  50 
Matter  vt.  manner,  342 
Matthews,  H.,  q.  291 
Mfttzner,  q.  xxxvii 
Maurv,  J.  S.,  530 
Max,  Prince,  22 
May  and  can,  Ixxiii 
May  hew,  Henry,  q.  414 
Mazarin,  Cardinal,  92 
Measures,  635 ;  heroic,  6:i9 ;  irr^ular, 

638 
Memorizing.  540 
Memory  for  details,  213 
Mendelssohn,  Felix,  q.  123 
Mn-chant  of  Venice,  446 
Meres,  Francis,  q.  108 
Metaphor,  602,  605,  61 1 ;  force  of,  619 ; 

inconsistent,  607  ;  mixed,  610 
Method,  521 
Method,  logical,  313 
Methods  of  preparation  for  speaking 

537 
Metonymy,  602,  604 
Mettemich,  Prince,  489 
Mill,  J.  S.,  143;  q.  105,  595 
Miller,  Hugh,  MS  ;  q.  291 
Milton,  John,  122.  139.  312,  .S44,  347, 

a58,  IHH),  3(J6,  495,  587,  631,  640 ; 

q.  xl,  Ixvi,  Ixxiii,  Ixxxix,  cxxxiv, 

119,  295,  474,  636,  637,  638,  640 ; 

cr.  xlviii 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


666 


Mimicry,  87,  131,  578 

Miners  vk.  minurs,  493 

MisM  or  Mrs.  y  183 

Mob,  -.m 

McKieration.  513 

Afotlern  I'ainterA,  632 

Mulf,  Fran(;ut8  Rene,  551.  554 

Moliere,  Jean  Baptiste,  321,  581 

Monkey  and  the  Cat,  The^  580 

Monrue,  James,  3(>i 

Montague,  Mrs.,  589 

Montesquieu,  Baron  de,  q.  488 

Montgomery,  James,  q.  cxxxvii 

Afnntniij  /i'fview.  The,  358 

Monvi'l.  J  acq  lies- Marie,  570 

Mooil,  305 

Moon,  G.  WaHhington,  104;  q.  Ivi,  283, 

412.  415,  4;i0 
Moore,  Sir  John,  retreat  of,  407 
Moore,  Thomas,  158,  :i48  :  q.  cxxxviii, 

479,  042  ;  cr.  xlviii,  :i82 
Morgan.  T.  J.,  q.  240 
ifun/an's  Xfacarouic  Poetry^  483 
Morley,  Henry.  Kil 
Morley.  Jolin.  440 
Mosquitoes,  397 
Molh»,  4:{9 

Moiilton,  L.  C,  q.  198 
Movement,  variety  in,  471 
Mozart.  T.  C.  W.  A.,  q.  342,  437 
Muih  Ado  About  Xothing,  417 
MulUr.  Max.  4^8 
Murdoch.  JumcR  Edward,  q.  160 
Murray,  Lindley,  43 
Mwical  Htrald,  q.  370 
Ma>ic«l  woman,  a,  4^ 

.V.  C.  Advocate,  39 »,  471 
Napoleon.  i:W,  50».»,  r>42 ;  q.  l    J,   1^1 
Naqiiet.  M.  514 
Narration.  ..'(»8-!)42.  :«»,  519,  525 

of  character,  21 1 

of  inipri-HsitmH,  212 

of  incidents,  209-211 
Naxal  tonen.  158 
"  Nasby,  Petroleum  V.,"  139 
Nash,  Thomas,  300 
.VaMhrilie  Ameriean,  S68 
Naturalness,  346 
Nature.  508 

Necessity  of  wide  reading,  888 
Negation,  Ixxviii-lxxxiv 
Negative  preKxes,  Ixxxi 
Neighbors,  ',i2 
NelM>n,  Ht.ratio,  139,  406 
Nelson,  Jim,  034 

New  £ttglatul  Jimmal  of  Education. 
5n:cr.  4S7 


New  Jersey  Journal,  cr.  436 
New  words,  353,  &V4,  359,  364  ;  facti- 
tious   notoriety,  362 ;    popular 

need,  36!^ 
New  Y^ork  Herald,  cr.  ex,  616 
Observer,  q.  298 
Standard,  cr.  501 
Sun,  q.  xxxi,  cxviii,  240,  241,  260, 

300,  423,  4»i,  545,  598,  608,  629  ; 

cr.  civ,  C17 
Tribune,  q.  850 ;  or.  393 
World,  q.  299 
Newman,  Cardinal,  343 ;  q.  345,  349 
Newspaper  age,  1%^ 
Newspaper  English,  363,  500 
Newspaper  faults,  222 
Newspaper  letters,  191-194 
Newspapers,  363 
Newton,  Isaac,  143,  610 
Nice,  373 

misuse,  xxvi 
Nice  person,  a,  1 1 
Nightingale,  Florence,  cr.  391 
Nilsson,  Mme.,  215 
Nonsense,  97 

Norristown  Herald,  q.  233 
North,  Lord,  q.  82 
North,  Roger,  451 
North    Anurican    Review,    cr.    xxxi, 

cxviii 
Northcote,  James,  610 
Nose,  breathing  through,  559 
Not,  Ixxviii,  cxix 
Not  only,  but  also,  cxviii,  cxxviii 
Notes,  539 
Noiea,  arrangement  of,  828;  taking, 

326 
Nothing  less  than,  4^i2 
Noun,  xviii,  xxiv,  xxxiv,  Ixii,  Ixziv, 

xcv,  cxii 
absoiiiU!  phraseM,  Ixxxix 
Noun  sentences,  xcv-ci 
Novalis,  cr.  I!i5 
Novel  words.  :«:i,  355 
Novelty.  :ti6,  854 
Number,  392 
NumVvred  J>spe^  194 
Nnni'  fives,  zli-xliii 


Oak  and  the  Reed,  The,  574,  580 
Objeot,  xviii,  xxiv 

indirect,  Ixxiv-lxxvi 
Objections,  refutation  of,  526,  537,  588 
Objective  genitive,  xliii-xlv 
Oblige,  1(» 
Observations.    See  Arrangement. 


666 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Observer,  The,  q.  900 
ObMlete  wonts,  35:{,  :j5I 
Obtruding,  84,  1()S,  140 
OfcuKioiial  rrproof,  .VJ 
O'Connell,  Daniel,  540 
(hlytusey,  012 
Official  poHition,  304 
Oliphant,  Mrs.,  44S 
OnuKsion,  411 
One.  417 

One  side  of  sheet,  194 
Only,  Ixxxiv-lxxxvii 
Onomatopoeia,  474 
Opening  sentences,  505 
Or,  cxxi-cxxiii 
Oral  punctuation,  673 
Oration,  the,  505 
Orders  by  letter,  186-188 
Originality,  330 
Ossian,  q.  iJ86 
Othello,  366 
♦'Ouida,"489 
Ovid,  q.  518 
Oyst*  rs,  4:.'8 
Ozanam,  Jacques,  q.  107 


-.  q.  287 


Paine,  - 

Paine.  W.  Perry,  bGS 

Palindrome,  the,  483 
Pall  Afnll  liudqet,  cr.  xxii 

Qazitte,  473 ;  q.  64  ;  cr.  xlix,  398 
Pangramniatists,  480 
Parables,  <»20 
Paradise  Lost,  366 
Paradise  lieqained,  366 
Paradox,  a,  .')29 
Paradoxes,  486,  489 
Parentheses,  :.*73,  441 
Park,  Alungo.  404 
Parker,  Richard  G  ,  cr.  Ixxxii 
Parr,  Dr.,  :>*7.  :^86 
Participle,  xviii,    xxiv,   xxv,    xlviii-1, 

Ixii,  Ixxiv 
Paiticiple     phrase,     xlix,     1,     Ixxvi, 

Ixxviii,  cix,  ex 
♦'  Parting t<in,  Mrs.,"  383 
Partition,  the,  519 
Pascal,  Blaise,  q.  :^2,  523 
Pastoi  al  jM)etry,  590 
Patterson,  Calvin,  q.  163 
Pause,  the,  6:36,  637 
Pauses,  513 

Payn,  James,  cr.  cxxviii 
Peabodv,  Dr.,  q.  264 
Peck's  Sun,  q.  422 
Pembroke,  (Jo unless  of.  Epitaph  on, 

472 
Penman's  Art  Journal,  q.  200 


Penn,  William,  cr.  xttri 

Pentameter,  63U 

PepiicrmesH,  "48 

Perception  of  the  ludicrouR.  10&>113 
enjoy eti  as  difficult,  109 
not  to  l>e  ucquiied,  106,  138 
not  to  Ije  obtruded,  108 
not  universal.  105 
value  not  factitious,  107 
wit  and  humor.  114 

Perq/  A  i< 

Ph-e  dr  / 

Perfirtiuii,     ,1.  -4.,».  4u) 

Period,  u>.  >  of.  xviii,  257-259 

Perioiiu-  htructure,  440 

Peroration.  5:{1 

Persiflage.  127 

Peratm  (of  nouns),  70 

Personal  reflectiuns,  106,  244,  246 

Personification,  (>02,  620 

Perspective,  351 

Perspicuity,  :i51,  484,  448,  570 

Persuasion,  505,  533 

Phedrus,  331 

Phelps,  Austin,  q,  Ixii,  Ixxxvi,  Ixxviii, 
exxi.  :^5,  348,  350,  :i51.  :^iO, 
862,  iHi\  384,  419,  431,  HiH,  440, 
448,  453,  463,  4li6,  469.  506,  538, 
604,  610,  633,  638  ;  cr.  385 

Phillips,  Wendell,  540  ;  q.  336 

"  Phoenix,  John,"  q.  xli,  118,  119 

Phonographic  echoes  from  Commence- 
ment, 306 

Piano-playing.  634 

Piers  the  Plowman,  371 

Pilgrim's  Pntgreas,  cr.  617 

Pitch  of  the  voice,  554,  557,  566,  567 

Pitt,  William,  139,  508  ;  q.  xcviii ;  cr. 
xxv 

Plainness,  450 

Plato,  3;^;  q.  57,  104 

Plausible  arguments,  63 

Plantus,  :J21 

Playful  liberties,  27,  39 

Pleasure,  theory  of,  104 

Plmnitre,  Charles  John,  q.  163,  104, 
548,  574 

Plutarch.  633 

Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  473  ;  q.  476 

Poetry,  r;87  ;  aim,  5i>3  ;  artistic  in,  595  ; 
'ballads.  .^99 ;  definitions  of,  5<W  ; 
descriptive,  h%) ;  distinguished 
from  oratory,  593 ;  from  prose, 
027 ;  divisions  of,  5iK» ;  dra- 
matic, 5<.ft);  epic,  5*.>9  ;  language 
of,  r98;  lyrical  599;  pastoral, 
599;  the'  prophetic  in,  r94 ; 
questions  concerning,  f-*.  6  ;    re- 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


657 


ilective,  5«9;   rhythm  of,  630; 

■ongs,  59U ;   subjective  element 

in,  r>«8 
Point  of  a  story,  85 
Politeness,  -i'i 
PolyeuHe,  583 
Pope,  Alexander,  139,   140,   866,  483, 

6iy ;  q.  cxxxiv,  cxxxvi,  32,  372, 

279,  2»>,  aS7,  21M,  \^i\,  474,  475, 

478,  G:i5,  «;{y ;  cr.  2U4,  618 
Poptilar  f/rammar,  cr.  426 
Porson,  Richard,  43 
Port  Roval  writers,  142 
Porter,  bbenezer,  q.  Ixv,  151, 153, 154, 

155,  547,  557 
Porter,  Judge,  71 

PohHCRsion  in  the  finder's  name,  321 
P(»s8C8s)  ves,  XXV,  xliii-xlvii 
possibilities  of  correspondence,  194 
I'lissibility  of  praise,  47 
Postal-card  errors,  Ixxxiv 
Postal  orders,  187 
Post-office  addresses,  183 
Potier,  Charles,  570 
Power.  351,4:^,448,  570 
Practical  jokes,  131,  Vi2 
Practical  refut-ition,  04 
Prei!isioii.  181,  1S8.  :«!.  399,  434,  448 
Predicat  •,  xvii,  Ixii-lxxvi 

auxiliaries,  Ixiv-lxxiv,  cxxv 

do,  did,  Ixiv,  cxxvi 
can,  Ixxiii 
1,  will,  Ixv-lxx,  Ixxii 
should,  would,  Ixx-lxxiii 
Preface,  v 

Preferences  exaggerated,  27 
Pro-hnmoristic  atr**  13'i 
Prejudice,  5.iS 
Preparation,  :i(>:'> 

Preparation  for  ^|><•;lKl^;,^  ."v>7,  542 
Preparation  for  the  press,  491 
PreiHNiitionH,  li-lviii 

table  of  apjuopriate,  lii-lv 
PreiK)8ition  phrases,  xxv,  1-lxii,  IxxIt, 

Ixxvi,  Ixxxviii 
Preservation  of  the  voice.  556 
PrcHs,  pre|»araiion  for  the,  491 
Pretension,  97 
Priestley,  Joseph,  3S1 
Prime.  r)r  ,  q   45 
Print  ,    415 

IVi.u  ,,.296 

Vn<»r  .-s,  Ixxxix 

Piivau-  icpitMtf,  57 
I'rivilegwl  person,  a,  4W 
Pi.»cter.  Bryan  Waller,  483 
Proctor.  It .  q.  494 
Professor, 


SSi. 


II..  q. 
,374 


Prolixity.  460 

Promptness,  196 

Pronouns,  xviii,  xxiv,  Ixxiv  ;  ambigu^ 

OU8,    413 ;   one,  417 ;   reflexive, 

417 
Pronunciation,  151,  16^-166 
Pronunciation    of    '*  pronunciation," 

IM 
Proof,  correcting,  497 ;  reading,  492 
Proper  names,  l(j5 

caution  in  using,  226 
Prophetic,  the,  in  jKXjtry.  594 
Proposition,  the,  519,  525 
Propriety,  351,  379,  400,  434 
Prose,  6:^1 

Prose  and  poetry  distinguished,  627 
Proverbs,  486 
Provincial  words,  366,  370 
Prudery,  29 
Pruning,  456,  457 
I'urk,  cr.  223 
Puff,  Mr.  Orator,  556 
Pugna  Porcorum,  479 
Punrh,  q.  19,  158,  420.  487,  491 
Punctuation,  xviii,  xxiii,  xlii,  Ixxxix. 

25(^'J00,  570.  572 
alisolute  rules,  25(>-275 
rules  of  judgment,  276-300 
Pungency,  514 
Punning,  477 

Puns,  111,  117-122,  14.5,614 
Purity,  351,  35:5,  400,  434 
Purpose  vs.  attainment,  135 
Put  Yourself  iu  hia  JHace^  4.51 
Puttenham,  George,  371 
Puzzles,  428 

QUAKEKS,  438 

Quarterly  lievUvo,  q.  847,  360 
Questions,  children's,  308 
Questions,  suggestive,  12,  81,  44,  61, 

80,  1:57,  150 
Quin,  Edwar<l,  574 
Quintilian,  511.  5iO,  528,  5-.'4,  5:W,  5»H, 

5(5<J,  002,  623;  q.  94.  2.50,   4:  ►4, 

4.'{6 
Quiz,  362  % 

Quotation  m«rks,  963 
Quoted  praise,  53 

Rabbit,  a.  880 

RabeUts,  Prands,  360;  q.  489 
Rachel,  480. 500 
Raoine,  Jean,  q.  17,  5821 
Radicals,  480 
Httnibirr,  The,  cr.  SW 
Ramscv.  I>can,  q.  118 
Hatcliffc,  Jfaryarei,  Epitaph 


658 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Reade,  Charles,  451 ;  q.  119 

Readine«8.  13,  69 

ReadiDg,  not  too  much.  323;   wide. 

322 
Reading  aloud,  549,  572 ;  art  of,  580 ; 

as  a  means  of  criticism,  582 
Rebuffs,  502 

Receiving  compliments,  55 
Ilecognized  phrases,  3 
Kecommendation,  letters  of,  1T9 
Redundance,  418 
Reference  to  self,  140,  817 
Reflective  poetry,  599 
Reflexive  pronouns,  417 
Refutation    of    objections,  S96,  5^7. 

528 
Registering  letters,  187 
Regnicr,  J.  A.  A.,  0-160 
R^rets,  notes  of,  177 
Relative  clauses,  277 
Relaxation  needed,  93 
Remitting  money,  180 
Repetition,  463 
Reproduction,  ii06 
Reproof.  55-60 
Reserve,  513,  514 
Reserved  people,  146,  147 
Rest  after  exertion,  557 
RetaUer,  q.  424 
Retort,  467 

Revealment  in  history,  215 
Revenge,  63 

Reynolds,  Joshua,  49,  459 
Rhetorical  pause,  573 
Rhophalic  verse,  482 
Rhyme,  633  ;  rules  for,  633 
Rhythm,  cxii,  627;   in  English  verse, 

633  ;  necessary  to  poetry,  6:^ ; 

requires  change  in  words,  634 
Richmond,  Dean,  19i9 
Richter,  Jean  Paul,  365,  563,  %2A.   See 

Jean  PauL 
Ridicule.  529 
Rivals,  The,  381 
Robberds,  J.  W.,  361 
Robespierre,  Memoir  of,  cr.  425 
•Roche,  Sir  Boyle,  q.  429,  537 
Rochester  Democrat^  cr.  222 
Rodogune,  583 
Rogers,  Henry,  623 
Rogers.  Samuel,  q.  39 
Roget,  Peter  Mark,  400 
Rolling  the  r' 8,  156 
Romantic  measure,  641 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  '^'i6 
Roscommon,  Earl  of,  q.  295 
Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  13,  43,  219 
Rowlands,  Henry,  q.  354 


Rnbini,  Jean  Baptiste,  551 

Rufus,633 

Rules  for  essay-writing,  334 

Rules  for  letter-writing,  196-307 

Rush  ton,  William,  q.  392 

Ruskin,  John,  392;  q.    143,   286,  34,% 

416,  417,  531,  632;  cr.  397,  412, 

438,468 
Rnaaell,  W.,  q.  562,  563,  5&4 


Saadi,  q.  40,  383 

Sacred  aubjeoU,  39,  ^,  103 

Sagacity,  <S9 

St.  Paul  Pwneer  Preu,  cr.  333 

Saint-Simon,  Claudius  Henry,  473 

Sainte-Beuve,   Char^ea  Augostin,    8, 

582 
Sales.  Francis  de,  441 
Sam  Weller,  101 
Sampson,  H.,  cr.  cxxvii 
Samson,  M.,  564,  574 
Sandeau,  Julea,  579 
Sarcasm,  133-138 
Sardanapalna,  459 
Satire,  133 
Satyrus,  562 

Savage,  Richard,  cr.  xxxri 
Saxe- Weimar,  Duke  of,  374 
Say,  M.,  528 
Scandal,  :i3 

SchiUer,  T.  C.  F.,  q.  108 
Schlegel.  Frederick,  q.  450 
School  Bulletin,  q.  180-190,  427 
Scott,  (Jeneral,  452 
Scott,  Walter,  348 ;  q.  257,  280.  482, 
494,  495,  611,  641 ;  cr.  xxxvi,  597 
Seek  to  please,  16 
Selecting  a  subject,  306 
Self-conceit,  138,  217 
Self-ingratiation,  37 
Self-re vealment,  149,  217 
Seneca,  q.  350,  607 
Sense,  339 
Sentences,  xvii 

complex,  xcv-cxii 

compound,  cxiii 

simple,  xvii-xciv 
Sentimentality,  173 
Sermon,  Essay  on  the   Composition 

o/a,  312 
Sermons,  444,  535 
Serpentine  letters,  483,  484 
Sesame  and  Lilies,  438 
Sewell,  William,  q.  286 
Seymour,  Horatio,  q.  387 
Shaftesbury,  Elarl  of,  q.  xxi 
Shairp,  T.,  q.  243,  342,  343,  346,  349, 


GENERAL   INDEX. 


659 


873,  588.  589,  5«3,  598.  594,  5»5, 
59«,  598.  .51>9,  632 

Shakapere,  William.  1<*5,  'J\9,  266,  844, 
347,  :i>l.  3t\t\  45«5.  50.S.  511,  5:i5, 
589,  597,  615.  JW^,  lUO ;  q.  xix, 
Ixiii,  Ixvi,  Ixviii,  Ixxii,  IxxiiL, 
zoix,  ci,  civ,  cviii,  cxxi,  cxxiv, 
78,  104,  111,  118.  119,  225,  257. 
261,  26:3,  268,  269,  286,  417,  5ta, 
636.  687,  641  ;  cr.  618 

Shall  and  will.  Ixv-Ixx,  Ixxii 

Shecid.  W.  G.  T.,  q.  VAS,  4:}6.  451.  477 

Shrei)fol<I.s,  n  IV^alvte  on,  438 

Shelley,  Percy  Byasbe,  q.  Ixii;  cr. 
cxxvi 

ShenHtone,  William,  611 ;  q.  Ixxiv;  cr. 
Ixvii.  Ixxii 

Sheridan.  R  IJ..  :t49.  368,  397,  467;  q. 
27t>,  2S4,  488.  574 

Sheridan,  T.,  q.  151,  476 

Shtridan'H  Workf,  467 

Short  paragraphs,  194 

Short  words,  1386 

Should  and  would,  Ixx-lxxiii 

Shul.lham.  E.  B.,  q.  557 

Sick  King  in  liok/mra,  q.  635 

Sidney,  PhUip,  476,  594 ;  q.  290 ;  cr. 
94  96 

Signatares,  200 

caution  as  to,  201 

Silence,  145 

Silver  by  mail,  186 

Simeon,  524 

Simile.  6(»2,  605;  adaptabUity,  607; 
belittling,  606;  condensed,  613 ; 
force  of,  619;  trite,  606 

Simonides,  612 

Simplicity,  affected,  442;  exoeadve, 
443  ;  must  not  seem  condeaoen- 
sion.  443 ;  of  expression,  439 ; 
of  thought,  437;  v».  triteness, 
445 

Sincerity,  448,  611 

Sing-song,  572 

Skoda,  1^1,  66 

Slang,  371 ;  uses  of,  375 

Small  pages.  194 

Smith,  Albert,  or.  381 

Smith,  C.  J.,  or.  Ivi 

Smith,  6.  a.  or.  396 

Smith,  Ooldwin,  143 

Smith,  Sydney,  q.  xcviii,  3,  9,  17,  45, 
54.  62.  tl7.  m,  72,  85,  104.  106, 
114,  116.  119,  120.  lt.«8.  129,  ISO, 
197,  221.  266,  .'{24,  :J47,  880,  886, 
3S8,  4ir..  4:R>.  460,  407.  487,  489, 
639.  609,  610 ;  cr.  43,  126,  135 

So,  Ixxxvii 


Sociability  unappreciated,  253 

Society,  17 

Society  Small  Talk,  q.  38,  51,  55,  145 

Socrates,  127;  q.  57,  68 

Solecisms,  353,  38'.> 

Solicitous  reproof,  59 

Somers,  Lord,  515 

Songs,  599 

Sonnet,  the.  640 

Sophocles,  439 

Sore  throat.  5.57 

Sothern,  Edward,  131 

Soult,  Marshal,  q.  cxiv 

South,  Robtrt,  2:57;  q.  cxxxviii,  138 

Southey,  Robert,  q.  359,  360, 361,  491 ; 

cr.  415 
Speaker,  the,  516 
Speaker,  the  character  of  a,  509 
Spectator,  The,  4^56,  48:S ;  q.  'M%,  358, 

44:^,  4«te.  480,   .529;   cr.   Ixxxii, 

cxxvi,  cxxvii,  294,  392,  417,  618 
Spectroscopic  Analysis,  494 
Spencer,  Herbert,  4^i4 ;  q.  xxxiii.  xxxv, 

xci.  cxxxi-cxxxv,  215,  225,  289, 

857.  4,59 ;  cr.  xlvi,  97-100 
Spenser.   Edmund,  USl,  639,  640;  q. 

:i54,  OSo.  640 
Spenserian  stanza.  640 
Splitting  of  particles,  Ix 
S(>ontaneity,  538 
Springfield  h'ej)ublican,  q.  cxiv ;  cr. 

xxxii 
Sta««l.  Mme.  de.  q.  16,  25, 123,  289,  290 
Standards  of  pronunciation,  162 
!  Stanley,  Dean,  115 
i  Stodman,  E.  C,  cr.  cxxv 
Steele.  Richard,  133,  468,^11  ;  q.  287; 

cr.  Ixxii.  cxxxvii 
Stephen,  Ijeslie,  415;  cr.  xxxvi,  cxxvi 
Sterne.  Laurence,  1 17  ;  q.  Ixviii,  105, 

2r^ 

Stock  stories,  82 

Stockhausen.  M.,  .551 

Stopping  argument,  72 

Stories  as  adjuncts,  81 

Stories  in  argnmcnt,  81 

Stormont.  Ijord.  349 

Story-tellinjj.  81 -iK),  208,  240,  241 

Stuart,  CMiarles  James,  481 

Stuart,  James,  481 

Stress.  570 

Style,  :M2;  definition  of,  344;  natu- 
ralness, :M6  ;  puritv,  '-Vi\  :  quali- 
ties «.f,  351 

Subdivision.  312:  specimen,  314 

Subject,  xvii,  xviii-xxiv,  cix,  oxxvii; 
summarized,  xxiv 

Subjective  element  in  poetry,  596 


660 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


Subjects,  choice  of,  18 ;  development 
of.  20,  «J7;  familiar,  JiUT ; 
selecting.  306 ;  sUted,  318 ;  sab- 
dividing,  312 

Subjunctive  mood,  xix 

Suggestive  questions.    See  Questions. 

Superficial  argument,  65 

Superlative  degree,  xxiz-zxxi 

Supeilativca  avoided,  SS37 

Superscriptions,  181,  206 

Surrey,  Earl  of,  &iO 

Sweetened  reproof,  58 

Swift,  Jonathan,  126,  138,  873,  608, 
611 ;  q.  Ixxui,  5-7,  43,  129,  236, 
267,  487,  488,  523,  613 ;  cr.  xxijc, 
XXX,  Ixxi,  ciii,  cxvi,  cxvii,  cxviii, 
cxxx,  11,  OS,  232,  272,  412.  426 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles,  q.  282, 
288 

Sympathy,  149,  237 

Synecdoche,  602,  604,  611 

Synonyms,  399 

Table-talk,  13-30,  145,  253 

Tacitus,  445,  596 

Tact,  3:^ 

Tadema,  Alma,  478 

Taking  notes,  326 

Talleyrand,  123 

Talma,  Francois,  156,  551,  553,  555 

Talma,  Mme.,  559 

Tattooing,  427 

Taiitophony,  477,  484 

Taylor,  General,  453 

Tavlor,  Jeremy.  495 ;  q.  288 

Taylor,  John,  360 

Taylor,  William,  358,  361 ;  cr.  382 

Taylor's  Edtcin  the  Fair,  507 

Technical  metaphors,  358 

Technical  words,  355 

Tedious  stories,  83, 148,  193 

Teeth  closed,  553 

Temper  uncontrolled,  79 

Temple,  Sir  William,  q.  83  ;  cr.  cxvi 

Tennyson,   Alfred,  640;    q.    xx,   314, 

285,  290.  475,  (>38,  641 
Tennvsonian  stanza,  641 
Tense,  396 
Terence,  321 

Tetrameters,  638,  639,  643 
Thackeray,  W.  M.,  q.  53, 149,  325,  ^54, 

369,  393,  468,  489,  613;  cr.  xxxi, 

xxxvi,  xxxvii,  Iviii,  Ix,  Ixxxiii, 

cxxvi,  413,  413,  415 
That,  xix,  xxxv,  xxxviii-xl,  cvii 
The,  xxxv-xxxvii 
The  first  two,  xxxvii 
The  former,  the  latter,  xxxviii 


The  one,  the  other,  xxxviii 
Themistocles,  q.  487,  511 
Theodolite,  the,  435 
Theo<loric,  48:} 
Theories  of  the  ludicrous,  93-104 

pleasure,  104 
Theeaurtu  of  Englieh  Words,  401 
This,  xix,  xxxv,  xxxviii-xl 
This,  the  other,  xl 
Tholuck,  Friedrich,  cr.  618 
Thompson,  D.  W.,q.  223 
Thomson,  James,  603,  640 
Thorn,  T^*",  448 
Thought-4|uickening,  337 
Thret;  black  crows,  m 
Throat,  sore,  557 ;  protection  of,  558 
Thurl>cr,  S..  q.  312 
Tibullns,  4:i9 
Tickell,  Thomas,  q.  xviii 
Tillot«on,  Archbishop,  569 ;  cr.  416 
Timee-JJemorrat,  025 
Titles,  30:i,  4:^ 

Titmarsh,  Michael  Angelo,  396 
Tone  in  narration,  221 
Tooke,  Home,  604 
Topical   analyses.     See    Analyses    of 

Chapters. 
Tramp  Abroad,  The,  390 
Tramn  overmatched,  74 
Trench,  R.  Chevenix,  q.  399 
Trimeters,  038.  042  ;  Iambic,  641 
Triteness,  445 
Trivialities,  215 
Trochaic  feet,  636 

Trollope,  Anthony,  617 ;  cr.  xxii,  391 
Tropes,  001,  605 
Truth,  482 
Truth  vs.  libel,  33 
Turennes,  Marshal,  527 
"Twain,  Mark,"  347,  390,  435;  q.  85, 

478,  488 
Twitting  on  facts,  28 
Tyndall,  J.,  5.59 
Typical  incidents,  314,  220 
Typographical  errors,   383,   493,  493, 

494-496 

Unemphatic  endings,  cix 
Unequal  discussion,  73 
Unfit  discussion,  74 
Unity,  .530 

Unity,  essential,  cx-cxii,  cxiii-cxviii ; 
I  in  narration,  235 

Unity  Club,  314 
Universal  Afigazuie,  439 
Unnatural  incidents.  310 
Unobtrusive  praise,  50 
Unpardonable  errors,  103,  335 


GENERAL  INDEX. 


661 


Usage,  national,  353,    366;   present, 

S&i ;  repntable,  353,  371 
Usages  of  society,  7,  9,  10 

Valerius  Maximus,  564 

Vanbrugh,  Sir  John.  cr.  391,  394 

Vandcnhoff,  George,  q.  162,  571 

\'.inity,  \m,  144.  L'16,  510 

\  ;irit  t)  ,  470;  in  diction,  470 ;  in  move- 
ment, 471  ;  in  verse,  636 

V.-v«u.  (JuBtavus,  405 

V.-lvft  glove,  the,  455 

N'enantius  Fortunatus,  521 

IVn»«  and  Adonis,  366 

\"frl)al  nouns,  xxiv 

\'erdant  Green,  173 

\  ore.  Scheie  de,  q.  373,  374,  425,  538 

N't  rsification,  6;tt 

\'.  rstogan,  Richard,  q.  354 
V.I  V  "  to  be  avoided.  227 

r    /  />'Ot;  Iferald,  q.  424 

\  1  t    ria,  Queen,  492,  608 

\  it>era,  Antonio,  q.  444 

\incent  of  Lerins,  q.  '.&& 

Vinet,  Alexander,  53:{,  !m,  534;  q. 
:«1,  512,  514 

\;irgil,  4:«> 

Virtue,  composition  on,  306 

\"ocabulary,  xxvii  ;  an  extensive,  401 

\'«)ciferouHne8«,  (56 

Voice,  the,  547 ;  acquirement  of  a 
good,  548  ;  hygiene  of,  566  :  an 
interpreter,  550  ;  loudness,  5<)6  ; 
physiology  of,  548 ;  pitch  of, 
554,  557,  566,  .567  ;  preservation 
of,  556 ;  proper  ose  of,  550 ; 
strength  of,  547 

Voltaire,  q.  171,  288 

Wakeman,  G.,  q.  838 
\VRliM>le,  Horace,  619 

Uiiril.  Artemas,"  118;  q.  cxiv,  488 
W  ar.l.  Dr.,  q.  45:i 
W.I  Ellington,  George,  q.  887 
Witts,  A.  A.,q.  fi» 
W;ittH.  Dr.,  681 
w.-.  r,(X) 

W.  .itli.  r  as  a  topic,  8SS 

W,  l,st,  r,  Daniel,  16.  71,  843,  50ft,  640, 

.-.•K-..  •110;  q.  884 ;  or.  468,  588 
W.-mK.  r^'.  Isaac,  370 
\^\l^s.  J..hn,  q.  117,  184,  184,  (KG;  cr. 

&5,  108,  180 
We$imituter  Xmrtew,  er.  oziz,  490 
What  ooosfeiiatea  poetry,  687 
What  to  tell,  818 


What  to  write,  173 

"  What-we-do  matters,"  174 

Whately,  Richard,  q.  cxxxi,  63,  133, 
2;«'),  ..'46,  250,  251,  312,  419,  422, 
4a5,  437,  440,  456,  4()2,  A^\5.  487, 
507,  510,  511,  512,  520,  r)22,  523, 
525,  52fJ,  527,  528,  52i),  f>3(),  5.T5, 
539,  567,  611,  612,  615.  621,  (J.M2; 
cr.  xxxiii,  cxxvii,  410,  462,  (J23 

Which,  cvi,  cvii 

Whipple,  Edwin  P.,  q.  107,  108 

White,  Richard  Grant,  164,  371;  q. 
xxiii,  Ix,  Ixvi,  Ixxii,  157,  384; 
cr.  xxxi,  Ixxxi,  ciii,  394 

Whitefield,  George,  cr.  452,  548 

Whitman,  Walt,  61^0 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf,  315,  317 

Who,  cvii 

Whose,  xliv 

Wilkie,  David,  611 

Will  of  the  audience,  533 

"  William  Henry  "  letter,  175 

William  Rufus,  494 

Williams,  James,  cr.  xxix 

Williamson,  Sir  Joseph,  459 

Waiis,  N.  P.,  :i60 

Wilson,  John,  q.  282 

Winegl<uut,  T/te,  483 

Winter  Dau  on  the  Prairie,  A,  589 

Winthrop,  R.  C,  q.  272 

Wisdom  of  learning,  23 

Wise,  Governor,  cr.  618 

Wit,  317,  513 

Wit  and  humor,  11:^-136 

Wither.  (Jeorge,  q.  Ixvi 

Witty  c«>mpliment8,  53 

Wolfe,  Gen.  James,  139 

WoUey,  Cardinal,  Couplet  on,  479 

Wood,  Mrs   Henry,  cr.  365 

Worcester,  Joseph  E.,  q.  Hi,  291 

Worcester's  Diitittnary,  cr.  3il3 

Wordsworth,  William,  43.  139,  866. 
278,  439,  606,  697,  698,  640;  q 
Ixvl  Ixxi.  602.  687,  685,  641 ; 
or.  443.  469,  475 

Wot  ton.  Sir  Henry,  611 

Writing  discourses,  637 

Written  analysis,  541 

Wyoherley,  WUluun,  q.  884 

r«as(,480 

Yield  when  oonrinoed,  76 

Ton  WM,  894 

Young,  Edward,  q.  zriii,  886,  474 

Zaire,  661 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


Ab-brt'Tl-ftte,  v.  t.  To  shorten ;  to 
abridge ;  to  contract. 

Ab-bre'vi-a'tion,  n.  Act  of  shorten- 
ing ;  contraction. 

Ab-nor'mal,  a.  [Lat.  oft.  from,  and 
norma,  a  rule.]  Not  conformed  to 
rule ;  irregular. 

AVso-liite,  a.  Not  limited  ;  uncon- 
ditional ;  complete ;  arbitrary  ;  des- 
potic ;  positive ;  peremptory. 

Ab'strict,  a.  Separate ;  existing  in 
the  mind  only ;  abstruse  ;  difficult. 
— n.   An  abridgment  or  epitome. 

Ac-^ent.  n.  Mwiulation  of  voice ; 
superior  stress  of  voice  on  a  sylla- 
ble ;  a  mark  to  regulate  pronuncia- 
tion, distinguish  magnitude.*),  etc. 

Ac-v^sa'i-ble,  a.  Capable  of  being  ap- 
proached. 

Ac-ci^rd'anre,  n.  Agreement ;  har- 
mony ;  conformity. 

Ac-cti'mu-l&te,  p.  t.  To  heap  together. 
— «.  t.  To  increase ;  to  be  aog- 
mentcd. 

Ao-ciS'mu-l4'tion,  n.  Act  of  aocumn- 
lating ;  a  heap. 

Ac'cu-ra-cy,  n.  Eixactness;  oorreoi- 
neu;  oloMneM. 

Ao'cn-rate.  o.  Done  with  care ;  with- 
oat  error. — 8tw.  Correct;  precise; 
just. 

A-i^rbl-ty,  n.    BiUenieu  of  tMta  or 

^  of  spirit. 

Ad'ai>-tA'tion,  n.    The  act  of  adapting 

^  or  titling  ;  suitablen**"  ;  fitness. 

Ad'e-<iuatc,  <i.  Fn"  "'  '  nt;  equal; 
proportionate  ;  l.-nt. 

An'junct.  n.     S<>i:  :nc<ltoaii- 

othor  — a.  Addc(i  to,  ui  uiiitod  with. 

Ad'u-I&'tion,  n.  Excessive  or  lenrile 
flattery. 

Af-firm'a-tlve,  a.  Affirming;  declara- 
tory ;  confirmative.— h.  That  which 
oOQtaioa  an  aflirmation. 


Ag'gre-g&te,  v.  t.    To  collect 

Ag-griBve',  v.  t.  To  afflict;  to  op- 
press or  injure  ;  to  harans. 

Al-loy',  n.  A  compound  of  two  or 
more  metals ;  a  baser  metal  mixed 
with  a  fine. — v.  t.  To  debase  by  mix- 
ing. 

Al-iy'.  n.  [Lat.  ad,  to,  and  ligare,  to 
bind.]  One  united  to  another  by 
treaty,  or  by  any  tie ;  a  confederate. 
— V.  t.    To  unite  by  compact. 

Al'ter-c&'tion,  n.  Warm  contention 
in  words  ;  controversy  ;  wrangle  ; 
dispute. 

Al'ter-n:\'tion,  n.  Act  of  alternating ; 
reciprocal  succession. 

Am'bi-gfi'i-ty,  »*.  Doubtfulness  of 
meaning. 

Am-blg'u-oaR.  a.  Of  nnoertain  mean- 
ing ;  doubtful ;  equivocal. 

A-nill'o-gy,  n.  Agreement  between 
things  which  are  in  most  reapeota 
entirely  unlike ;  proportion. 

A-nXl'y-»is,  n.  (pL  A-nXl'y-see.) 
Resolution  of  any  thing  into  its  con- 
stituent elements. 

An'a-iyze,  v.  t.  To  resolve  into  fint 
principles  or  elements. 

A-nXt'o-miEe,  n.  To  divide  into  the 
constituent  parta,  for  the  pnrpoee  of 
examining  each  by  itself. 

An'eo-ddte,  n.  A  short  story  or  inci- 
dent. 

An'nals,  n.  pi.  A  chronological  his- 
tory ;  chronicles.  » 

An-tlg'o-nlst,  n.  An  opponent;  a 
competitor ;  a  contender. —a.  Ooini* 
teraoUng;  oppoalnc. 

ABte-^^rat,  H.  'Riat  which  goM 
before.— a.  (aoing  before  in  time.— 
Sm.   Prior;  preceding;  preTioai; 


anterior;  foregoing. 

An-tl^-p*te,  ».  (.    To 

fore;  to  f oretaala. 


take  or  do  ba- 


664 


GENERAL  OLOSSART. 


An.tlih'e-«U,  n.  (pi  An.tIt]i'<»-«9«> 
Opposition  of  words  or  sentimflnU ; 
contrast. 

ApVthy,  n.  Want  of  feeling ;  insen- 
sibility. 

A-p<'>8'tro-phe,  n.  [Gr.  apo,  from,  and 
9trophi,  a  turning.  ]  A  taming  frocn 
real  auditors  to  an  imagined  one ; 
contraction  of  a  word,  or  the  mark 
[']  used  to  denote  each  oootrao- 
I  ^  tion. 

,  Ap'pel-14'tion,  n,  A  name  by  which 
a  thing  is  called.— 8tn.  Title ;  ad- 
dress; style. 

Ap-pre'oi-4te  (-shi-),  r.  I.  To  Talne ; 
to  raise  the  valne  of. — v.  i.  To  rise 
in  Talne. 

Ap-pre'ci-i'tion  (-shl-4'shan),  n.  Act 
of  appreciating  or  yaloing  ;  a  joit 
estimate. 

Ap'pre-h5nd',  v.  t.    To  seixe ;  to  ocm- 

^  ceive  by  the  mind  ;  to  fear. 

Ap'pre-hSn'Mon,  n.  Act  of  appc«- 
hending ;  conception  of  ideas ;  fear ; 

^  distrust. 

Ap'pre-hSn'Rlve.  a.  Quick  to  appre- 
hend ;  fearful 

Ai)-pro'pri-ate,  a.  Belonging  pecu- 
liarly.— Stn.  Fit;  adapted;  perti- 
nent; suitable;  proper. 

Ap-prox'i-m&te,  v.  t.  To  bring  near ; 
to  cause  to  approach. — v.  i.  To  draw 
near ;  t-u  approach. 

Ap-prox'i-mate,  a.    Near  ;  nigh. 

^p-prOx'i-raa'tion,  n.     Approach. 

Ar'bi-tra-ry,  a.  Dictated  by,  or  de- 
pending on.  will ;  bound  by  no  law ; 
absolute  in  power. — Syn.  Tyran- 
nical ;  imperious ;  unlimited ;  abso- 

..  lute  ;  despotic. 

Ar'gu-ment,  n.  Reason  alleged  to  in- 
duce belief ;  plea. 

Ar-ringe'ment,  n.     Act  of  arranging ; 

,.  adjustment. 

Ar'ti-san,  n.     A  mechanic. 

Art'ist,  n,  A  professor  and  practiser 
of  one  of  the  fine  arts. 

As'poct,  n.  Look  ;  air  ;  countenance  ; 
appearance. 

As-sPrt',  V.  t.     To  aflBrra. 

As-sO'ci-ate  (-shi-at),  r.  t.    To  join  in 
company  ;  to  unite  with. — v.  i.  To 
unite    in    company    or    action. — a.  j 
Joined  in  interest ;  united. 

As-sume,  t*.  t.  [Lat.  ad,  to,  and  su- 
mere,  to  take.]  To  take;  to  take 
for  grantefl ;  to  pretend  to  possess. 
— V.  i.  To  be  arrogant. 


Ai-tifb^te,  V.  1.  To  ascribe ;  to  im- 
pute 

At'tri-bute,  n.     An  inherent  quality. 

An'di-ble,  a.     Capable  of  being  heard. 

An'thor-iae,  «.  I.  To  give  authority 
to;  tomakeleml;  to  Justify. 

Anx-Illa-ry,  a.  Helping ;  assisting. — 
n.  A  Terb  that  helps  to  form  the 
moods  and  tenses  of  other  verbs. 

Awk'waid-neai,  n.     Ungraoef ulness ; 


Azi-om,  fL  A  self-evident  proposi- 
tion  or  tmth. — Stm.  Maxim  ;  aoage. 

Azl-om-it'ic,  a.  Pertaining  to  ax- 
ioms ;  of  the  nature  of  an  axiom. 

Bidl-nim  (bCd'i-nilzh).  >i.  Light  or 
playful  discourse. 

Bin'ter.  ».  L  To  rally  ;  to  ridicule ; 
to  joke  or  jest  with. — ti.  Raillery ; 
joke. 

BomlMst  (bQml>ft8t),  n.  High  sound- 
ing language ;  fustian. 

Bi^vH-ty,  n.    Coi 


Cft'denpe,  n.  A  fall  of  the  voice  in 
reading  or  speaking ;  modulation. 

Ca-jule',  V.  t.  To  deceive  by  flattery  ; 
to  wheedle. 

CU'om-ny,  n.  False  and  malicious 
accusation. — Stn.  Slander;  defa- 
mation ;  libel ;  abuse. 

Cir'i-ca-ture,  iu  A  representation  ex- 
aggerated to  deformity  ;  a  ludicrous 
likeness. — v.  t.  To  represent  ludi- 
crously. 

CSt'e-go-ry,  n.  One  of  the  highest 
classes  to  which  the  objects  of  knowl- 
edge or  thought  can  be  reduced ; 
predicament ;  state ;  condition. 

Gau'tion,  n.  Prudence ;  care  ;  admo- 
nition ;  injunction  ;  warning  — v.  t. 
To  advise  against ;  to  admonish. 

Cen-so'ri-oils-ness,  n.  Quality  of  being 
censorious. 

^ha-grln',  n.  Ill-humor  ;  vexation. — 
V.  t.     To  vex  ;  to  mortify. 

^Ir-cdm'fer-en^e,  «.  The  line  that 
bounds  the  circle. 

^Ir'cum-lo-cu'tion.  n.  The  use  of  in- 
direct expressions. 

^Ir'cum-scrlbe',  v.  t.  To  inclose ;  to 
limit ;  to  confine. 

Cite,  V.  t.     To  summon  ;  to  quote. 

Clis'si-fi-ca'tion,  ii.  Act  of  arranging, 
or  state  of  being  arranged,  in  classes. 

Clause,  n.     Part  of  a  sentence. 

C15r'ic-al,  a.    Pertaining  to  the  clergy. 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


665 


Cll'xnax,  n.  [Gr.  fdimax,  a  ladder.] 
Gradation  of  aacent  in  a  sentence. 

Col-lfct'lve,  a.  Formed  by  gathering ; 
inferrint' ;  conipreht-nding  many. 

CfilHo-c&'tion,  n.  Act  of  placing ;  ar- 
rangement 

Col-16'qui-al,  a.  Pertaining  to,  or 
Qsed  in,  conversation. 

Cum'bi-iia'tion,  n.  Union  or  associa- 
tion.— Syn.  Coalition ;  conjunction  ; 
conspiracy. 

Cum'men-da-tion,  n.  Praise ;  appro- 
bation. 

Com-pftr'a-tlve,  a.  Estimated  by  com- 
pariaon  ;  not  positive. 

Com-pir'i-Bon,  ».  Act  of  comparing ; 
comparative  estimate ;  simiie. 

Corn-pile',  V.  t.  To  compose  out  of 
materials  got  from  other  works. 

COm'plai-since',  n.  Civility ;  cour- 
tesy ;  urbanity ;  politeness. 

COm'ple-mt'nt,  n.  That  which  com- 
pletes something  elae ;  the  full 
number. 

Cdm'plex,  a.  Of  many  parts  ;  intri- 
cate ;  complicated. 

Com-plfx'i-ty,  n,  A  complex  state; 
intricacy. 

Com'pli-cate,  »».  t.  To  make  complex 
or  intricate —Syn.  To  entangle; 
infold  ;  involve  ;  perplex 

Cdm'pli-ment,  ti.  Act  or  expression 
of  civility  ;  praise. — »'.  t.  To  Hat- 
ter or  gratify  by  bestowing  praise 
upon. 

Ck>m-port,  v.  i  To  agree;  to  suit.— 
V.  t.  To  l>chave ;  to  conduct. 

Com-iWMilte,  a.  Made  up  of  parts; 
com|Mmiide(l. 

Cfim'po- sl'tion  (-zlsh'un),  «.  Mixture  ; 
combination ;  arrangement  or  set- 
tmg  of  type ;  a  written  work. 

Coni-i>ound,  r.  t.  [Lat  eon,  with,  to- 

f,'»»th»»r,  and  ponere,  to  set,  ulace.] 

T         \  in  one  mass ;  to  oomoine  or 

Ui  adjust— V.  i.  To  oome  to 

-f  agreement. 

Citm'prc-hte'sive,  a.  Including  much 
in  small  space.— Stm.  lArge ;  full ; 
capacious. 

Com-prts'sion,  n.  Act  of  pressing 
together. 

Con-^e',  V.  t.  To  grant ;  to  admit 
as  true  or  proper. 

Con-vCit',  n.  Fancy;  vanity;  pride 
of  opinion. 

Con-vCive',  v.  t.  To  form  in  the  mind ; 
to  imagine. 


CJon-<;?n'ter,  )  ».  i.  or  t.    To  oome  ot 

Con-<^5n'tre,  )      bring  to  a  point 

Con\en-trate,  or  Con-i.en'trate,  v.  t. 
To  bring  to  a  common  centre,  or  to 
a  closer  union. 

C«u'<;eu-tra'tion,  «.  Act  of  concen- 
trating. 

Con-^iri-ite,  v.  t.  To  gain  by  favor  ; 
to  win  over. — Syn.  To  propitiate  ; 
to  engage. 

I  Con-cise'ness,  n.    Breyity  in  speaking 

I      or  writing. 

;  Conoom'i-tant,  a.     Accompanying. — 
'      n.  A  companion  ;  accompaniment 
I  Con-dense',  v.  t.     'To  compress  into  a 
I      smaller  compass  ;  to  crowd. 
I  Cfin'de-sgfn'sion,  n.      Act  of  conde- 
scending ;    afl'ability. 
;  Con-doleiiQe,  n.     Expression  of  grief 
i      or  sympathy. 

Con-duije',  v.  i.    To  tend  ;  to  contrib- 
ute. 
I  Con-fute',  V.  t.   To  disprove ;  to  prove 
I      to  be  false. 

Con-gr&t'u-l&te,  v.  t.  To  wish  joy  to. 
—Syn.     To  felicitate. 

C6n-grJt'u-la'tion,  n.  Act  of  con- 
gratulating ;  felicitation. 

Con-jfct'fire,  «.  Opinion  based  on  im- 
I>erfect  knowledge  ;  surmise  ;  guess. 
— V.  t.  (Lat.  ettn,  with.  t<igether, 
and  jcu'ere,  Jrrtus,  to  tlirow.]  To 
guess  ;  to  suspect ;  to  surmise. 

Con-junc'tion,  «.  Union  ;  connection  ; 
a  connecting  word. 

Cun'scioQs-ncss,  n.  Perception  of  what 
passes  in  one^s  own  mind. 

Cdn'so-nant,  a.  Agreeable;  consis- 
tent; accordant — tt.  A  sound  less 
open  than  a  vowel ;  a  letter  repre- 
senting such  sound. 

Con-stnic'tion,  n.  Act  or  form  of  con- 
structing ;  thing  constmoted ;  struc- 
ture ;  fabrication  ;  edifice  ;  interpre- 
tation. 

C«>n'strue,  r.  t.  To  translate,  inter- 
pret, or  explain. 

Cdn'tem-pU'tion,  n.  MediUtion; 
study,  as  opposed  to  action. 

Context,  f*.  [Lat  eon,  with,  together, 
and  texitu,  knit]  Paris  of  a  <lia- 
oourse  that  preoede  and  follow  a 
sentence  quoted. 

Coo-trt(otioii,  fi.  The  shorleniiig  of  a 
word,  by  tlM  omiasiaa  of  a  letter  or 
syllables 

Con-trast',  v.  f.  or  (.    To  plaoe  or 


666 


OBNUUL  OL088ART. 


Ooii-T«ntioQ-«l,  «L    Afned  on ;  slip- 

nlfttad ;  Mwotioned  by  uaage. 
Con-vBrge',  0.  i.    To  tend  toward  000 

point. 

Cdn'ver-ai'tion,  n.  Familiar  dia- 
ooorae;  behavior. 

Con-vSrt',  v.  t.  To  change  to  another 
form  or  state. 

Oon-Tio'tion,  m.  A  proring  gailky: 
•tate  of  being  convinced;  Moae  of 
guilt;  confutation. 

Con-vln^e'.  v.  (.  To  aatiafy  by  ori- 
denoe  —Syk.  To  permiade. 

Co-or'di-nate,  a.  Holding  the  Mine 
rank  or  degree. 

CoD'-tt-la,  n.  The  word  which  nnitea 
toe  subject  and  predicate  of  a  propo- 
sition. 

Cdp'yriKh^  (-rit),  ft.  The  sole  right 
of  an  author  to  publish  a  book,  etc. 
— r.  L  To  seoore  by  copyright^  as  a 
book. 

Gor-rM'a-tlTe,  a.  Having  mutual  re- 
lation, —n.  One  who,  or  that  which, 
stands  iu  a  reciprocal  relatiou  to 
some  other  person  or  thing. 

Oourt'e  sy  (kurt'e-sy),  n.  [From 
court.]    Politeness;  civilitj. 

Cre-dali-ty,  n.  Easiness  of  belief; 
readiness  to  believe. 

Cri-te'ri-on,  it.  {f)l.  Crl-tC'ri-a.)  A 
standard  of  ju(vi&g> 

Crltl-i^ise,  v.  t.  To  judge  and  remark 
upon  with  exactness.—*,  i  To  act 
as  a  critic. 

Crlt'i-ylsm,  n.  Art  or  act  of  criti- 
cising ;  critical  examinatioQ  or  re- 
mark. 

Cy'do-pae'di-a,  or  Cy'clo-p5'di-a,  n.  A 
body  or  circle  of  sciences ;  a  dic- 
tionary of  arts  and  scienoea. 


De-dQc'tion,  n.  An  abatement ;  that 
which  is  deducted  ;  an  inference. 

D?f'er-en^,  n.  Respect  or  concession 
to  another. 

De-fine',  v.  t.  To  end ;  to  mark  the 
limits  of ;  to  explain  ;  to  interpret 

D6f  i-nite,  a.  Having  precise  limits  ; 
certain ;  exact. 

DSf'i-nl'tion  (-nish'un),  n.  Descrip- 
tion of  a  thing  by  its  properties ; 
explanation  of  the  meaning  of  a 
word. 

De-llv'er-y,  n.  Release  ;  surrender  ; 
style  of  utterance. 

Dim'on-strate,  or  De-mon'-strate,  v.  t. 


To  prove  fully  or  to  a  certainty.— 
Byn.  To  evince;  manifest 

Dim'un-Ntri'tton,  n.  Proof  to  a  cer- 
tainty. 

De-mon'stra-tive.  a.  Tending  to  dem- 
onstrate; oonolusive. 

De-ptod'entv  a.  Relying ;  snbordi- 
«.    Obo  rabordinate  to  an- 


Div'i-T&tloii,  ft  DednctioD  from  a 
•oaroe ;  act  of  tracing  origin  or  de- 
■eeni,  ••  of  wocds. 

De-rfig'a-to-ry,  a.    Detracting. 

De-aorlp'tion.  f».  Act  of  describing ; 
aoooont;  claaa. 

De-eorlp'tlve,  a.  Containing  descrip- 
tion. 

De'taiU  or  De-t&il'.  n.  A  minute  ac- 
count or  portion  ;  a  particular. 

De-t&il',  V.  t.  To  narrate  in  particu- 
lars ;  to  particularize ;  to  appoint  for 
a  particular  service. 

De-trftct',  K.  i  [Lat  </<*,  from,  and  tra- 
herf,  Irmtnin,  to  draw. ]  To  depre- 
ciate worth. — V.  t.  To  slander. 

De-tric'tion,  ft.  Slander ;  defama- 
tion. 

De-vtl'op.  V.  t.  To  unfold ;  to  un- 
cover ;  to  lay  open  to  view. 

D6'vi-&te,  ».  i.  [Lat  de,  from,  and 
viare,  to  travel]  To  wander;  to 
go  astray  ;  to  err. 

De-vise*,  v.  t.  To  contrive  ;  to  plan  ; 
to  invent ;  to  give  by  will. — v.  i.  To 
lay  a  plan. 

DSx'ter-oQs,  a.  Expert  in  manual 
acts  ;  skilful ;  adroit. 

D?x'ter-oQ8  ly,  adv.  With  dexterity 
or  skill. 

Di'a-logue,  »i.  A  discourse  l>etween 
two  or  more. 

Dic'tion,  n.  Manner  of  expression ; 
choice  of  words. 

Dl-grfs'sion  (-grfsh'un),  ft.  A  devia- 
tion. 

Dl-la'tion,  or  Dl-la'tion,  ft.  Act  of 
dilating ;  expansion. 

Dis-c&rd',  v.  t.  To  dismiss ;  to  cast 
off. 

Dis-c5m'  {diz-z5m'),  v.  t.  or  i.  To  see  ; 
t*)  perceive  and  recognize  ;  to  judge. 

Dis-course',  n.  Conversation  ;  talk  ; 
sermon ;  treatise. — v.  i.  To  con- 
verse; to  talk. — i*.  t.  To  utter  or 
give  forth. 

Dis-creet',  a.  Prudent ;  cautious ; 
sagacious. 

Dis-cre'tion     (-krSsh'un),     ft.       Pru- 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


667 


denoe ;  sagacity ;  freedom  to  act  at 
will. 

Dia-crlm'i-n&te,  v.  t.  To  distingniBh ; 
U>  separate. 

DiK-crlm'i-n&'tion,  n.  Act  of  discrim- 
inating ;  mark  of  distinction. 

DiM-oasr,  V.  t.  [Lat.  dis,  apart,  and 
quatere,  to  shake,  strike.]  To  dis- 
perse :  to  examine  by  discussion. — 
Syn.  To  debate. 

Dis-caft'Hion  (-kilah'nn),  n.  A  debate ; 
disquiHition  ;  disnutation. 

Dis-jQnc'tion,  n.  Disunion  ;  separa- 
tion. 

Di«-janctlve,  a.     Tending  to  disjoin. 

Dia-pir'age,  v.  t.  To  injure  by  depre- 
ciating comparisons. 

Dis-tluct',  a.  Separate  ;  different ; 
clear ;  not  confused. 

Dl-v6rge',  V.  i.  To  tend  different 
ways  from  one  point. 

Di'verse-ly,  adv.  In  different  ways  or 
directions. 

Da'al,  a.    Expressing  the  number  two.  j 

Du-pl!<;'i-ty,  n.    [Lat.  duvlicitas^  from 
duplex,  aouble.]    Douolenesa  of  art  | 
or    speech. — Syn.      Dissimulation;' 
deceit ;  guile. 

Ef-fect'ive,  a.  Able;  active;  effi- 
cient. 

Ef-fl'cien-^y  (-fish'en-),  n.  Power  of 
producing  effect. 

E'go-tism,  n.  [Lat.  ego,  I.]  Self- 
commendation  ;  vanity. 

E-lib'o-r&te,  v.  t.  To  produce  with 
labor.  I 

K-lib'o-rate,  a.  Finished  with  great ' 
care.  I 

El'e-ment,  n.  The  constituent  part  of 
a  thing.  i 

ES-lIm'i-nate,  v.  t.  To  cause  to  disap-  , 
p4>ar  from  an  equation  ;  to  set  aaiae  ' 
as  unimportant ;  to  leave  out  of  oon-  : 
sideration  ;  to  dedaoej  to  infer.         I 

E-Ils'ion  (-llxh'un),  it.  The  cutting  off" 
of  a  vowel  at  the  end  of  a  word. 

El-IIp'sia,  n.  (pt.  ElUp'sea.)  In 
gratnmar,  the  omission  of  a  word 
or  phrase. 

E-luVi-dAte,  v.  L  To  explain;  to 
maxe  clear. 

E-lA'Qi-d&'tion,  n.    Explanation. 

Em-bMIIsh,  V.  t.  To  make  beantifol 
by  adornment. 

B-mer'gen-oy,  n.  A  rising  out  of  a 
fluid ;  a  sadden  occaaion ;  preasiiig 


Sml-nen^e,  n.  A  rising  ground; 
loftiness;  distinction. 

£m'pha-sis,  n.  {jjl.  Em'pha-sSs.) 
Force  of  voice  given  to  particular 
words. 

Em-phSt'ic,  a.  Forcible  ;  strong  ;  nt- 
teretl  with  emphasis. 

Elm-plr'ic-al,  a.  Used  and  applied 
without  Rcience. 

Em-plr'i-cism,  n.     Quackery. 

Elm'u-l&'tion,  n.  Rivalry ;  competi- 
tion. 

En-cflmlier,  v.  t.  To  impede  action 
by  a  load  or  burden. 

EIn-graft',  v.  t.  To  insert,  as  a  scion 
in  a  stock. 

E-nor'mi-ty,   n.    Atrociousness ;    de~ 

^  pravity. 

En'ter-t&in',  v.  t.  To  treat  with  hos- 
pitality ■  to  amuse. 

EIn-thu'si-ast,  n.  One  whose  imagina- 
tion is  heated. 

En'thy-meme,  n.  An  argument  con- 
sisting of  only  two  propositions. 

E-nu'mer-&te,  v.  t.  To  number;  to 
reckon  up  singly. 

E-nun'oi-&te  (-nOn'shi-),  v.  t.  To  de- 
clare ;  to  utter. 

Spi-grkm,  n.  A  short  and  pointed 
poem. 

Ep^-thSt,  n.  An  adjective  expressing 
some  especial  appropriate  quality 
or  attribute. 

E-quIv'a-lent,  a.  Elqual  in  value, 
power,  or  effect. — n.  That  which  is 
equal  in  value  or  worth. 

E^uiv'o-cal,  a.     Ambiguous;  donbt- 

^ful 

Ks'say,  n.  A  trial ;  attempt ;  a  short, 
informal  treatise. 

Els-sSn'tial,  (1.  Necessary  to  existence  I 
very  important— <•.  Otmaiitaciii 
principle. 

fx'y-mbVo-gj,  n.  Derivation  of  words 
from  their  originals. 

Eu'pho-ny,  n.  An  agreeable  sonnd 
or  combination  of  sounds. 

E-vAlve'.  V.  t.  To  unfold ;  to  expand ; 
to  emit. 

Bx-ftctl-tade,  n.     BxaotnMS. 

Ex-icfneas.  n.    Aocamoy ;  nicetj. 

Bz-ig'ger-4tioii,  n.  A  repnaentntioii 
bcTond  the  tmth. 

Bz-c6aslT«,  a.   Erooiting  Just  limits ; 


lEx-clikde'.  r.  t.    To  shut  out ;    tu  de- 
bar; to  except 


66S 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


Bx-clQ'aioo,  fi.  Act  of  exoloding ;  re- 
jection. 

Kx-orSa'oeni,  '  a.      Growing    out   of , 
■omething  else ;  in  a  pretermttaml 
manner ;  BupeiiBuoaa.  , 

Ex-pXn'sion,  n.     Act   of  expanding  ; 
dilatation ;  extent  i 

Ex-po'nent,  n.     Index  of  a  power  in  j 
algebra :  a  reproaentative.  j 

Ex'po-tl'tion  (-zlah'nn),  n.     Explana-  \ 
turn  ;  interpretation ;  an  exhibition 
of  arts,  etc. 

Ex-tSm'po-r4'ne-oa«,  a.  Uttered  with>  j 
out  previons   study ;     nnpnmadi- 

Ex-^n'sWe-ly,  adv.  Widely ;  largely. 

Ex-trSv'a-gan<;e,   n.    State  of   being 

extraragant;  exoeaa;  prodigality. 


Fa-oe'tioflB,  a.     Hnmorons ;  witty. 

Fac-ti'tioQs  (-tish'ua).  a.  Made  by 
art ;  artitici&L 

Fil'la-vy,  n.  DeceitfulnoM ;  decep- 
tion ;  Bophifltry. 

Fa-mil-iiri-ty,  n.  Litimate  acquaint- 
ance ;  ease  m  intercourse. 

Fe-li'^i-tons,  a.  Happy;  delightful; 
very  apprupriate. 

Fe-ll^'i-ty,  n.  Great  happineaa — 
Stm.  BIIbb;  blisafulness ;  bleaaed- 
nesa. 

FUt'ter-y,  n.  Act  of  fiattenng; 
praise,  especially  fal^e  praise;  adu- 
lation. 

FOr'eign  (fdr'in),  a.  Belonging  to  an- 
other country ;  not  to  the  purpose. 
— Syn.  Alien ;  remote ;  extrinsic. 

Form'u-la,  n.     Prescribed  form. 

Func'tion,  n.     Office;  employment. 

Fun'da-m^nt'al,  a.  Pertaining  to  the 
foundation ;  essential. 

Fu'tlle,  a.  Useless ;  vain ;  worthless  ; 
ineffectual 


G5n'er-Sl'i-ty,  n.  State  of  being  gen- 
eral ;  the  greatest  part 

G5n'er-al-i-za'tion,  n.  Act  of  gener- 
alizing. 

Gfn'er-al-Ize,  v.  t.  To  arrange  under 
general  heads. 

G?n'er-ate,  v.  t.  To  produce;  to 
cause. 

Gro-t?8que'  (-tJsk'),  a.  Wildly  formed  ; 
odd ;  whimsical. 

GuJr'an-tee',  v.  t.  To  warrant. — n. 
A  surety  for  performance. 


Har'mo-ny,  w.  [Gr.  hamionia^  from 
Afirrfff >'/•»>»,  to  tit  together.)  Agree- 
I  i  of  musical  strains 

«-h  and  quality. 

lit:  .,  „  ...  .i..,  a.  Of  a  different 
nature. 

Huu'or-a-ry  (un'ur-),  a.  Conferring 
honor. 

Hu'mor  {or  yii'mnr),  n.  Temper; 
dbpositlon  ;  a  delicate  kind  of  wit ; 
pleasantry. 

Hu'mor-ous  (j^  yn'mur-),  a.  Exhib- 
iting humor  ;  jocular  ;  waggish  ; 
pleasant ;  playful. 

Hy'gl-ene,  n.  science  of  the  preaer> 
vatton  of  health. 

Hy-piic*ri-sy,  n.  Dissimulation;  in- 
ainoerity. 

HH><^'e-«Is.  or  Hj^-p6th'e-sls  (pi 
Hy-p(Vth'e-ses,  hi-  or  ni-),  n.  Suppo- 
sition ;  proposition  assumed. 

i-dO'al,  a.  Existing  in  idea  or  in 
fancy.— Sin.  Visionary  ;  fanciful ; 
imsginary  ;  unreal — n  The  concep- 
tion of  a  thing  in  its  most  perfect 

^  state. 

Idl-om,  It.  An  expression  peculiar  to 
a  language. 

B-lOs'tnie,  V.  t.  To  explain  ;  to  make 
clear ;  to  elucidate. 

Illus-tr&'tion,  n.  Elxplanation  ;  elu- 
cidation. 

Ln'be-<,Ile,  a     Weak  in  mind  or  body. 

Im-pai^tial,  a.  BVee  from  bias. — Stn. 
Unpreiadiced  ;  just ;  equitable. 

Im-pCde ,  V.  t.  To  hinder ;  to  ob- 
struct ;  to  retard. 

Im-p?l'.  V.  t.     To  urge  forward. 

Im-pCr'son-al,  a.  Not  varied  accord- 
ing to  the  persons. 

Ln-pr^sslve,  a.  Producing  effect ; 
susceptible. 

In-Sc'cu-rate,  a.     Erroneous. 

In-Sd'e-quate,  a.  Not  equal  to  the 
purpose. — Syn.  Unequal ;  incompe- 

^  tent ;  insufficient ;   defective. 

In'a-nl'tion  (-nish'un),  n.    Emptiness  ; 

^  exhaustion  from  lack  of  food. 

In'ap-pro'pri-ate,     a.       Unbecoming ; 

^  unsuitable;  unfit. 

In'<ji-dent,  a.  Falling  on ;  casual ; 
liable  to  happen. — n.  That  which 
happens. 

In'yi-dent'al,  a.  Happening  occa- 
sionally. 

In-clude',  u.  t.  To  comprehend ;  to 
comprise. 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


669 


In'oon-gral-ty,  rt.  UnRuitableneaa ; 
inoonsiBtenoy. 

In-c6n'gru-oil8,  a.  Not  conHistent.— 
Syn.    Untit ;  inappropriate  ;  uasuit- 

^  able. 

In-<iff'i-nlte,  a.     Not  preciKC. 

In-d?ri-ca-yy,  n.  Want  of  delicacy. 

In'dfl'i-cate,  a.  Offensive  to  purity  ; 
indecent. 

In'di8-j>?n'8a-ble,  a  Not  to  be  dis- 
pensed with ;  absolutely  necesisary. 

In-dorae'raent,  n.  A  writing  of  one's 
name  on  the  back  of  a  note ;  sanc- 
tion ;  approval. 

In-drn,-e',  v.  t.     To  lead  by  persuasion. 

In-duQe'ment,  n.  Anything  which  in- 
duces. 

In-er'ti-a  (-er'shl-a),  n.  That  proper- 
ty of  matter  by  which  it  tends  when 
at  rest  to  remain  so,  and  when  in 
motion  to  continue  in  motion. 

lu-f  v'i-ta-ble,  a.  Not  to  be  avoided  ; 
unavoidablo. 

In'fer-encje,  n.  Deduction  from  pre- 
mises ;  conscQUencc. 

In'form'al,  a.  Wanting  form  ;  with- 
out ceremony  ;  irregular. 

In'ge-nu'i-ty,  n.  Ready  invention; 
skill. 

In-sert',  v.  ^  To  bring  into  or  among ; 
to  introduce. 

In-ser'tioo,  n.  Act  of  inserting ;  thing 
inserted 

In-sin'u-a-ting,  ppr.  Creeping  or 
winding  in ;  insensibly  winning 
favor  and  confidence. 

In'stinct,  n.  Unconscious,  involun- 
tary, or  unreasoning  j)rompting  to 

■    II 
actuated. 


Moved   from   within  ; 
In-tXn'gi-ble,  a.     Not  perceptible  by 

t'u-al.    a.     Relating    to   the 
tending;  mental 
in  'I.     Knowing ;  instruct- 

Ill  '  y,  tulv.     In  an   intelli- 

cuut  uiauuur. 
In^ter-oSune,    n.     Matual    dealings; 

fellowship. 
In'tor-lln'e-4'tion.   n.     A    writing  or 

printing  between  lines. 
in'ter-p9n'e-tr&te,  v.  L     To  penetrate 
^  between  other  subatanoea. 
In't  1   po-li'tion,  n.     The  act  of  foist- 
in  ■  I  vviird  or  paaaage  into  a  manu- 
sc-nia  ur  buuk. 


In-ter'pret-a'tion,  n.  iilxplanation ; 
exposition  ;  version. 

In'ter-rOg'a-tlve,  a.  Denoting  a  ques- 
tion.— n.  A  word  that  indicates  a 

„  question. 

In'ter-mp'tion,  n.  Interposition ;  stop  ; 
hiu«liance. 

In'tcr-sperse',  v.  t.  To  scatter  among 
or  here  and  there. 

In'ter-vun'tion,  n.      Act  of  interven- 

^  ing ;  interposition. 

In'tn-cate,  a.    Entangled  or  involved  ; 

^  complicated. 

In-trln'sic,   a.     Internal;    true;  real; 

„  inherent ;  essential. 

In'tro-diic'tion,  a.  Act  of  introduc- 
ing ;  a  preface. 

In-ver'sion.  n.  A  complete  change  of 
order  or  place. 

In-vSs'ti-ga'tion,  n.     A  searching  for 

_  truth ;  examination ;  inquiry. 

I'ron-y,  n.  Speech  int<;ii«l<'d  U)  con- 
vey    a    contrary     signification ;     a 

^  species  of  ridicule. 

Ir're-slst'i-ble,  a.  Impossible  to  be 
resisted  with  success. 

Ir-r5v'er-enve,  n.  Want  of  reverence 
or  veneration. 


Jn-dl'oious   (-dish'ns),   a. 
acting  with  judgment. 


Prudent 


Le'gend,  or  L^g'end,  n.  A  remark- 
able story  ;  inncription  ;  motto. 

Le-glt'i-mate,  a.     Ijawful  ;  genuine. 

Li'a-bil'i-ty,  n.  A  state  of  i>eiug  Ua- 
ble  ;  res{)onMbility  *  tendency. 

LilDel,  n  A  ilefainatory  writing ;  a 
written  statfuit-nt  ot  tlie  caus4>  of  a 
1^^  action  aixl  «>f  the  rflief  sought. 
— V.  t.  To  defame  by  writing ;  to 
proceed  againHt  tiy  tiling  a  libel. 

Lroenae,  n.  PermiHsion  ;  exoeaa  of 
liberty. — v.  t.  To  |H'ruut  by  legal 
warrant;  to  authonze. 

Llm'it,  n.  A  bound  ;  Irarder. — v.  t 
Toaei  bounds  to ;  to  confine  witliin 
oertain  bounds. 

LU'er-a-ry,  a.     Relating  to  literature. 

Lit'er-a-t''ite,  n.  Acquaintanoe  with 
books ;  literary  productions.— Stn. 
Learning;  enidition. 

LAg'io,  n.  Science  and  art  of  reaaon- 
ing< 

Lfl'tu-orons.  a.  Exciting  laughter. — 
Syn.    laughable ;  ridiculoua. 


670 


OBNB&AL  OLOBfiART. 


Ma-llg'iuuii,  a.   Maliciouii ;  daagtaeomt 

to  life. 
Maii'i-fect-4'tion,  n.     Exhibition ;  dis- 

pUy;  revelation. 
Mix'i-mom,  n.  {pi.  MIxl-mm).     The 

greatest  quantity  or  Taloe  attain- 
able in  a  given  caae. 
Mis-Xp'pre-h^n'aion,  n.    A  mistake. 
MOd'er-ate,  a.     Not  violent  or  exoea- 

rive ;  temperate ;  sober. 
Mdd'er-4tioQ,  n.    State  of  being  mod- 

erate. 
Mud'i-f  i'er,  n.  He  who,  or  that  whiehf 

modifies. 
Miid'i-fy,  V.  t.  To  ehange  the  form  of ; 

to  qualify ;  to  rary. 
Mdn'o-lOgne,   n.    A    speeeh   by   one 


Mo-ndp'o-Iise,  v.  t.  To  engroas  the 
whole  of. 

M6r^id,  a.  [Lat  morbidu*^  from 
morbHt,  disease.]  Not  sound  or 
healthy.— St. f.  Diseased  ;  siekly ; 
sick. 

Mut'u-al,  a.  Reciprocal;  acting  in 
return. 

Myth,  ft.     A  religious  fable ;  a  fiction. 

My-thdro-gy,  n.  A  system  of  fabu- 
lous doctrines  respecting  heathen 
deities. 

Nar-r&'tioa,  a.  Relation;  rehearsal; 
recital;  account. 

Nfg^i-gent-ly,  adv.  Heedlessly  ;  care- 
lessly. 

Ob-j^ctlve,  a.  Relating  to  the  ob- 
ject ;  outward ;  external. 

Ob-8cure',  a.  Dark ;  gloomy ;  not 
easily  understood  ;  not  much  known. 
—V.  t.  To  darken;  to  make  less 
clear  or  beautiful.     . 

Ob-serve',  v.  t.  To  see  ;  to  notice ;  to 
utter,  as  a  remark. 

Ob'so-lete,  a.     Disused  ;  out  of  date. 

Ob-trude',  v.  t.  To  thrust  in  or  upon ; 
to  urge  upon  against  the  will. 

Ob'vi-oQs,  a.     Evident ;  clear. 

O-pIn'ion,  w.  Judgment  formed  by 
the  mind  ;  notion  ;  sentiment ;  per- 
suasion. 

Op-po'nent,  a.  Opposing;  antago- 
nistic.— n.  Anopposer;  an  antago- 
nist 

O-r&'tion,  n.  A  public  and  elaborate 
discourse.  * 

Or'nate.  a.  Adorned;  decorated; 
beautiful. 


(Vtho-e-py,    n.     Correct   pronunoia- 

tion  of  words. 
Osten-tA-tioQs,  a.   Affectedly  showy ; 

gandy ;  pretentiona 

Pia'der,  v.  i.  To  act  as  agent  for  the 
paaeions  of  others. 

Pii'a-ble,  n.    A  moral  fable. 

Pir'a-d6x,  n.  A  tenet  seemingly  ab- 
surd, yet  tme. 

PM'aat-ry,  n.  Ostentation  of  learn- 
Ing. 

Per-^j^/tioo.  n.  Act  or  power  of  pcr- 
oeinng. — Stn.  Idea;  conception; 
sentiment;  sensation;  observation. 

P^emp-to-ry,  a.   Positive ;  absolute. 

Per'fect,  a.  fLat  perfeetu*^  per- 
formed, finiahed.]  Complete;  fin- 
ished; oonsommate. 

Perfect,  or  Per-ffct',  v.  t.  To  fin- 
ish ;  to  complete. 

Per-f6c'tion,  w.  State  of  being  per- 
fect ;  completeness. 

Per'ma-nent,  a.     Durable;  lasting. 

Per-mls'ston  (-mish'nn),  n.  Act  of 
permitting ;  formal  consent ;  leave ; 
liberty. 

Pfcr'o-ri'tion,  n.  The  closing  part  of 
an  oration. 

Per'qui-site,  n.  An  extra  allowance 
in  money  or  other  things. 

Per-sp^'tlve,  a.  Relating  to  vision. 
— «.  Art  of  representing  objects 
correctly  on  a  plain  surface. 

Per'spi-cu'i-ty,  n.     Clearness. 

Per-suide',  ». /.  To  influence  by  argu- 
ment or  entreaty. 

Per-sua'sion,  n.  Act  of  persuading  ; 
creed  ;  belief  ;  opinion  ;  reason. 

Per- vide',  v.  t.  [Lat.  pervadere,  fr. 
ner,  through,  and  vadere,  to  go.] 
To  pass  through. 

Phr^Me,  n.  A  sentence;  mode  of 
speech;  style;  diction. — v.  t.  To 
name  or  style. 

Phra'se-dl'o-gy,  n.  Manner  of  expres- 
sion. 

Pla'cate,  v.  t.     To  appease  or  pacify. 

Plaa'si-ble.  a.  Superricially  pleasing  ; 
apparently  right. — Syx.   Specious. 

Po-llte',  a.     Polished  ;  refined. 

Po  llte'neas,  n.  Good  breeding ;  cour- 
tesy. 

Pos'si-biri-ty.  n.  The  power  of  being 
or  doing  ;  that  which  is  possible. 

PrXc'ti-cal,  <i.  Relating  to  practice; 
cajiable  of  beinj?  turned  to  use. 

Pre-c5de',  v.  t.     To  go  before. 


GENERAL   GLOSSARY. 


671 


Pr»-^lii'ion,  (-•izh'an),  n.  ExacineBa ; 
acrnracy. 

I':  I'lu'i-nanye,  n.  Aaoendenoy; 
^  i|'«iiority. 

Piifer-enve,  n.  Estunation  or  choice 
a>M)ve  another. 

Pre-flx',  V.  t.     To  place  before. 

PrP'f Ix^  n.  A  letter,  syllable,  or  word 
prefixed. 

Prej'udlce,  n.  Prejudgment;  un- 
reasonable preposseBsion  ;  V>ia8  ;  in- 
jury.— V.  t.     To  bias  unduly. 

^ .'  1  "i  (U'cial  (-dish-al),  a.     Likely  to 

1    i    !.•;  hurtful 
'ir[p  ;i  nVtion,  n.     Act  of  preparing, 
or  luttkiii^  ready  ;  preparatory  act. 
*rf  ji'en-ta'tion,  n.  Act  of  presenting  ; 
exhibition. 

rc-BQnip'tion,    n.     Opinion;    strong 
prol>ability  ;  excess  of  confidence. 
I-    siimpt'u-ous,  a.   Rash  ;  bold  ;  un- 
it :1\  confident. 

M    t.  n'sion,  M.     Claim,  true  or  false ; 
pretense. 

Pre-t^n'tioQs,  a.  Making  great  pre- 
tensions. 

Pro-hlb'it,  r.  t.     To  forbid. 

Pro-nun'ci-A'tion  (-shl-ft'-shun),  n- 
Act  or  mode  of  utterance. 

Pro-por'tion,  n.  Comparative  rela- 
tion;  equal  share. — v.  t.  To  adjust 
in  a  suitable  proportion,  as  one  part 
to  another. 

Pro-pri'e-ty,  ti.  Fitness  ;  joatness  ; 
decorum. 

Pro-vIn\ial,  n.  An  inhabitant  of  a 
province. — a.  Belonging  to  a  prov- 
ince; unnolished. 

Pro-vIn'«;iai-lHm,  n.  Peculiarity  of 
8()eech  in  a  province. 

Pn»x-Im'i-ty,  n.    Immediate  nearness. 

Piinct'u-A'uon,  m.  A  ct  or  art  of  dirid- 
ing  sentences  br  means  of  poiata. 

PQn'gcn-cy,  n.    Sharpneaa;  keenneM. 

QoAint,  a.  Artificially  elegant ;  odd 
and  antique. — Srw.  Strange  ;  whim- 
sical ;  fanoifol :  singular  ;  queer. 

QuAint'ness,  n.  State  of  being  quaint ; 
oddneas. 

Qual'i-fi-c4'tion,  n.  That  which  qaal- 
ifiea ;  l^al  requisite  ;  endowment ; 
aoeomphahment ;  reairioiion;  mod- 
tfioation. 

Qual'i-fy,  v.  t.  [Lak  qualifleurt,  it, 
fr'ttlU,  such.  Mid  foftrt,  to  maice.] 
To  tit ;  to  prepare ;  to  modify  ;  to 
limit;  toabata;  to 


Rft'di-fls,  n.  {pi.  R4'di-1.)  Half  of 
the  diameter  of  a  circle. 

R4il'ler-y  (rJl'ler-y),  n.  Banter;  good- 
hunioied  plea.santry  or  slight  satire. 

Re'ca-plt'u-iftte,  v  t.  To  repeat  in  a 
summary  way. — Syn.  To  reiterate  ; 
recite ;  rehearse. 

RSc'og-ni'tion  (-nish'un),  n.  Act  of 
recognizing  ;  acknowledgment  ; 
avowal. 

R?c'og-nI«e,  v.  t.  To  know  again ;  to 
ackuowledge. 

R^c'om-mena  a'tion,  n.  Act  of  prais- 
ing ;  that  which  commends  to  uvor ; 
commendation  ;  act  of  advising. 

Re'con-strQct.  v.  t.     To  rebuild. 

Re-dQn'danye,  ri.  Superfluous  quan- 
tity ;  excess. 

Re-flSc'tion,  n.  Act  of  reflecting  ;  at- 
tentive consideration ;  censure  ;  that 
wliich  iH  produced  by  refleotins. 

RP'flex,  a.  Directed  backward;  re- 
troactive. 

Re-fr&in',  v.  t.  or  t.  To  abstain ;  to 
forbear.— «.  Burden  of  a  song. 

Re-filte',  V.  t.     To  prove  false. 

Re-jPc'tion.  n.     Act  of  rejecting. 

Re-la'tion,  «.  Act  of  relating  ;  narra- 
tive of  facts  ;  any  connection  estab- 
lished. 

RSl'a-tlve,  a.  Having  relation ;  re- 
specting.— n.  One  connected  by 
blood  or  affinitv  ;  that  which  relates 
to  Bometning  else. 

Relax  &'tion,  n.  A  slackening;  re- 
lief from  laborious  or  painful  du- 
ties. 

Rfp'e-tl'tion  (-tlsh'un),  «.  Act  of  re- 
peating ;  iteration. 

Re-pr^ss',  v.  t.  To  put  down  ;  to  sub- 
due ;  to  crush. 

RS'pro-dac'tion,  n.  Act  or  process 
of  producing  anew ;  thing  repro- 
duced. 

Re- proof,  n.  Censure  expreaaed  ;  re- 
buke. 

R9p'a-ta-ble,  a.  Of  good  repute ;  re- 
spectable. 

RSp'a-U'tion,  n.  General  estimation ; 
good  name ;  credit ;  honor  derived 
Rom  public  esteem. 

Re-pute',  V.  f.  To  hold  in  estimation  ; 
to  think.— M.  Reputation  ;  estima- 
I     tion. 

I  R«q'ai-«Ite  (rCkVl-xit),  a.  Reooired  ; 
neoeaeary. — it.  That  which  is  ncc- 


;  to  moduy  ;  to  I     omist. 

rwMol  I  fUo^Iutian,  n.    Fixed  porpoae ;  the 


672 


GENERAL  0L068ABT. 


mat  of  aeparating  parta  of  a  oompl<ni 
idea. 

Re-it|Nai'Hi  bHI-ty,  n.  Liability  to 
anHwtT  ur  iiay. 

Re-8LKtu'iU-ljle,  a.  Liable  to  aoooont. 
— SVM.  Aocottutable  ;  answerable. 

Re-atrlct',  v.  L  To  limit ;  to  reatrain ; 
to  oontine. 

Re-t£n'tion,  ft.     Act  of  retaininf  . 

Het'i-oenoe,  n.  [Lat.  re  and  taeto^ 
to  be  ailent.]  Conoealment  by  si- 
Icnoe. 

Ile-tort',  n.  GenMire  retomed ;  reo- 
artee ;  a  cbemical  TeaaeL — ».  t.  To 
tliruw  back ;  to  return ;  to  make  a 
sharp  reply . 

Re-visc',  V.  t.  To  examine  with  care 
for  correcti<m;  to  renew. — n.  A 
second  proof -aheet 

Re- vision  (-vish'on),  n.  Aot  of  re- 
vising or  reviewing. 

Rh?t'o-ric  (rJt'-),  »,  The  art  of  speak- 
ing or  writing  with  el^anoe,  pro- 
priety, and  force. 


Sa-glQ'i-ty,   n.    Qoiok  diaoeminent; 

penetration. 

S&l'u-ta'tion^  n.  Aot  of  greeting  an- 
other.—Stn.  Greeting ;  salnte  ;  ad- 
dress. 

S&r^oasm,  n.    Bitter  reproach. 

Sar-c2s^o.  a.  Bitterly  satirical; 
scornfully  severe. 

Sit'ir-ist,  It.     One  who  writes  satire. 

Sci'en^e,  n.  [Lat  sei^ntui^  ft.  »rire^  to 
Know.]     Knowledge;    collection  of 

feneral  principles ;  philosophical 
nowledge. 

Scope,  n.  Sweep  or  range  of  the  eye 
or  mind  ;  that  at  which  one  aims ; 
free  coarse. — Syn.  Space;  room; 
intention ;  tendency  ;  drift. 

Scru'ti-nlre,  v.  t.  To  examine  or 
search  closely. 

Self'-con-vC'it',  tu  High  opinion  of 
one's  powers  or  endowments; 
vanity. 

Sen'si-bll'i-ty,  n.  Capability  of  sen- 
sation ;  acuteness  or  perception. 

Slg'iii-fi-ea'tion,  n.  Meaning  ex- 
pressed by  words  or  signs. 

Sim-plli;'i-ty.  n.  State  or  quality  of 
being  simple;  plainness;  artless- 
ness ;  singleness ;  weakness  of  in- 
tellect. 

Sin-<;er'i-ty,  n.  Freedom  from  dis- 
guise ;  houesty. 


8dl'e-^Iam,   m.    Lnpropriety   in   laa 
nage ;  any  absurdity. 
tv'ent,  a.     Able  to  pay  debts ;  dis- 


guage ;  any  absurdity. 
SdlT'ent,  a.     Able  to  pav 
solving. — N.      A    fluid   which  dis- 


aolvea  any  substance. 

So-nO'roas,  a.  Giving  aound  when 
struok;  loud;  resounding;  high- 
aoottding. 

SpCdal  (spSah'al),  a.  Peculiar;  ap- 
propriate ;  specific ;  particular. 

^)e-<,-Ific,  a.  Diatinguiahing  one 
from  another ;  comprehended  under 
a  kind ;  peculiar.— 1«.  An  infallible 
remedy. 

8p)K''i-nieo,  ».  A  sample ;  a  pattern ; 
a  model. 

SpOu'ta-ne'i-ty,  n.  Quality  of  acting 
freely  without  reatraint ;  voluntary 


8t8'ra-o-type,  n.  A  plate  of  tyoe- 
metal  reaembling  the  snrface  of  a 
page  of  type  — v.  t.  To  make  stereo- 
^fpa  plates  for. 

Btiun'n-ltts,  n.  Something  that  rouses 
oither  to  mental  action  or  to  vital 


Strftaa,    n.       Preaanre;    importance; 

force;  urgency. 
Sab-j$ct1ve.  a.     Relating  to  the  sul>- 
I      ject;  pertaining  to  one's  own  con- 
sciousness. 
Sub-or'di-^iate,  a.    Inferior  in  order 
{      or  rank;  subject. — n.  An  inferior. 
I  Sub-or'di-nate,  v.  t.     To  make  Rubor- 
I      dinate  or  inferior. 
Sdb'sti-tute,  n.     One  person  or  thing 
put  in  place  of  another. — <•.  t.     To 
put  in  the  place  of  another. -Syn. 
i      To  exchange  ;  interchange. 
8ug-gf St'  {or  Bud-jfst'),  V.  t.    To  hint ; 

t«>  intimate. 
8u'per-t,il'i-ou8,  a.     Haughty ;   dicta- 
I      torial;  overbearing. 
I  Su-per'flu-oQs,     a.       More     than     is 
wanted  ;  useless. 
Su'per-ira-pc'se,  v.  t.    To  impose  or  lay 
I      on  something  else. 
Su-per'ia-tive,      a.      Expressing    the 
highest  degree ;  most  excellent ;  su- 
preme. 
Su'per-scrlp'tion,  n.    A  writing  or  en- 
graving on    the    outside    or  above 
something  else. 
i  Sn'per-vTse'.  v.  t.     To  oversee,  for  di- 
I      rection  ;  to  superintend  :  to  inspect. 
SCip'plP-nieiit,  u.     An  addition. 
Sus-«;?{)  ti-ble.  a.     Ca|)able  of  receiv- 
'      ing  impressions. 


GENERAL  GLOSSARY. 


673 


Sylla-ble,  n.  A  letter  or  combina- 
tion of  letters  ottered  together,  or 
by  one  impulse  of  the  voice. 

Sym'pa-thft'ic,  a.  Having,  or  pro- 
duced by,  sympathy. 

Sym'pa-thy,  n.  [Gr.  aumpcUheia^ 
from  »t4n,  with,  and  pathos,  suflfer- 
ing.]  Fellow-feeling ;  commisera- 
tion ;  pity. 

Syn'o-nym,  n.  A  word  which  haH  the 
same  or  very  nearly  the  same  mean- 
ing as  another  word. 

Syn'the-sls,  n.  Composition,  or  the 
puttmg  of  two  or  more  things  to- 
gether. 

Tict,  n.    Nice  perception  or  skill. 

TSch'nic-al,  a.  Relating  to  any  art, 
science,  or  business. 

Terse'ness,  n.  Smoothness  and  com- 
pactness. 

Tt^p'ic,  n.  Subject  of  discourse;  a 
matter  treated  of. 

Trans-form',  v.  t.  To  change  the 
form  or  appearance  of;  to  meta- 
morj>hose. 

Trans-mit',  v.  t.  [Lat.  tranmiUtere^ 
fr.  tnimt,  across,  over,  and  mUtere, 
to  send.]  To  send  from  one  person 
or  |)lace  to  another. 

Triv'i-al,  a.  Trifling  ;  light ;  worth- 
less ;  inconsiderable. 

TaWgid,  a.  Distended ;  swelled ; 
tumid ;  bombastic. 

Typ'ic-al,  a.  Emblematical ;  figura- 
tive. 


Ul-tC'ri-or,  a.  Lying  beyond ;  farther ; 

^  more  remote. 

Un'im-pC*ach'a-ble,  a.  Not  to  be  im- 
peached ;  free  from  stain  or  fault ; 

_  blameless. 

U'ni-ver'sal,    a.     Elxtcnding   to   all; 

_  whole  ;  total. 

Us'age,  n.  Mode  of  using  ;  treatment ; 
onstom ;  long-continued  practice. 

V&l'id,  a,  [Lat.  validun^  from  vaUre^ 
to  be  strong.]    Firm  ;  good  in  law. 

Va-ri'e-ty,  h  Change j  difference; 
diversity  ;  that  which  is  various  ;  a 
varied  assortment ;  a  form  subordi- 
nate to  a  species. 

Ver-nftcTi-lar,  a.  Native;  belonging 
to  the  country  of  one's  birth. 

Vlg'i-lan<;o,  «.  Forbearance  of  sleep ; 
watchfulness. 

Vig'or-oQs,  a.  Pull  of,  or  exhibiting, 
active  force. —Syn.  Strong  ;  power- 
ful ;  forcible ;  agile. 

Vln'di-c&'tion,  n.  Justification ;  de- 
fense ;  support. 

Vo-cSb'u-la-ry,  n.  A  list  of  words  ar- 
ranged alphabetically  and  explained ; 
sum  of  words  used. 

Vo-lu'mi-noQs,  «.  Consisting  of  many 
volumes ;  copious. 

Vouch,  V.  t.  To  call  to  witness ;  to 
warrant;  to  support;  to  establiih. 
— V.  i.  To  bear  witnesa. 

W&'ry,  a.  Cautious  of  danger ;  pra> 
dent;  ciroumipeoti 


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VB  369C2 


IV:240573 

THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


